John heard Amy knock and let herself in. "You don't have to knock, you know. You have a key, just let yourself in."
"Oh, okay. It just seemed like a courteous thing to do."
"We're way past that," John smiled and was met with a serious gaze.
"I have to show you something." Amy held a stack of magazines close to her chest. "Remember how I asked if I could send that photo you took into Runner's World?"
"What?" John's face lit up. "They actually used it?"
Amy grinned and nodded while biting her lip and looking down, she matched his exuberance with shyness. "Page 42," she handed him a magazine.
John flipped to the page and saw the photo of Amy, the one he took of her overlooking the Hudson Valley, sweat beads visible on her brow, a look of determination on her face. The photo took half the page, and underneath was an article. He looked up at her in surprise.
"I really didn't think they'd use it. But they did."
"Let's go sit," he said, and she followed him to the couch and they both read silently together.
Running Is My Solace, by Amy McGuinness
I started running as a pre-teen, and it would be accurate to say that running molded me into the woman I am today. As I grew, I felt not only my legs and heart growing stronger, but my character as well. Running contributed to my independence, my health, and my competitive nature. I've often wondered how I'd have turned out if I hadn't been a runner. Sure I'd have many of the same values, but would I be the woman I am today? Would I have the inner strength and stamina to survive and even thrive with what was coming my way?
A little over a year ago, I was the victim of violent crime. I was raped in my own home by a man I'd met on the internet, a man whom I'd just gone on a date with. That man is now serving time in prison for raping me as well as two other women. He lost his freedom, but it's taken me a while to get my own back.
I never stopped running; in fact, I upped my mileage this past year. But I was also running away from an experience that I couldn't cope with, that I didn't want to have as part of my make-up, so I pushed the memory down and tried not to think about it. I didn't want anyone to know what had happened to me, so I didn't tell anyone. It was pretty easy to keep the secret, since I was relatively new to the city, and after the rape I became withdrawn and I was riddled with shame. I put in my miles, went to work, showed up, and fulfilled my commitments, but I was not flourishing, I was not thriving. I joined a running group, but mostly just for the accountability. I met the group on Saturday, but then took off on my own. I ran by myself and kept my problems to myself.
I allowed the "victim" label to permeate and infiltrate my very being. Where I once had been confident and brave, I now looked over my shoulder. But it wasn't just the fear of being victimized again. I lived in constant fear that someone would find out and I would become known as the woman who got herself raped.
But that isn't what happened: I didn't
allow
this crime to happen. I was overpowered, and I am not responsible for what happened to me. I spent a year in therapy, which was really helpful, but it was in finally telling friends and family that I got my mental strength back. I wanted to do it alone, but letting other people help me actually made me stronger. Eventually I met a friend who also had things in his past he wasn't proud of, but he showed me how to put it to good use. That friend not only has freedom from worrying what people think of him, he has also used his awful experience to help others. He told me he can't change what happened in the past, but he does have the power to put the experience to good use.
At first I didn't believe that telling people I was raped would be helpful to anyone. But now I'm learning that it wasn't the crime that was important - it's what I've done since then that matters.
I'm grateful that I had running to fall back on while I processed this. Running helps me stay strong physically and mentally, and it took a while, but I'm now even stronger than I was before I was raped. That four-hour ordeal that I suffered last October was horrible, but it was just something that happened to me. I didn't choose to have that experience, but while it is now a part of who I am, it doesn't define me. I'm a complex woman and a survivor.
I'm a runner, I am strong, and I am free.
