My story started long before I realized it was being written.
Growing up, I was full of joy and always wanted to lift others up. I carried a light within me and shared it proudly, especially with people who felt like they had none of their own. What I didn't realize then was how powerful that light was until I began to lose it. The loss didn't come because life became harder. It came because I stopped believing in myself.
When I started university, I spent so much time trying to be better, trying to succeed, trying to be recognized. No matter how hard I worked, it felt like nothing was enough. Slowly, I watched myself drift away from the things I loved: my passion for learning, my hobbies, my sense of joy, and even my sense of self. The constant feeling of failure convinced me that I would never be good enough. That's when I found running and the gym. The darker my thoughts became, the longer my runs were and the later my nights in the gym stretched. Those miles became mine. In a world that felt overwhelming, they gave me a moment to breathe, a moment to fight back. With every run and every workout, some of the weight I carried felt a little lighter.
It wasn't easy. I was battling classes, expectations, and the belief that a number somehow defined my worth. But I kept showing up. I held on for myself. I learned to be patient with myself. And little by little, I learned to believe in myself again. Running didn't solve everything, but it helped me keep going when giving up felt easier.
Today, I run because there was a time when running felt like the only thing I could do. I run because movement gave me hope when I couldn't find it anywhere else. And I run for anyone who is fighting battles nobody else can see.
