Recently, I sat across the table from my uncles at my niece’s baby shower where my upcoming marathons became a hot topic.
They asked: So, what am I running from?
Nothing. Not from but through.
Growing up in a major city such as Chicago brings a world of opportunity with world-class museums, rich culture and expansive green spaces. But for many young people, including me, proximity to violence and city living cultivate a steady hypervigilance toward personal safety. It acts as a bellwether, quietly draining energy like background apps on a cellphone.
In an uncertain world, running is tangible. There’s structure, a formula and predictability in finding your stride. Running also is a mirror that teaches the importance of discipline, discernment and self-trust. It has helped me manage the generalized depression and anxiety that come with trauma. With a family history of substance misuse and severe mental illness, my nail-biting, task avoidance and insomnia were quiet cries.
Running became the through-line that helped anchor everything else.
Twenty-five years ago, I laced up my running shoes for my first 5K and never looked back. I think about that moment now as I see runners training for the Bank of America Chicago Marathon on Sunday. You see them in the streets and along the lakefront and darting down sidewalks as they wind down their long runs to prepare for the big day.
And it is a big day. The first Chicago Marathon in 1977 drew 4,200 runners who managed to cross the finish line. Today, the marathon attracts more than 56,000 runners and pumps some $756 million into the Chicago economy. Have we marathon runners lost our minds? Why this growing attraction?
In my mid-20s, as a fourth-grade teaching resident at the Chicago Academy in Portage Park, I was showing up fully for my students but completely checked out from my own well-being. The nonprofit I now oversee, Chicago Run, had partnered with my school on running activities for students. The kids didn’t have daily physical education classes. Chicago Run’s program allowed me to take them out to the track every day to run or walk laps, learn about proper running form, set goals and enjoy some fresh air. I saw running through new eyes.
There’s a certain release with running you don’t get from other exercise. Your arms have to cross the threshold of your body, working both sides of the brain. It requires focus. I knew from my own experiences playing sports at Lane Tech College Prep that I functioned better when in season. I stopped biting my nails. I completed tasks. I slept better. I noticed my students experienced this, too.
It may seem counterintuitive, but inserting marathon training during some of my most difficult life transitions — the sudden loss of my brother, a complicated relationship — grounded me. I grew up one of six. Running was something that strengthened my bond with my brother, allowing me to meet his struggle with steady companionship instead of anger.
Today, I am training for marathons in New York and London.
What I have come to understand is that running is a constant teaching tool. You learn things about yourself over pavement you cannot learn anywhere else. You put down the invisible load. You accept help and support. You learn that moving forward gets you to the finish line, every time.
During Mile 20 of my first marathon, I heard my dad’s voice right before he hopped in alongside me. “I’ve never been more proud!” he shouted. I was crying. My scalp was sunburned along the parts of my braided hair. I had not fueled properly. But there was my mom with flowers. There was my sister helping me stretch after I finished. Something clicked.
That’s what I tried to explain to my uncles at the baby shower. Running is not a cure-all. It doesn’t replace trauma or big problems such as systemic disinvestment or inadequate access to mental health services. It didn’t “fix” me.
But it is a way to move through.
When I’m running, I’m keeping my breath steady. I’m putting my legs and arms in rhythm. I’m unclenching my jaw. I’m enjoying the quiet. I’m not overthinking. I’m just me.
That’s why we do it.
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Keep moving forward, runners.
Kyra Marcano, a Chicagoan, is a seven-time marathoner and executive director of Chicago Run, a Chicago-based nonprofit that provides no-cost running programs supporting physical and mental wellness for young people across Chicago communities.
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