I grew up in a toxic household, with an emotionally, verbally, and physically abusive father. Living in a house that made “home” synonymous with violence did a number on my mental and physical health. As a result, I developed post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), depression, anxiety, and an eating disorder. In other words, trauma and my body’s sometimes futile attempts to cope with it have been front and center for my entire existence.
That’s why running — along with therapy and periods of doctor-approved medication use — has become a cornerstone of not only my ongoing healing but my steady processing of pain. It’s one of the primary means with which I’ve tried to change the narrative that my upbringing created. And I’m not alone in that.
According to a 12-week 2014 study conducted by researchers at the University of Texas at Austin, people who ran for 30 minutes immediately prior to their talk-therapy sessions reported a more dramatic decline in PTSD symptoms compared to those who didn’t. According to researchers, “The reduction in symptoms is thought to be due to a boost in levels of a brain protein called ‘brain-derived neurotrophic factor’ from running. This BDN protein is generally low in people with PTSD, but it helps the brain adapt to stressors and repair itself.”
I had no idea a boost in a particular brain protein was driving me to the nearest gym when I experienced a particularly powerful trigger, or why I always considered my high school gym to be my place of solace and safety. But now, knowing what I know and looking back at how pivotal a roll running played in my ability to endure and function under relentless abuse, I realize why I was always the one running the fastest and the longest and the hardest — until my lungs threatened to collapse and my stomach sent warning signs of impending nausea and vomiting.
I wasn’t simply running away from my trauma; I was learning to cope with it. And my brain needed that particular runner’s high to heal.