Why we run: How to keep moving forward over Christmas

When I look back over my past several years, the one constant in my life — other than my kids and friends — has been running. The joy it delivers me, even in my lowest moments, is always there. Getting out the door and starting my day with fresh air and movement gives back tenfold what I put into it.

The truth is, the last four years have handed me more than my share of loss. First, it was my dad, then, a short year later, my mum. I went through a divorce, lost two pets early in the pandemic, and watched the world turn upside down alongside the rest of you. My kids were home from school, we all felt isolated and afraid, and none of us knew when things would return to normal. They still haven't entirely, and we all face uncertain futures. It's been a hard, trying time for us, and I'm sure you've had many struggles, too, since the calendar flipped to 2020.

To cope, I've used many tools, including therapy and leaning hard on my friends and family. But I'm not quite sure where I'd be if I hadn't had running in the picture, too. I'm not going to sell the "running is cheaper than therapy" trope, because I don't want to promote it as a cure-all. It's not. But it can be a very big, central part of dealing with tough times.

The intangible health benefits of running

Running works its magic in several ways. First, it delivers all kinds of feel-good neurotransmitters that lift your mood, often referred to as the "runner's high". The more often you do it, the more lasting the effect of these powerful reactions in your brain.

If you're running outside in nature, you're also getting some nature therapy, and there's plenty of research to back up its value. When you run alone, you have the time and space to unconsciously or consciously work through any problems and emotions. If you run with friends or a group, you gain companionship and camaraderie, and another chance to lean on or support friends if needed.

In my 20-plus years of running, I've shared many miles with my group of running friends. We've been through job changes, parenting challenges, divorces, dating, marriages, illness, death of loved ones, and relocation. All those shared miles alongside one another have led to bonds that will never be broken. We've shored each other up, doled out advice, and listened carefully and sympathetically when one of us needed support.

We've also been able to share in each other's joys, whether the birth of a child, a promotion at work, or a new love. It's a unique friendship I don't have with any other set of people in my world. Running has linked us together for life, through thick and thin.

Some of us are scattered around the country these days, but we still manage to stay close. During the toughest days of the pandemic, we often stayed connected by running with our phones, chatting through the miles, virtually alongside each other. Since the pandemic and in-person restrictions eased up a bit, we've met up on the road, on trails, at races or fun locations, as well as each other's homes to reconnect live and in person.

I've also shared runs with my kids over the years. They haven't adopted it as their main sport, but through years of "Girls on the Run" programmes, local 5Ks, and some runs around the neighbourhood, I've at least introduced it to them. My daughter, for the first time ever, ran cross-country this autumn. She may not admit to loving it, but I've seen the good it does her, the way it lifts her mood and grounds her, setting her up for a more even-keeled day ahead. I predict both kids will lay down miles as adults because, underneath it all, they've been able to feel the mood-boosting effects of the sport.

Embracing change to move forward

This past summer, I took on my biggest challenge in life yet: I picked up and moved across the country to Colorado. Now, moving to Colorado may not sound like a challenge, and I get that. It's a beautiful, spectacular state and without a doubt, one of the country's best spots for running. You get to live and run at elevation, get into the mountains on trails one more beautiful than the next, and be surrounded by other runners — all while the sun shines down on you far more days than it doesn't.

But this move also meant leaving my community, the home where I raised my kids, and everything warm and familiar. I thought I was ready for it and that I'd embrace it with open arms. But what I didn't see coming was that it was also a loss, and as it turns out, a loss one too many for me to handle. For the first time in my life, I fell into what I'm sure was clinical depression. I knew in addition to all of my go-to resources like therapy and my wonderful network of friends, the thing I needed to do was pull myself out of bed each morning, put on my running shoes, and get outside to log the miles.

I cried a lot during those runs; I cried after them, too. But I kept going back, day after day. Eventually, I began to pull out of my downward spiral and feel better. I've made some new running friends, had plenty of visitors — my crew of running friends included — and began to embrace the adventure I'm on. My new home isn't my home yet, but it's a good stopping point, even if we return to the East Coast next summer (reader, we probably will).

The point is, I'm not quite sure where I'd be after all these losses and struggles if it weren't for running. It's not the only thing that has helped me get through, but it's been the constant, and the element in my life I can always count on to give me joy. Even when a run feels hard, I still feel better than before I started.

Make time for running over Christmas