Movement as Medicine: Jeremy Fofrich’s Journey to Bayshore with Team Still I Run

When Jeremy Fofrich started running in 2016, he wasn’t chasing medals or finish lines. He was looking for relief. Something to quiet his mind. Something that could help him get through the day.

That year happens to matter for another reason, too. It’s the same year Still I Run was founded. Two separate beginnings, unfolding at the same time, rooted in the same belief: that moving your body can help you feel better, even when things feel heavy.

Today, Jeremy is 40 years old, born and raised in Toledo, Ohio, and preparing to run the Bayshore Marathon with Team Still I Run. He’s completed marathons, ultramarathons, and thousands of miles since those early days. But his story doesn’t start with racing. It starts with survival.

Finding Running When He Needed It Most

In 2016, Jeremy was attending support groups related to substance use, mostly as a way to meet people and build healthier connections. Around that time, he learned about a local Toledo program that promoted running as an alternative lifestyle. A lot of the people involved were sober. Many of them ran. Their lives looked different from what he was used to, and it caught his attention.

Jeremy didn’t struggle heavily with drugs, but he did live with an eating disorder for more than a decade, beginning when he was just 18 years old and continuing into his 30s. Alongside that came depression, binge eating, and a constant internal battle that never seemed to fully quiet down.

That spring, he decided to try running.

At first, it was one mile. That was all he could manage. But something happened during those runs. For a short time, the urges and the noise eased. The relief felt real, noticeable, almost shocking.

“It would be like all the feelings would subside,” Jeremy shared. “It was this giant leap of wellness.”

The struggles didn’t magically disappear. The urges still came. But now, he had a tool. Running gave him something to reach for when things felt overwhelming.

Running in the Shadows, Then Stepping Into the Light

In the beginning, Jeremy ran at night or at times when no one would see him. Those early miles were private, almost hidden. As the weeks passed, one mile turned into three. Three miles turned into consistency. Eventually, running became a daily practice.

Over the last ten years, Jeremy has logged around 14,000 miles. He’s completed two marathons, 15 half marathons, and two 50Ks. From the outside, that kind of resume looks impressive. From the inside, it represents something quieter and deeper.

Running helped him stay grounded. It gave structure to his days. It offered a sense of progress during times when everything else felt stuck.

“For any kind of severe mental health struggles,” Jeremy said, “we all have a story of some sort of complex trauma in our past. My story is no different.”

Running didn’t erase that story. It helped him carry it.

More Than Miles: Growth, Wisdom, and Connection

Over time, running became more than just a coping tool. It became a source of growth.

“As I’ve grown as a runner, I feel like it’s the evolution that you go through in life,” Jeremy explained. “You just keep getting better and growing. Learning more, getting wiser.”

The relationships mattered, too. The running community gave him friendships and connections he wouldn’t have found otherwise. People who showed up early. People who understood effort without explanation. People who listened.

“I wouldn’t have those connections if it wasn’t for running,” he said.

At some point along the way, Jeremy had a phrase tattooed on his leg alongside an image of a runner: Movement is Medicine.

For him, it’s not just a slogan. It’s a lived truth.

“Movement is medicine,” he said. “No matter what you do, if you move your body, you’re going to feel better. It doesn’t even have to be running. You can walk, do yoga, just move your body.”

Finding Still I Run and Saying Yes to Ambassadorship

Jeremy found Still I Run a few years ago through social media. He followed runners in the Detroit area who were ambassadors and saw pieces of himself reflected in their stories. Then someone he knew locally, a yoga teacher who works with Still I Run, encouraged him to apply as an ambassador.

He’s also an ambassador for a local running store in Toledo, but this felt different.

“This means so much more to me,” Jeremy said. “I’m running for my mental health and well-being. It hits home. It’s personal.”

Still I Run aligned with what running had already given him: permission to show up as he is, without pretending everything is perfect. A space where the reason you run matters just as much as the miles.

Running Bayshore With Team Still I Run

Jeremy has heard great things about Bayshore. The views. The energy. The course itself. But what he’s most excited about isn’t the scenery.

He’s looking forward to the experience of running a marathon somewhere new, outside his home city, surrounded by people who understand why this matters.

“Running with Team Still I Run,” he said, “that’s something I’ll never forget.”

For Jeremy, running has been a lifeline.

“I don’t know what I’d do without running now,” he shared. “I don’t know where I’d be. I’d probably be very sad and very depressed because it makes up so much of my world, and it means so much to me.”

He describes running as a rescue jacket. Something that keeps him afloat when the waves pick up.

Running for a Cause That Feels Like Home

At its core, Jeremy believes running brings people back to themselves.

“No matter what our background is,” he said, “at the end of the day, we do it because it makes us feel good.”

He loves seeing people start from nowhere and accomplish things they never thought possible. That transformation. That quiet pride. That shift from doubt to belief.

And now, running with Team Still I Run, he’s carrying that belief forward.

“I love running,” Jeremy said. “But even more, I love running for a great cause. Even the fundraising is cool because you’re raising funds and awareness for something that really matters.”

This spring, as Jeremy lines up at Bayshore, he’ll be running with his story, his miles, and the reminder etched into his leg and lived out every day: movement is medicine.