Wilmington College gave me a second chance at life

I never saw running as a sport. To me, running served as a means of chasing my brother around our yard and playing with our Great Danes on forgotten trails by the Little Miami River. Running never felt like a chore, or something anyone nagged me to do.

I began running competitively in middle school. Even so, running still existed differently in my mind than most. I stumbled across a video of American marathoner and Olympic silver medalist, Meb Keflezhigi, which explained that, while Meb maintained 180 strides per minute, he spent 75 percent of his race in the air. Seeing that Meb and other greats barely touched the ground, I concluded that, if running was a sport, it was special, because it was an air sport. Flying.

Before races, my dad and I would do whatever various handshake we had at the time, and he would tell me to "go for a fly." I say all this to explain that I believe this childlike naivete and wonder for athletics is what allowed me to persevere under multiple trials and ultimately land at Wilmington College.

I spent the first practice of my collegiate career at Mississippi State University on a bike, with a stress fracture in my foot. Coach Pat McGregor took full ownership of the injury, explaining he increased my volume too fast while also stressing the importance of coach-athlete communication. As an athlete, his ownership of this and willingness to continue working with me despite injury made me excited to run for him.

That said, I struggled first semester, ending up in a hospital with Rhabdomyolysis after a race in Princeton, and persistent pain in my left groin. I felt like I failed to deliver for Coach Pat, who ultimately stepped away from coaching following the season.

As a former man of the military, Pat ran a tight ship. But if you were ready for it, you would be ready for anything. To this day, I feel that Pat is someone I can reach out to if I need help or advice pertaining to life or running. In my final conversation with him, Pat told me that I would leave MSU (an SEC institution) with school records in the 5 and 10K. While I am no longer at MSU, the times I've run now would equate to this.

Following Pat's departure, men's middle distance coach, Chris Woods, took the role of interim coach for women's distance. From day one, I felt that Coach Woods saw greatness in me. We discussed long-term plans to pursue the marathon and 10k. Sundays, we met the men's team at the Noxubee Wildlife Refuge for long runs on the dirt.

These days, I felt giddy. Running remained a game to me. I appreciated that the men would take their time getting started on the run, allowing us women a brief head-start. I would not let them catch me.

The last time I spoke with Coach Woods in person, he told me I would one day run a "very fast 10k." I couldn't help but think about that mid-race a few weeks ago in Raleigh, as I felt I was finally running that "very fast 10k."

After being diagnosed with a femoral neck stress fracture (ending my track season) and a rough bout of COVID-19, I began to spiral. Coach Woods filled me with endless belief, and I (once again) felt as though I failed to deliver. This, coupled with a myriad of personal and family issues left me in the clutches of an eating disorder.

I've refrained from sharing this publicly for a multitude of reasons. As a potential role model for young girls in sport, I never want them to feel they must take the same path to success as me. Furthermore, eating disorders are largely tied to identity. As one who struggled to separate themselves from this false identity for so long, I never want society to start associating me with it.

Lastly, many people have the idea that runners develop eating disorders due to the old, misinterpreted claim that "lighter is faster." The treatment system frustrated and failed me in believing I ultimately did this to myself as a means to improve athletic performance. Athletics only ever aided my recovery, providing a sense of empowerment and encouraging me to develop a healthy relationship with my mind and body for ultimate peak performance.

Upon returning to MSU in the spring of my sophomore year, I fell under the guidance of Coach Erin Stenman-Fahey. I never got to run for Coach Fahey, though I will speak highly of how she built up the women's team. The three coaches I had in my two years at MSU each provided me with different, unique knowledge.

I entered the transfer portal at the end of July 2023, hoping to run somewhere in the fall. My brother ran at the University of Dayton, just 45 minutes from my childhood home. Moreover, I essentially grew up in the Dayton running community, going to smaller road races, and running cross-country meets in the area. Dayton felt like it would become my home. I visited and was ultimately told I could receive a retroactive scholarship, as I'd not competed in almost two years.

This transfer process was far from simple. I wrote an appeal to the NCAA making my case to be immediately eligible in the fall. This also required me gaining clearance through Cincinnati Children’s Hospital as well as a doctor from the University. Despite my personal records, convincing administrators at the school that I would be a worthy addition to their team remained impossible.

I hugged my mom in a YMCA parking lot later that day, sobbing, making out the words, "My dream is dead." I tried so hard to resurrect my running career, but felt I killed it in the process.

Understanding I would be unable to compete in the NCAA for UD, I pursued Club and unattached Triathlon under USAT (USA Triathlon), with the direct intent of earning a national title (I did). Club triathlon remains incredibly competitive, as the NCAA limits training hours for university athletes, and the field as a whole remains quite small. In fact, many schools with NCAA teams have club teams, both of which travel and race together. The club scene also allows for older students earning doctorates to compete, as well as athletes across all divisions.

In pursuing triathlon, I ran faster than ever, earning my USAT Elite License (referred to as the "pro card"), and qualifying for Nationals in San Diego. That said, after running a sub 17:30 5K off the bike at a race, I felt I was losing valuable time to pursue an NCAA career. With my interest in possibly returning to the NCAA, I was unable to collect any prize money from triathlon to remain eligible.

Wilmington College seemed like my best option to continue my running career. In going D3, I knew I would be immediately eligible. If, for some reason, I could not compete, I knew the roads were better for cycling, the river was nearby, and other sources of joy remained in close proximity. I knew a few people on the team already (many of whom competed against my brother) and even recorded an interview podcast with Noah Tobin and Simon Heys. I wanted to continue pursuing triathlon and felt that more holistic D3 approach would best allow for this. Lastly, I truly felt that no one would want a two-time transfer with no results in two years.

In high school, older peers told me that the right school would "feel like home." I visited Wilmington in October of 2023 and never looked back. I'd never been so excited to go to a school and put on a uniform. I wanted to commit on the spot as coach Ron Combs and I discussed the future and goals, but "slept on it" per my dad's advice. I called Ron two days later, declaring my intent to run for him and the Quakers.

I didn't realize how much my love for running had dwindled until I began meeting up with teammates for some runs over winter break. We talked about goals and hopes and dreams. We relived the glory days of high school. We laughed and joked and told stories, either running sprawled across suburban streets or singled up on country roads, battling the winter wind. For the first time in my life, I felt that other people saw it how I did — flying.

Running became a game again. I was either running from Simon (Heys) during 200s, again determined not to let a man catch me (he always did) or working to keep up with Noah (Tobin) and Tyler (Parks) while they hurdled. I had more fun on team trips than any other trips in my life, even getting to see things like the Arch in St. Louis and Olympic Rings at Wash U.

Toeing the line for the NCAA D3 5000m Championship, March 24, 2024, three thoughts ran through my mind: "For God, for Ron, for Wilmy!"

For the God who saved me — who kept telling me to get back up. For the Coach who gave me a second chance when no one else would. For the community that gave me endless support, my favorite restaurant and my fiancé (Noah Tobin); the community that continues to give and give and give.

That National Title and all the following were for you. When you have a reason to dig, you will dig even deeper than you need to. I hope this can serve as a reminder for others to find their reason.