How Sue Pujdak Found Connection, Purpose, and a Path to Berlin

Sue Pujdak has been a runner since her early twenties, but the role running plays in her life today is very different from when she first laced up.

A former competitive swimmer, Sue initially turned to running because she was ready for a change of scenery.

“I got really tired of looking at the bottom of the pool,” she said.

Running gave her the chance to get outside and spend time in nature. As the miles added up, she discovered something else she hadn’t necessarily been looking for: community. Runs became opportunities to meet people, make friends, and have the kinds of conversations that sometimes come more easily when you’re moving side by side.

Years later, those connections would become an important part of how Sue navigated one of the hardest experiences of her life.

When Running Became Something More

After having children, Sue used running as a way to get back into fitness. It was something she enjoyed and something that made her feel good. Then, in August 2020, Sue’s sister died by suicide.

The loss changed Sue’s life completely. It also changed her relationship with running.

At first, she didn’t fully recognize how therapeutic running had become. The loss happened during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, when so much of everyday life had been disrupted and opportunities for connection were limited. Getting outside gave Sue somewhere to go and a way to move through days that could otherwise feel incredibly heavy.

“There’s a blessing to that, to be able to use your legs and kind of get away a little bit,” she said.

Sometimes, those miles were hers alone. Other times, she ran with a group of friends she had already formed in Colorado. Looking back, Sue feels incredibly fortunate that those people were already in her life when she needed them most.

“It was like God had put these people in my path,” she said.

Her running friends became a safe place to process her grief. Some understood the experience of losing someone close to them, and there was something about the act of running together that made difficult conversations feel a little easier.

“When you’re running, you’re not face to face with someone. You’re next to them,” Sue explained. “It takes down the walls, and you’re able to be more vulnerable with people.”

That vulnerability changed things for Sue. As she became more comfortable talking about her sister and sharing what had happened, she noticed that other people began opening up, too. Experiences with grief, mental health, and suicide that can feel deeply isolating suddenly weren’t quite as hidden.

Sue began to see just how many people were carrying stories of their own.

Creating Space to Talk About Brain Health

That experience has shaped the way Sue thinks about mental health today. She often uses the term “brain health,” a shift in language that she believes can help people see caring for their minds as a normal part of caring for themselves.

“We all need to take care of our brain health,” she said.

For Sue, running is one piece of that care. It gave her an outlet during grief, but just as importantly, it gave her connection. She wasn’t expected to leave her grief behind when she showed up for a run. She could bring it with her and have people beside her as she carried it.

That connection between movement and community is also central to Still I Run’s work. Running is never presented as a cure or a measure of achievement. It can be one supportive tool for mental well-being, with community and shared movement creating spaces where people don’t have to navigate their experiences alone.

For Sue, those ideas aren’t abstract. They’re part of her own story.

Running Chicago in Her Sister’s Honor

In October 2024, Sue’s running story took another turn when her sister’s best friend asked her to run a marathon together in her sister’s honor.

They chose the Chicago Marathon and ran with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. It was Sue’s first Abbott World Marathon Major, but the experience became about much more than earning a medal or checking a major marathon off her list.

“There’s something about running for a cause,” Sue said.

Running Chicago gave her a way to honor her sister while supporting work that mattered deeply to her. It also showed her how a marathon can become a platform for sharing a story that extends far beyond one runner or one race.

After Chicago, Sue knew she wanted to keep going. She set a goal of completing all of the World Marathon Majors, and she wanted to run them with charities supporting causes she genuinely believed in.

That search eventually led her to Still I Run.

Next Stop: Berlin with Team Still I Run

Sue applied to join Team Still I Run for the Berlin Marathon, which will be her second World Marathon Major.

“I’m so behind Still I Run,” she said. “I love everything that you guys are doing.”

For Team Still I Run athletes, training and race day are connected to a larger purpose. Runners use their endurance events and personal stories to raise funds and advocate for mental well-being, helping introduce more people to Still I Run and the idea that movement can be a meaningful tool for mental health.

That mission fits naturally with what Sue has experienced over the past several years. Running has helped her care for herself, connect with other people, talk more openly about suicide loss, and honor someone she loves.

Now Berlin gives her another opportunity to share that message on an international stage.

For Sue, there’s something powerful about knowing that people from around the world can arrive at the same starting line carrying completely different stories, yet still understand what it means to run for something bigger than themselves.

Turning Grief Into Support for Someone Else

Sue’s involvement in suicide prevention didn’t end at the Chicago finish line. After running with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, she became more involved with its Colorado chapter and trained to serve as a healing coordinator.

In that role, Sue can be connected with someone who has experienced a similar loss, often someone grieving the death of a sibling. She may meet with that person once or twice, listen to what they’re going through, and help connect them with additional support when they need it.

Sometimes that means helping someone find a therapist. Other times it may mean recommending a support group or pointing them toward resources they didn’t know existed. Sue isn’t trying to take away someone else’s grief. She can simply meet them in it as a person who understands something about the road they’re on.

It’s an extension of what Sue first discovered with her own running group: sometimes the most meaningful thing we can offer another person is the chance to feel less alone.

Sue still mourns her sister. Becoming a healing coordinator hasn’t changed that, and neither has running. What these experiences have given her is a way to carry her sister’s memory forward while helping someone else take a positive step in their own life.

Moving Forward, One Major at a Time

Berlin is the next stop, but Sue already knows she wants it to be part of a much longer journey. Her goal is to complete every World Marathon Major, continuing to pair the races she loves with causes she believes in.

There’s a fitting connection between that goal and the path that brought her here. Sue started running decades ago because she wanted to get outside. Along the way, she found friendships, conversations, healing, advocacy, and a community that gave her space to grieve.

Now, every starting line gives her another opportunity to create some of that connection for someone else.

Sue’s story is also a reminder of why Team Still I Run exists. The miles matter, but so do the stories carried through them. When runners choose to share those stories, raise funds, and talk openly about mental health, a marathon can become an opportunity to help someone halfway around the world—or right beside them—feel a little less alone.

And for Sue, Berlin is only the beginning.