Our Collective Stories

In 2024, I was awarded the Still I Run Starting Line Scholarship, and it reignited my love for movement and mental health advocacy. My goal was simple and intentional: run a half marathon, my favorite distance.

“A lot of people are looking for medication that will help or fix things,” he said. “And medication absolutely has its place. But regular exercise can have benefits on mental health similar to what medication can do.”

Liz was diagnosed with autism and ADHD when she was 28 years old. Looking back, she now understands why running always felt so necessary to her. As someone who describes herself as having a little “neuro-spiciness,” she realized movement was helping regulate her nervous system long before she had the language for it.

Running became one of the few things that still felt familiar. Some days the runs involved deep conversations about grief, life, and what came next. Other days they just ran. But the act of continuing to show up for those runs mattered.

I was never the athletic kid. Growing up, I gravitated toward art and books, not scoreboards or starting lines. Still, my childhood summers were spent the way they should be—by the lake, riding bikes until dusk, soaking up the simple freedom of being young. Adulthood, however, shifted everything. Between work, raising children, and navigating a relationship that was slowly unraveling, self‑care slipped far down the priority list. The weight of responsibility and routine crept

You signed up for the race feeling excited. Maybe it was your first half marathon. Maybe you were chasing a new PR. Maybe you simply wanted a reason to keep moving through a tough season of life. You bought the running shoes, laid out your running clothes the night before your morning run, and told yourself this was going to be your moment. Then somewhere along the way, things changed.