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Published September 16, 2026 01:54AM<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
It took me a long time to fall asleep in my car, and not just because of the cold. I was parked at a trailhead in Colorado\u2019s Indian Peaks, more than 10,000 feet above sea level, curled up under a puffy jacket and a quilt. It was midnight, and my mind had been racing for more than an hour. In four hours, my alarm would go off. I\u2019d stir instant coffee into cold water, struggle into my running vest, and hit the trail. In truth, I didn\u2019t want to wake up early, or even go running. I just didn\u2019t know what else to do.<\/p>\n
I learned to run in high school on neighborhood jogs with my dad. Ten years later, when he was put on life support after a heart attack, I ran laps around the hospital grounds. I ran laps when he stopped getting better. I ran laps when he died.<\/p>\n
I fell out of love with running when I moved\u00a0<\/strong>to Colorado. Surrounded by legions of cardio superstars, I felt pressure to keep up\u2014to run at a certain pace or go a certain distance for the workout to count. I started leaving my fitness watch at home just because I was ashamed to look at it. Then, I started doing it on purpose. No watch, no data. If there was no data, then no one\u2014not even me\u2014knew how fast or far I\u2019d gone.<\/p>\nIt was liberating. Soon, running stopped being a sport and became a practice. I\u2019d never been able to sit still enough to master meditation or yoga. But somehow, the runs were enough to dampen the mental noise. My thought tornado slowed. My head cleared. As long as my feet were moving, I could stop thinking in circles and start thinking in a straight line.<\/p>\n
Then, this summer, I got my heart broken to bits. The details don\u2019t matter. Only that I fell in love by accident, and then he moved away. I\u2019ve ended relationships and had them end, but this one hit me like a box truck. Then, within a few months, five other friends moved, chasing job prospects and school programs in Alaska, California, Germany, and Pennsylvania. I stopped running. I stopped sleeping.<\/p>\n
My friends all shook their heads as they left. \u201cHere we have the kind of community people spend their whole lives looking for,\u201d they said. \u201cWhat a shame to leave something so beautiful.\u201d<\/p>\n
At the end of the summer, I went to the taco joint where we used to laugh ourselves to tears. I ordered my usual, and I sat at a table alone. As I ate, I scrolled the New York Times <\/i>and then the Israel Times<\/i>, scanning for updates about the war. And then, I put my phone down.<\/p>\n
Nothing made sense. Not the war. Not the politics. Not the tanking economy. Not the fact that a half-dozen people had found the one thing in life that mattered and chose to leave anyway. It felt like someone had broken the world and screwed it back together upside down and backward. My heart felt that way, too.<\/p>\n
I told my therapist this, and she frowned. I couldn\u2019t tell if she felt sorry for me or if she was tired of the self-pity. Probably a mix of both.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s one thing you do that makes you feel like yourself?\u201d she asked. Spears of sunlight slatted through the blinds onto the carpet of her office. I thought for a moment.<\/p>\n
\u201cRunning.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen maybe you should do that more.\u201d<\/p>\n
So, that night, I stuffed some bars and gels into my little running pack and drove into the mountains. That morning, I stepped onto the trail with no plan in mind. Maybe I\u2019d just walk. OK, fine, maybe I\u2019d run a mile. Maybe just two. My only goal was to move until I could feel the burning blood in my legs and the thin, cold wind on my cheeks. This high up, it didn\u2019t take long.<\/p>\n
After a mile, I found my rhythm. After two, I was nodding to the music in my headphones. For the first time in weeks, I was in my body and not in my head. I was out of service\u2014unplugged from the news, the emails, the texts, the updates. The world was falling apart, but at least I had air in my lungs and solid ground under my feet. Maybe that was enough.<\/p>\n
Then, I rounded a corner, and I saw a glimmer on the horizon.<\/p>\n
Dawn had finally come.<\/p>\n\n
About the writer<\/strong>: Corey Buhay is a Colorado-based editor and writer. She\u2019s a climber and previously authored <\/em>Outside\u2018s Basecamp Confidential, a column about the behind-the-scenes work of outdoor jobs. where she\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\nWant more <\/b>Outside<\/i><\/b> health stories? <\/b>Sign up for the Bodywork newsletter<\/b>. And for tips on how to train, fuel, and recover better, <\/b>sign up for the Sweat Science 101 newsletter<\/b>.<\/b><\/p>\n
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