CROSS COUNTRY

Running re-shaped the way I thought about myself and my identity.

In Running Practices, Lindsey A. Freeman describes the release found in running as arising from “a desire to touch something beyond or within yourself that is difficult to access when still.” As they write, “to run is to move and be moved.” Running is not only a physical act of movement but also an expression of desire and vulnerability. It reflects a longing to connect with others—to be seen in moments of struggle and to share those experiences alongside them. Running embraces both the pleasure and the strangeness of having a body: being attuned to it, moving through it, and being perceived through it. Running touches something so deep inside, that there is no other way to access it. You witness one another at their lowest and highest moments, and through those shared experiences, I have found some of my closest and most enduring friendships.

In running, you cannot physically see the distance you have covered—you cannot hold it in your hands or trace its imprint on the ground. Yet that is what makes running feel so special and almost whimsical to me. The body becomes both the medium and the proof of the experience. It carries the miles, the time, and the pace within it. It remembers the effort long after the run is over. It even registers the presence of someone running beside you—close enough to shape your rhythm and experience, yet never needing to touch you. In this way, running creates a connection that is both intangible and deeply felt, leaving its marks not on the landscape, but on the body itself.

As I continue to run today, I find myself searching for the poetics that exist within and beyond its structure. To run is to glide; to run is to feel. It is to encounter pain and endure it, to meet the ground beneath you and the earth around you. It is, in its own way, to touch one another. Ironically, running was considered one of the few “non-contact” sports that I was allowed to play safely, yet I have never experienced it as contactless. On the contrary, running seems to make contact with everything. Touch extends far beyond physical contact, reaching into places that are emotional, communal, and deeply felt.