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Content warning: This story contains references to gun violence, which may be upsetting or triggering for some readers.
In August 2024, I underwent a profound transformation following a traumatic active shooter incident that occurred while I was dining with friends. This experience left me struggling with trust and hyper-awareness of my surroundings, forcing me to face my own mortality. I found myself unable to relax in public, constantly needing to position myself in a way that I could see the entrance. It wasn’t until I engaged in several sessions of EMDR therapy that I began to alleviate some of the shame, guilt, and fear that had enveloped me. However, it was a wellness festival called Runningman that truly empowered me to let go of my trauma.
Runningman is a three-day wellness festival and race hosted in Rome, Georgia, and as a fitness journalist and former marathon participant, I was eager to join this second annual event. I prepared to run a half marathon, fully committing to training, but then the shocking shooting incident occurred. In the aftermath, I found myself in a state of despair, spending days in bed and reluctantly contemplating withdrawing from the festival. Fortunately, my friends encouraged me to attend, reminding me of how necessary this experience would be for my healing.
Trauma has a way of replaying itself in our minds, often described as “playing on a loop.” This concept was illustrated in my case, as I struggled with the mental and physical repercussions of the incident. According to sports therapist Andrea Estrada, LPC, trauma influences our thoughts, emotions, and behaviors, manifesting symptoms like shaking, headaches, shortness of breath, and sleep disturbances. I found it particularly difficult to sleep or eat, isolating myself socially, while my body remained in a state of tension. Deep down, I knew I needed the community and support that Runningman could offer—a place where I could rediscover trust in both myself and others through shared experiences.
Despite my apprehensions about camping with strangers, the festival’s atmosphere quickly alleviated my anxiety. Running into familiar faces and connecting with new friends fostered a sense of comfort. What struck me was the palpable camaraderie among attendees—a transformation from initial nervousness to a warm, welcoming environment filled with smiles and conversations centered on a shared love for running. This sense of community played a crucial role in diminishing the grip of my trauma, and while my sleep remained disrupted, I was able to drift off easier than before.
The festival’s highlight for me was tackling 13.1 miles on a joyful, looping course dubbed “the world’s most unserious race.” With each lap, I symbolically dismantled the mental tracks replaying my past trauma. I also took a moment away from running to attend a mental health and running workshop led by endurance athlete and advocate Raymond Braun.
Braun shared his journey, shedding light on how he uses exercise as part of his recovery from OCD while emphasizing the fundamental relationship between mental and physical health. His insights resonated deeply with me, as I reflected on the healing prospects of movement, particularly in the wake of my life-altering experience. Braun articulated that there is nothing inherently wrong with feeling shaken, reinforcing that running remained my sanctuary amidst the chaos.
Completing my half marathon was a culmination of my emotional process. Braun and I later exchanged thoughts, and he spoke of how sport has provided solace during personal tragedies, including a friend’s battle with cancer. He recalled promising his friend that he would complete an Ironman triathlon in her honor—a commitment that helped him navigate his grief and maintain a connection to her.
Surprisingly, I experienced what felt like a moment of clarity during the race, particularly in the last two miles amidst Georgia’s sudden downpour. It felt like a cleansing, and I found myself overwhelmed with joy rather than sorrow—an emotion I hadn’t fully embraced since the shooting. After discussing this with Estrada, she noted that many finishers feel a surge of positive energy associated with achievements, which can include excitement, empowerment, and happiness.
As I approached the finish line, I made a conscious choice to treat my race as I now understood I must treat my trauma. I paced myself, pausing whenever needed—whether for a moment to breathe or to appreciate the experience. The casual character of the event was essential, allowing me to allocate the necessary time and compassion for myself. As I crossed the finish line, I felt a shift as former negative energy was replaced by the exhilaration of accomplishment.
Braun describes this process as “burning off” fears and apprehensions through movement. His perspective resonates with my journey; it turns out I inadvertently applied the same approach to both the race and my trauma. Even if it meant taking six hours to finish a half marathon, I still completed it, and the medal became a testament to my perseverance.
Similarly, as I gradually processed my trauma from the shooting, I regained a sense of safety and renewed faith in humanity. Though healing is a continuous endeavor, my experience at Runningman showed me that even modest efforts can reflect significant progress.
If you or someone you know is grappling with mental health issues, resources are available. You can contact SAMHSA’s National Helpline at 1-800-662-HELP (4357) or visit FindTreatment.gov for treatment options. If you are experiencing thoughts of self-harm or harming others, reach out to the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by calling or texting 988.
Source
www.wellandgood.com