Reflections on 2024 Season

@danvernonphoto

“You burned the ships.”

These words stared at me on my bathroom mirror since the start of my build into Trials 2024, three months postpartum. They served as a reminder of the decision we’d made at the outset: to give everything, within our values, to pursue the Paris Olympic team. As a family, we did – from hours of physio to altitude camps to my husband turning down job opportunities – all with the logistics of having an infant. We were vulnerable to the dream. So when I failed to even make the final, there was nowhere to hide.

The most prevailing feeling that followed the Trials, especially in the immediate wake, was shame. Despite executing the race plan my coach and I had discussed, I was fixated on the tactical decisions I could have made differently. I spent many nights restlessly replaying the race, and ruminating on all the physical, emotional, and financial resources we spent for it… only to end in an anticlimactic, painful way I didn’t see coming. Not to mention, a literal village of people supported me on this journey and I felt like I let them all down.

There was also confusion. Throughout the build, there were many indications that we were on the path God had chosen for us. In March, we received a training grant from an unlikely source in an unlikely way, which covered the expenses associated with childcare and travel for the season. Then in April, I strained my calf in the 5k race that secured my spot in the Trials. While it ended up disrupting training for the remainder of the buildup, I was able to stay positive because I had plenty of experience with ill-timed setbacks. In both 2016 and 2021, pre-Trials injuries had actually equipped me for the successful, supernatural experiences I had at Hayward. Then again, two weeks out from the prelim, I felt a “snap” in my Achilles during a workout. By the grace of God and an incredible medical team, it resolved just in time to toe the line. All of it felt so similar to previous years – like preparation for a special opportunity – and I cross-trained my tail off to ready myself for it.

It’s no wonder I felt utter disbelief when the top six women started to slip away from me in the final 800m of the 5k prelim, leaving me first out from automatic qualification to the final – no part of me mentally or emotionally rehearsed that. Failure is always a possibility, but I didn’t think it would happen that way.

@danvernonphoto

After a few days of letting myself feel it all, a few truths emerged:

 1)    “It’s easier to feel guilty than helpless.”

A mentor shared this with me after Trials in 2021, and the words came rushing back to the surface. I felt haunted by guilt – thoughts of how else I could’ve executed the race. The truth was that I carried out the race plan my coach and I thought would give me the best shot at the Olympic team – not the final – which was the primary goal. Even if the unlikely circumstances of the race required shifting the plan, I did everything my preparation and instincts called me to do in that moment… and still, there was no way of knowing whether different tactics would’ve yielded a different result. Another mentor sent me this verse: “Ye did run well. Who did hinder you that ye should not obey the truth?” (Galatians 5:7). Even if I had made mistakes, any time I run with (he)art – courageously, for the sake of Christ – I have run well in His book. Sometimes that leads to victory, other times to the helpless reality that your best wasn’t enough on the day.

 2)    Being vulnerable to a goal doesn’t earn me success.

I do believe emotional vulnerability is the fruit of a trusting heart, and God uses it to do his best work. But as I look back at the season, I can see how that subtly morphed into an unconscious belief that my choice to be vulnerable allowed me to control the outcome…. that the risk and challenge of it earned me God’s favor. But that is the exact opposite of how God’s economy works. In following Jesus, “what do we have that we did not receive?” (1 Cor 4:7). All is given, nothing earned. My job is to faithfully, wholeheartedly steward my opportunities trusting that whatever the result, it will ultimately be good.

 3)    Failure opens me up to receive real, unconditional love in a way nothing else can.

I have experienced a wide range of outcomes in my fourteen years as an elite athlete. I know what it’s like to be the best at a given level (my college career), the disappointment of narrowly missing the Olympic team (twice), losing seasons to injury, racing on international teams with injury, among others. But the sting of this one – I think because of the depth of sacrifice and the degree to which it felt preventable – was unlike any of the others. When I’m in an emotional state that tender, I’m highly sensitive to the way I’m received by people close to me; every interaction answers the question, “If I don’t perform, am I still loved?”

What followed were relational moments that brought healing to old, old wounds. Hearing from my family: “We would’ve made all those sacrifices ten times over, because the way you feel about Mercy is the way we feel about you.” Sitting with a small group of women in my local community who have been with me in prayer and encouragement, and hearing them say: “We want to see you win because it makes you happy, but more than that we love you, we’re here for you.” For my husband to sit in the car and cry with me after the race, telling me how proud he is, how the investment was never contingent on the result. Nothing can cause you to believe others’ love than when it’s offered in the vulnerability of defeat.

Had the Trials not unfolded in the same way, there would not have been opportunity for those exact words to be shared, and for my heart to receive them with such readiness. I’ll never knowingly set out on a mission guaranteed to fail, but when it does happen, there is a newfound assurance that it contains exceptional treasure. And finding it spurs a gratitude and a fullness that will fuel the next vulnerable thing.

All these insights unite under one truth: just because I “failed” at Trials doesn’t mean I wasn’t called to pursue it. Sometimes he sets us out on paths designed to end in disappointment – not as punishment, but for reasons we may never fully understand. What I do now understand is that despite the public failure there was personal victory, both in the unseen places of my heart and in the quiet of everyday relationships. Those things matter deeply to God – because therein lies the evidence and transforming power of His love. The more I feel it, the greater my courage and freedom to go out on a limb all over again.

Training while Expecting

At long last, we have family in town and I’m sitting down at a coffee shop with the time to write. I wanted to share some basics of my training during pregnancy – not because there’s a right or wrong way to do it – but just to provide an individual example of what adjustments worked (and didn’t) for me. And to highlight the importance of being intuitive and focused on the long game (not my speciality but getting better :).

As a disclaimer, I probably aired on the side of caution simply because of the miscarriages we navigated prior to this pregnancy. My medical providers emphasized that my body should be able to tolerate my normal level of activity (or up to 85 percent of my max heart rate), so during the first two pregnancies I essentially kept up my regular training regimen and continued doing workouts with the team. But after the second miscarriage, I started to associate that level of training with loss – whether it was related or not – and therefore felt the need to scale back once we got pregnant again. I consulted with some fellow moms in elite running and decided to focus on staying healthy and maintaining my aerobic base. I felt confident that would give me a foundation from which to maximize my postpartum return, while honoring the baby and my emotional needs.

The other variable that shaped some of my decisions (i.e. more cross training) was that I was prescribed progesterone injections in my one of my glutes twice a week. They caused quite a bit of soreness and swelling, and I found I recovered best if I cross trained the day after those injections. I also needed to adapt some of my strength training so as not to further aggravate that area. 

All that being said, below is an outline of how I generally structured my weeks during each trimester:

Trimester 1 (~13 weeks)

• 4 x 60 min runs – pace by feel…. Most days I naturally ran about 30 seconds slower/mile than normal. Sometimes didn’t even use my GPS watch so I could just run intuitively. 

• 1 x 75-85 min run

• 1-2 x elliptigo sessions (60-80 mins)

• 2 x strength sessions (lower weight, higher reps) 

• 1 day off 

• Did not feel comfortable doing any intensity during this tri, just with higher risk of miscarriage. But did strides in spikes once a week and/or 200s once a week to keep up some speed work.

Trimester 2 (13 - 27 weeks)

• 3-4 x 50-60 min runs – pace by feel. Really started to slow down by week 25-27ish.

• 1 x 75ish min run… eliminated around week 25ish when I started feeling significant body changes.

• 2 x elliptigo sessions (60-70 mins). Intervals 2 days/week most weeks. Tried to keep HR no higher than 170. 

• 2 x strength sessions (for the most part. We moved in October and I def missed some days during the height of that.)

• Yoga ~1x/week (specifically, this prenatal class and this side body class)

• 1 day off

• ~20 weeks started to wear “Fit Splint”, a pregnancy belly band to support pelvis

Trimester 3 (27-37 weeks… gave birth at 38.2!)

• 3-4 x 40-50 min runs…. 30 mins by the end.

• 2-3 x elliptigo sessions (60-65 mins). Intervals 2 days/week, adjusted toward the end based on fatigue.

• 2 x strength sessions (LIGHT, adjusted based on fatigue)

• Yoga ~1x/week

• Pilates 1x/week starting around week 30. SO HELPFUL for posture and keeping body open.

• ~35 weeks, started to feel discomfort in pelvic floor / sudden urge to pee while running and started out runs with walk/run. 

• Stopped running at 36.5 weeks…then just uphill walking, cross training, and rest! 

Other notes:

• Pelvic floor PT! I worked with practitioners at Run Raleigh PT and Beyond Pilates in Boone. I can’t recommend this highly enough. Runners carry more tension in that area compared to the average woman, so some simple work on relaxing and contracting the pelvic floor can go a long way for both birth and postpartum return.

• Do not recommend downhill running in the third trimester. For me at least, it put unnecessary stress on my pelvic floor. Toward the end I would just walk the downhills.

• Glute medius activation! In the second tri, I had some issues in my hamstring as my pelvis started to rotate forward with the weight of the baby. My PT helped resolve that by prescribing some strength training and pre-run exercises to strengthen the glute medius and realign my pelvis before running.

• Normatec! Especially in the third trimester, I thought this helped avoid swelling in my feet and lower legs.

• Cupping. You can buy a set of cups online for ~$25-30. They were amazing for loosening up my back — esp. QL by the end.

"To Love is to be Vulnerable"

“Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”  — C.S. Lewis

Jacob and I have always wanted to become parents. But we had no idea just how much vulnerability it would require of us. 

Family “planning,” as many others have experienced and noted, is complicated as an elite athlete. In track and field, most U.S. women take advantage of the down year between Olympic cycles, without an international championship. With that year being eliminated due to Covid, Jacob and I decided that though I would miss World Championships on U.S. soil, we still wanted to start trying in the fall of 2021. We felt the Lord calling us to it and grew excited and ready. 

In October of 2021, we learned we were pregnant with our first child. I won’t ever forget the measure of joy I felt — and even more, a feeling of right-ness, like I was made for it. I savored this new reality for all of seven days, at which point we lost the pregnancy. 

It was early but it didn’t matter. Our hearts had already melded to that baby… and already started dreaming of our future together. Jacob and I have both known grief before, but this was categorically different from anything we’d ever experienced. It was the first real trauma we’d endured within our marriage.

After taking time to heal, I was able to see an OB to get a blood work panel and be sure my body had no glaring issues that might make a full-term pregnancy difficult. She found my progesterone was abnormally low, which was not a shock as it runs in my family. I was relieved to learn this was an easy fix, resolved with a daily progesterone supplement during my luteal phase (ovulation to period).

Although I knew there was no way to confirm the miscarriage was due to my progesterone levels, in the back of my mind it created an illusion of control. So when we became pregnant again in November, I felt confident we were out of the woods. I downloaded one of the myriad pregnancy tracking apps and we followed as our baby grew from a poppy seed to a peppercorn to a raspberry…. the anticipation was palpable.

Because of our first loss, we were able to get in early for our initial ultrasound. Jacob and I gripped hands as the image showed that tiny, glorious heartbeat. Sweet relief and gratitude. The tech printed the pictures, and we brought them to Christmas to celebrate with our families.

At the end of January, we had our next ultrasound at about 11 weeks. Inevitably I was nervous – I expected it regardless of how far along we were – but there was an underlying assuredness and excitement to see more of our baby.

Once the ultrasound wand was in place, my heart started to race as the screen declared the little heart inside me was not. The doctor gently confirmed and paralysis set in, refusing to believe what was before my eyes. Jacob asked her if we could have a few minutes alone. He laid over me on the medical table and prayed as I wept gutturally beneath him. 

The next week was a complete haze of emotion and lament. In the midst of the storm it’s hard not to feel God has abandoned you – we did at times. And yet we were reminded by a mentor, His love is big enough to absorb the most heinous accusations against him (Job, Psalms 39, 44, 88). We knew all we could do was bring our anger and confusion and sadness to the throne of God, because, “To whom shall we go? “You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68). We felt His presence so powerfully through the rich community and counsel he put around us – family, close friends, and our church here in Boone. They held space for our grief and reminded us that Jesus, too, weeps with us (John 11:35) and God acknowledges every tear (Ps 56:8). We preached to our feelings what’s true: that our suffering isn’t a result of God’s failure (or ours, if we are following Him), but rather a consequence of life in a broken world. For those who love him there is a promise of redemption (Rom 8:28) – & in the meantime, His nearness (Ps 34:18). [There is much more to say about the spiritual journey of the past six months… for a later post]

We were also waiting for my body to process the miscarriage, which it did a week after our appointment. Natural miscarriage is essentially a mini-labor, sending many women to the emergency room due to blood loss. My ferritin levels dropped from 130 to 67, though my supplementation remained the same and I had been running slightly less during the pregnancy. Needless to say, my body also needed time to recover. I took the rest of February to run intuitively as I prioritized healing.

Toward the end of that time I felt a nudge to resume normal training and sign up for a few road races. I wanted to remain open and obedient in case God had planned for me to pursue World Champs this summer, not motherhood. This was not my desire, but I knew that if God was calling me to something, He’d provide everything I needed to obey. 

In my experience, despite the difficulty of obedience in some seasons (and the circumstances into which it leads you), there is an underlying peace and joy on the other side (2 Chron 29:27). It may be delayed, but it comes. I was finding the opposite to be true. I ran a road 5k in Atlanta at the end of March, then a road mile in Spartanburg in April. While I thought starting on the roads would jumpstart my motivation to pursue the track season, it really didn’t… and the process of preparing for races felt increasingly more draining.

The need for change became apparent around the end of April, at which point I needed to plan a few track races if I was to compete at USAs. I signed up for the Sound Running 5k on May 6th, but as it approached I started to feel dread – my body was still recalibrating (abnormal hormones and ferritin still low), and my emotions fragmented and fragile. It felt too painful to get on a starting line this summer, knowing I was supposed to be giving birth. 

Even after realizing all this, I was still hesitant not to race, afraid it was a cop-out or worse, disobedient. But after a conversation with my counselor, it became clear that for those who fear the Lord, sometimes there are multiple paths of obedience. In His kindness, God allows us to choose (Ps 25:12). We are secure in His love either way.

The Lord was inviting me to do just that, to make the decision on my own. Not for the sake of injury, pregnancy, advice from an authority figure like my coach (who gave me complete freedom to decide), but for the sake of my values – wholeness of mind, body, and spirit. To find that a worthy rationale and to accept the consequences, now or later. I finally did, and began to feel the peace and joy that was strikingly absent the previous three months.

Over the past year, God has been teaching us how to be vulnerable – in desiring parenthood, in our careers, in relationships, and ultimately entrusting our future to Him. As C.S. Lewis so aptly puts it, to truly love something or someone is to risk deep emotional pain. In the months following the miscarriage, I’d been convinced that my love for God meant vulnerability on the track – racing below my capacity and trusting him to strengthen me. That might’ve been an option. But I realized the more vulnerable choice, in this case, was to listen to the needs of my body and heart. To stop pressing, risk the professional and personal implications of that decision, and focus on other parts of my identity while I heal completely. Who knows what’s to come, but I believe it’ll be good. :)

Why share this story? I long debated and prayed over whether to do so publicly. It feels deeply personal, and even writing this over the past week has been difficult. But God has gently assured me of His ability to use it, that others may be comforted with the comfort we have received from Him (2 Cor 1:4). That is my heart and prayer – that whatever your heartbreak, whatever your broken place, God’s power to heal and redeem and make beauty from ashes would be known to you. That you would feel less alone. And that you’d be encouraged to continue “running” with he(art), letting the hardship grow you into who you’re made to be.

In the Unknown: You're Not "On Hold," You're HELD

Earlier this fall, I was running around a beautiful lake where I often train, right on the cusp of peak foliage. I had a lot on my mind, as my husband and I were navigating some decisions with many variables outside of our control. As I circled the stone dust path trying to sort out my thoughts, I noticed a yellow leaf seemingly suspended in midair, twirling in the wind… but not falling. 

After several laps watching it sway within the same radius, I realized there was an invisible spider web connecting it back to a tree. I stopped for a closer look. This golden leaf moved gracefully in the breeze, seemingly unbothered by its bounds. The movement carried delight, as if the spider web was but a mercy, tethering the leaf to its life source… preventing its death.

I laughed. God reveals Himself through nature, if we’re paying attention. 

When I’m in a season of ambiguity, it often feels like I’m disconnected. I’ve (re)learned to lead the feeling by preaching to myself what’s true & sure — the promises of God — over & over. I imagine them grounding me, returning me to my foundation.

In these moments, there is a battle. My impatience grows in the waiting, and being “grounded” can start to feel like getting home past curfew when I was 17 — like I’m punished, prohibited from something I desire. Like God has placed me “on hold” until I learn my lesson.

But — as Golden Leaf preached to me, dangling happily from the tree — God doesn’t scold, he holds. My mental image of “grounding” was reinforcing the false notion of a spiteful God, which did not align with His promises. The image right before me, rather, — leaf, spider web, and tree — accurately reflected the kind of person He is.

All His delays, all the uncertainty, all the disappointment, intend to draw His children close. We are not “on hold”, but rather, HELD by the One, the Son, who has reconciled us to the Father (Rom 5:10-11). Even more, He is ONE with the Father (John 17:21). And because “nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:38-39), no matter the circumstances, we are still seen, cared for, held in the arms of a Good Father. 

Stunned, thankful, I began to run again, processing the lesson contained in what I had just observed.

It is good and necessary to return to God’s word when I feel suspended in the unknown. In fact, the One who holds us, Jesus, is himself the Word of God (John 1:1,14). The question is: does my imagination of Him accurately reflect His character? When I perceive the Lord as He really is – not spiteful, but “faithful in all his words and kind in all his works” (Ps 145:13b) – I can trust him. When I can trust him, I become like the golden leaf, united to the Father, held by the Son, dancing to the wind of the Spirit – full of delight.

"Get Used to Different": What Helped Me Breakthrough in 2021

Photo credit: Natalia Rivas Foster

Early during the pandemic, my husband and I started getting into a new show called “The Chosen”. It is the first-ever multi-season show of Jesus’ ministry on earth, beautifully bringing to life the heart of Christ in familiar Bible stories. 

One theme the show captures is the “upside-down” nature of the kingdom Jesus came to introduce — one that totally subverted cultural expectations and understanding. The Jews assumed the Messiah to be a militaristic leader seeking right religious conduct, but Jesus’ manner and message was just the opposite. At one point, Jesus calls a tax collector — a group of people deeply despised by the Jews for trading their loyalty to the Roman Empire — to follow him. When Peter objects to welcoming such a traitor, implying that he’d crossed a moral line, Jesus replies: “Get used to different.” 

He came to do what God had promised for centuries — a “new thing” (Isaiah 43:19) — both in the world, and in our lives.

As I reflect over the past season, the same theme emerges. The path to success has looked vastly different compared to the other highpoints of my career. Early on, I had a rigid, “more is better” mentality toward all-things-training, and “less is better” toward everything else. It might work for some, but for me — though the short-term fitness benefits were real — in the long-term, I was left injured and wanting a more integrated lifestyle.

Over the last three years, God has been revealing my need to release control of the process. To surrender my assumptions of what it takes to be successful, and let Him lead. To believe, if I would only trust Him completely, He will do “far more abundantly than I could ask or imagine, according to his power working within us.” (Ephesians 3:20)

But what does “get used to different” look like, practically? That’s what I want to share with you. I’ve created a list in categories — physical, psychological/emotional, and spiritual — because as athletes we often forsake the second two, and they are just as impactful to performance. Please consider this as simply what’s working for me, not a prescription for all. What matters is the principle of integration (body, mind and spirit), not necessarily the specifics. 

My training group: Mountain South Elite!

PHYSICAL

1. Finding peace and confidence in a new training system. 

   This was my third year being coached by Chris Layne, whose system is focused on quality over quantity. We train in 4-week cycles — 3 weeks “normal volume”, one week at 60-70 percent volume. I cross-train most of my doubles, my long run never exceeds 15 miles, and with the exception of some longer ones in the fall, my workouts range between 4 and 6 miles of work depending on time of season (less during recovery weeks). The first year I struggled to buy in, constantly asking to do more. But I’m learning healthy, consistent weeks trump the start-stop I experienced with higher running volume. 

2. Listening to my body

   Whereas in previous years I’d be unwilling to adjust training due to a niggle or general fatigue, I’m finding it’s absolutely necessary. This means cutting a run slightly short when needed, cross training doubles (recovery not only for your legs, but also easier to keep your heart rate lower), and communicating with Coach when I’ve been feeling something for 3-5 days. 

3. No missed periods

   After a 5-year stint of amenorrhea from 2011 to 2016, I've had a normal period, but almost every year since, I’d miss one or two due to stress or altitude (higher energy burn at 7,000ft… sometimes did not compensate with enough calories). Since January 2020 I haven’t missed a single period, and trained at altitude for four separate month-long camps since then. Proper caloric intake has helped keep my body durable. 

4. Believing in the “extra stuff”

   I’ve been doing strength training and core my whole professional career, but it wasn’t until my injury cycle that I actually began to understand the value. In addition to the usual 2x/week strength training and 3x/week core, this year I also committed to a weekly rotation of thoracic mobility, foot mobility, k-bands, pelvic floor exercises, and one recovery modality daily (epsom salt, ice bath, Firefly, Normatec, or massage). I’ve also taken daily Xendurance supplements since Fall 2019 and seen more resilience (and a better response) to the training.

PSYCHOLOGICAL / EMOTIONAL

1. Guided imagery

   Starting before Trials, my husband Jacob (a clinical sport psychologist) would guide me through a visualization of every race. I’d close my eyes, and he’d have me imagine the moments before the race… all the senses. Then he’d set a timer for the 5k time I wanted to hit and I would run the race in my mind, lap by lap. We did it 2-3 times per race depending on how many race scenarios I wanted to anticipate. I didn’t really enjoy simulating all the jitters before race day, but there’s robust research supporting imagery (Morris, Spittle, & Watt, 2005) and I thought it helped in the end!

2. Mindfulness & deep breathing

   I always get nervous before races, but this year I wanted to be more intentional in managing it. Mindfulness, according to Jacob, is “awareness + attention” and, coupled with diaphragmatic breathing, can help athletes navigate unwanted thoughts (Bernier, et. al 2009). This was a tool I used often in moments of anxiety before races — any time I started thinking about the race in the days leading up, at the track before warming up — really any moment I felt nervous before race time.

3. Goal-setting

   This might seem basic, but I’d never actually written out and regularly revisited my goals for the season. The empirical evidence for goal-setting is robust (Gould, 2015), and one of the principal findings Jacob has shared with me is that goals are more likely achievable if they’re specific . I wrote out a detailed A-goal, B-goal, and three process goals for the season, and posted them over my desk. They were hung right near my Elliptigo, so I re-read them a few times per week while doubling. I also shared them with my coach and husband for accountability.

4. Relationships

   This has always been a value of mine, but I still tend to want to isolate during times of heavy training, dealing with an injury, or before big races. Though I’m technically an introvert, I’ve learned I’m happiest and most successful when I stay connected to people, even and especially when I feel vulnerable in some way. When I strained my hamstring right before Trials, time spent with our church small group or over dinner with a friend refilled my soul and readied me to pour out again. 

We love our small group!

SPIRITUAL

1. Sing praises

   Singing is a practice that always re-routes my heart when I’m feeling any negative emotion. I usually have to will myself to do it, but by the end of the song I’m crying good, cathartic tears. It shifts my eyes from my circumstances to God and His character. My go-to’s are anything Hillsong (“Awake” is all-time favorite album), Maverick City Music, hymns… whatever “tune[s] my heart to sing Thy grace.”

2. Fasting

   Fasting is a spiritual discipline used all throughout the Scriptures, and one that Jesus assumes His followers participate in regularly (Matt 6:16-18). Denying a physical need helps us grow a deeper spiritual need for God. It doesn’t need to be exclusively from food (as an athlete, not always the best idea :), as long as it’s something in which you regularly find comfort. Most of the fasts I’ve done (really, only a handful in my life) have been from media & audio content (I listen to music and podcasts daily). This season there were two instances in which I was distressed about something specifically related to my career, and felt compelled to commit to a one-day fast. The point is not to hear an audible word from God... just to be desperately focused in prayer and dependence on Him. It makes room for us to discern the Holy Spirit more clearly. Each time, I emerged strengthened and encouraged. 

3. Confessional community

   In addition to relationships generally, I’ve learned I need intentional communities in which I allow myself to be fully known and fully loved. This means confessing my shortcomings and struggles within safe, trusted relationships. One of the functions of the Church is to “bear one another’s burdens” (Gal 6:2), and to “confess [our] sins to one another and pray for one another, that [we] may be healed” (James 5:16). It is not natural for me to share my deepest heart-struggles — that which brings me shame. But as I’ve stepped into these waters, lies I’ve long-believed about myself have been “outed” and replaced with truth, reshaping my beliefs about God and how he sees me. This kind of spiritual restoration is incredibly powerful, and can’t but enhance every aspect of my life (for much more on this topic, see Soul of Shame, by Curt Thompson).

In summary, there is no replacement for hard work. But as I’ve started to embrace ideas and practices vastly different from those early in my career, I’ve found more wholeness, freedom, and success. It comes slowly, it’s never how or when I expect… but all the waiting and unknowing is worth it.

---

References

1. Bernier, M., Thienot, E., Codron, R., & Fournier, J. (2009). Mindfulness and acceptance approaches in sport performance. Journal of Clinical Sports Psychology. 4, 320-333.

2. Gould, D. (2015). Goal setting for peak performance. S. Jaegar (Ed.). Applied Sport Psychology: Personal Growth to Peak Performance (IV). New York, NY: McGraw-Hill.

3. Morris, T., Spittle, M., & Watt, A. P. (2005). Imagery in Sport. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.

How I Learned to Foster Community while Training Alone

Training with others is key to my success as an athlete. But when COVID initially forced me to train alone, I had to adapt. To stay motivated, I found alternative ways of cultivating community. Read about it here!

Olivia Norman Photography

Recovering Your Heart After Disappointment

At the beginning of the year, I began writing a blog post on my learnings about managing disappointment in 2020. A few weeks ago, my computer somehow deleted everything I’d written. I struggled to regain momentum but, after having some discouraging races the past couple of weekends, the subject has unfortunately been fresh on my mind. It is quite true that God seldom allows us to comfort others with lessons He hasn’t already taught us (over and over again :). 

Two weekends ago, I ran a 2k as part of a fast 3k race in Phoenix. As soon as the gun went off, the pace felt jolting and my legs were abnormally fatigued. It was still a solid race effort, but definitely not how I expected to feel based on workouts. After reflection, I brushed it off as a result of the unusually intense previous week of training, then refocused on the full 3k race I’d run the following weekend. 

As the 3k approached, my mindset was positive, body prepared, and spirit excited to showcase all the work I logged in Flagstaff. When I arrived at the track it was windy, but I didn’t think much of it given the temperature was almost perfect for a distance race. But once again, as soon as the race started, I felt pretty uncomfortable (usually the first 3-4 laps of a 3k should feel somewhat controlled). Despite my efforts to “just stay with the pacer”, I ended up running 20 seconds slower than my goal time. Typically, a bad 3k in February is not something to cry about. But this one really upset me — it’s been a long time since I’ve raced to my potential and I truly thought this would be a good one. 

Photo credit: Andrew Neugebauer, Xendurance

I find that after a disappointment, my greatest needs are emotional and relational — I need to feel that I’m loved even when I don’t perform. But human beings, myself-included, are often unsure how to respond to another person’s sadness. We either immediately try to fix it or say nothing at all. Since neither of those are helpful (for me, at least), when I’m feeling negative emotions internally — especially after the vulnerability of a race — I often do my best to maintain positive emotions externally, so as not risk feeling separated from others. 

But there’s a long-term cost to stuffing feelings like disappointment. My husband works as a Clinical Sport Psychologist and sees this day-after-day — unprocessed emotions don’t simply disappear, they just manifest themselves in some other form, at some other time, usually beneath our awareness. 

I learned this lesson the hard way a couple years back, when an injury prematurely ended my season. I knew I felt frustrated and disappointed about the setback itself, but what I didn’t realize was my emotional pain was actually much deeper. This struck me while catching up with a mentor, Olympic chaplain John “Ashley” Null, a few days after my coach and I decided to call the season. I shared with him my state of affairs — how deeply I believe my best running is still ahead, yet how hard and long a road it’s been. He listened intently as I poured out my heart, and after I finished he paused meaningfully and asked, “Do you think making another Olympic team will satisfy your emotional needs?”

As if I hadn’t already wept enough, the tears flowed and I sat there speechless. He touched on something I never recognized — subconsciously, on the heart-level, I believed that making the Olympic team (“success”) would resolve my distress. Intellectually, I understood that only the unconditional love of God can offer lasting fulfillment, but emotionally I wasn’t there yet. 

As we continued talking, I realized, since Rio, I had been telling myself an incomplete story. I was living in the narrative that I was (and still am) genuinely thankful for the unexpected experience God gave me at the Olympics, therefore I was content with what happened there. But deep down, I also felt disappointment. Disappointment at the reality that I wasn’t able to release all my hard work on the Olympic stage, and that returning to full physical form has taken much, much longer than I ever imagined. Unbeknownst to me, I had stuffed the feeling of grief resulting from my unmet expectations. My heart was still wounded.

Ashley explained to me that athletes manage emotional pain in three basic ways: 1) controlling their mental game; 2) controlling their performance; 3) controlling their body. In this case, I was responding to the pain of disappointment by trying to control my performance, fearing I couldn’t be content without another Olympic opportunity. It wasn’t working, because it wasn’t meant to work. “The only thing that fights fear,” Ashley said, “is emotional dependence on God.” Only within the presence of reckless, never-leaving love can we find healing for our pain.

But what does this look like, practically? We can give and receive this never-leaving love with real people.  Throughout that conversation with Ashley, he modeled to me the exact point he was making: he gifted me his undivided presence and attention, creating a space for me to feel. His nonjudgmental, patient, curious love, in that moment, represented the unconditional love of God toward me. Sometimes it’s with my husband, sometimes my parents, sometimes my closest girlfriends — whomever we’re with, the healing power of relationship is that we can be known at our most vulnerable, and still loved. (see Curt Thompson’s book, The Soul of Shame)

But because no human being can perfectly love, there’s nothing like coming before God himself with our disappointment. As modeled in the book of Psalms, this process is called lament — presenting before God our complaint, inviting Him into the pain, then ultimately remembering our hope in Him (or, communicating our desire to hope in Him where we don’t yet). Put simply by writer Andy Crouch, “it’s a way of holding together grief and hope.” 

Within many-a-setback, I’ve been too stubborn to fully admit my hurt to God. But after the 3k, I spent much of the plane ride home journaling and praying in lament, releasing every raw feeling to God, reading Scripture and reminding myself who God is and what’s true. I was a puddle by the end — my seatmates might’ve cared, but I didn’t. I was still sad about my race result, but renewed in hope and joy. 

Face to face with unconditional love, we realize a truth. That thing we so desired and didn’t get? It’s not any less important — it just pales in comparison to the joy of being loved. That’s what allows us to get back on the horse and try all over again.

Write the vision, make it plain — not perfect

Welcome, all!

I am so thankful to finally get this website to you. The idea was planted in me literally two years ago, but I never had a shortage of excuses to put it off. From “Squarespace is too complicated” to “I can’t do it during racing season”, “Who reads blogs anymore?”, “It feels self-promotional”… there was always resistance. Most of the reasons boiled down to my fear that it wouldn’t be “good enough” (doesn’t everything? Just me? :). 

Once I buckled down to start writing the mission statement, the process didn’t get much easier. I wrote a million drafts, laboring to make it clear, but my focus on flawlessness and how it would be received — as in any endeavor — paralyzed me.

My struggle with writing started in college. I’ve always loved literature and journaling, so naturally it made sense to pursue an English minor. But any of my college teammates can tell you, nearly every paper was a battle against my perfectionism. By the middle of my junior year, I had enough of the sleepless nights and unnecessary stress. I realized instead of writing for the joy of it, I was trying to prove my worth to my Ivy League peers, professors, and myself. I dropped the minor and felt incredibly relieved.

Privately, however, I still wrote. Journaling was — and remains — a haven for me. It’s a place to sort out my mind and heart, free from perceived judgment. The challenge has been learning to claim the same freedom and confidence when I write or speak publicly, knowing only my authentic voice can connect me to my audience. To this day, almost every time I prepare to give a talk, I go through this cycle: 1) start a draft, 2) preemptively read then attack it with my inner critic, 3) obsessively edit, 4) completely lose track of my original point, 5) scrap everything, start over, then end up with a product much like first draft (ha). The creation of the Running with (He)art content was no different.

In the thick of my frustration, the pastor at our church preached a sermon that exposed my issue all over again. The message focused on the verse: “Write the vision, make it plain, that those who read it may run” (Habakkuk 2:2). My mind immediately flashed back to college, where my ever-so-patient English-majoring college teammates would encourage me as I struggled over a paper, “Just. Say. What. You. MEAN.” I thought, “What is my goal with this website?” Exactly as the verse says — that those who read it may run freely, and leave more encouraged. That’s my mission statement. After that moment, the words flowed at last.

The older I get, the more I realize life is mostly re-learning the same things. So, I anticipate continuing to navigate my perfectionism over the course of this blog – honestly, this was one of my incentives for starting it. Even for this very post, I felt pressure to wrap it up nicely at the end, to offer a “takeaway” for the reader. I shared this with my husband over dinner and he reminded me that not every piece of writing needs to be profound, it just needs to be personal. There’s my takeaway :)