Last I left you, it was January of 2012, and I had just walked off my college track team. By “walked off“, I mean I literally quit running intervals on the indoor track during practice, and I walked out an emergency exit without looking back. I finally accepted the painful truth that I was suffering from anorexia and, at the time, running was a huge contributor to my sickness.
Thank God for that fleeting moment of insight when I realized that I could not carry on the way I was. As time went by I started to reconnect with friends and family from back home in New Zealand, loved ones with whom I’d fallen out of contact because in their attempts to reach out to me in the throes of my illness, I thought they were all crazy. Voluntarily, I found a therapist who specialized in eating disorders, got rid of my running shoes and vowed to get healthy — and to never run again.