The Chronicles of Alex

I thought it was only fitting that my first blog post be attributed to running – the first true love of my life. An exhilarating and immature love that has developed over time. If you don’t know me, a brief history… I picked up running my junior year of high school, ran for (sort of) two years in college, then got into ultra running before having 3 reconstructive knee surgeries all before the ripe age of 22. There is nothing about our story that I would change.

So, here is my love story with running…

I fell HARD, and I fell FAST for running. I became okay at it very quickly. I had potential. I loved how running made me feel. This led to an infatuation with running. I read every book and training log by the greats. I tracked everything I did ensuring proper recovery at every turn and over every hill. I ate only the “best” and “cleanest” food. I physically ran myself into the ground and punished myself with grueling hill workouts after disappointing races. All just to know running better. Doing it the only way I saw others doing it. 

I knew I saw a future for running and me on some level. I had never been in a serious relationship with anyone before but knew I wanted to give it a shot with running. We had been going out for a while, and I was ready to commit. Running and I were OFFICIALLY dating. I was surrounded by people who didn’t have the greatest relationships with running or food or themselves, and I fed off that. I became REALLY good at that, actually. And it almost killed me. Quite literally. Twice. I developed a severe eating disorder (ED), was constantly injured, and hated myself. But this was the only way I knew how to be in a relationship (with running that is). It was the only example I had ever seen.

The highs were high, and the lows were … really low. I thought that was normal though. I mean I loved running, and everyone around me did, too! This was what was required to be better and, eventually, the best. It had to be, right?? 

God, was I so wrong.

I didn’t realize how wrong I was to love running like this until I relapsed hard my sophomore year of college. I was having some continued heart issues stemming from electrolyte imbalances and couldn’t keep my muscles happy. I could barely walk, let alone run. But I had to run conference (and I did). That was my last straw. I knew something had to change; this was no longer something we could all ignore and pretend was okay. This was the definition of a toxic relationship. I was on the brink of getting sent to in-patient treatment and having to take time off school. I couldn’t fathom that. That couldn’t be an option. I refused to let it be an option. We needed to break up or take a break, at the very least. I didn’t know what to do. 

I knew I was sick. My parents knew I was sick. My doctors, friends, and teammates knew I was sick. But I had to make the decision to actually put the time and effort into recovery. Actual recovery. Not just showing up to my doctors’ appointments or sitting through hours of counseling or watching mom take notes at the nutritionist. Not running extra miles to deal with anxiety and stress. Not letting my ED rule my life or (real) relationships. And THAT is when my relationship with running changed. 

By this point, I hated running. All the joy had been sucked out of it. I hated the act of running and everyone who loved it. I hated how it made me feel. I hated what it showed me about myself. I wanted everyone to feel my pain and misery. I lost something that brought me so much joy, so many highs. Now, I just despised it. So, I broke up with running. We went no contact.

I never thought I would love it or find joy in it again. I was lost and bitter.

I took 7 months off running. I focused on lifting. I took occasional walks, never bringing myself to try and even jog. I sat with a lot of discomfort. A lot of feelings and life I had ignored for a long time. Running was with me through everything. It was always a constant during a very turbulent few years. It may not have been the healthiest constant but constant, nonetheless.

After a lot of reflection and some growth, I started texting running again. This became phone calls and coffee dates catching up over lost time. These grew to late night conversations. We needed to make sure we never got to where we were ever again. 

I knew I loved running though. I wanted to fall in love with it again. I knew I wanted it in my life. So, I tried again. Of course, going all in… ULTRA RUNNING. I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t make a strict training plan; although, I knew what I needed to do in order to be race day ready. I just wanted to have fun again. I wanted to love the process. I wanted to find joy again. I wanted to give something a shot that I knew was worth it. I fell hard and fast for a reason. 

So, I ran trails every day for months. Trails have always been my happy place. They are grueling in a “come get me” kind of way. They dare you to join them each run. They don’t ask you to be fast. They ask you to go by feel and give what you have. They make you learn yourself. 

I learned a lot about myself the summer of 2022. I spent many hours on the trails in southern Ohio alone learning how to love running again. Learning how to love myself again. And I’m thankful for it, since I said, “YES” at the end of it. 

My relationship with running culminated at my 50-mile race in Kansas the fall of 2022, but that experience is a story for a different blog post. My first ultra was the perfect ceremony to tie the knot with running – the open range in the Flint Hills of Kansas is beautiful after all. 

For about 18 months now, I have been trying to navigate my relationship with running… We came out of the honeymoon phase within the year after completing my first ultra. I cannot physically participate in the sport I love anymore. My dreams and goals were shattered with one after hours phone call from an orthopedic surgeon. I cannot replace running, and, quite frankly, I don’t want to. Our story isn’t over, it has just changed direction. I still want to grow old with running. I still want to share my life and experiences with the sport and community that nearly killed me and brought me back to life. I am just learning how to do this differently now.

I’m glad I have a relationship with running. I’m glad we both grew (and stayed compatible) over time – growing and adapting to each other is what marriage is, right? Running has taught me a lot, and I’m beginning to realize I can apply that knowledge to so many things in my life. It taught me things I’ll have to tell you about sometime. 

AMS 1, 04/11/2025