Running Through Trauma

In this episode, you are going to learn how the body stores trauma and how running can help you break free from emotional pain through interoception. We explore the science behind the activation of the sympathetic nervous system, which stimulates the body's fight-or-flight response, and how running can help regulate the nervous system and our emotions. 

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:01

Thank you. Hey there, welcome back to the My Own Marker Matriarch Podcast. It's me, your running buddy, Stacey Cacciatore, and today's podcast is going to be focused on running through trauma. What I'm going to be sharing with you today is deeply personal, but I felt compelled to share this because I think there's someone out there who's going to benefit from hearing this today. I do want to provide a trigger warning that topics of suicide and depression are mentioned, so if those trigger you, please proceed listening to this with caution. First thing that I did when I found out that my dad died was I went for a run. Not many people in my life know this, but to be truly authentic with you, my listeners, I must be transparent and share openly, even with those things that are difficult. My father committed suicide. twice. The depth of emotion that I felt upon his death swam into the deepest waters. Did you know that the deepest part of the ocean is called Challenger Deep? It's within the Mariana Trench, and it has such extreme conditions with incredibly high depth and pressure that most life cannot survive at that level. Challenger Deep is around 11,000 meters below the sea surface, which is deeper than flipping Mount Everest upside down. At around six miles, the pressure is a thousand times greater than at sea level. This extreme pressure would crush For us humans and most animals, imagine 100 elephants standing on your head. That's what the pressure would feel like. Deep sea conditions are extreme. Perpetually cold water, no natural light, crushing pressure. However, there are some unique creatures that actually thrive in these harsh conditions. Deep sea cucumbers, snailfish, and anglerfish have all adapted to be able to withstand the extreme pressure and darkness. Take, for example, snailfish. They've evolved their skeletal structure to be made of cartilage to sustain such high pressure. Their translucent exterior reveals all their inner organs. Talk about vulnerable. Or take deep sea cucumbers who have adapted the respiratory systems to the extreme pressure of the deep ocean. They rely upon respiratory trees instead of lungs. The anglerfish, who we probably all know from Finding Nemo, when Dory and Marlin go deep into the ocean to look for Marlin, and they come across a glowing, frightening nightmare of a fish with a glowing lure on top of his head. That's an anglerfish. Dory and Marlin can't see at all, so the anglerfish has the advantage, using the lure to help capture prey in the dark environment. and to be able to see and navigate the sea themselves. Another example is the telescope octopus, who has elongated cylinder-like eyes to help it attune to the dark conditions, which incidentally also has a transparent body like the snailfish. And the dragonfish has bioluminescence that lights up for various purposes. One of them allows them to communicate with other dragonfish in the dark trenches. In the absence of light, these creatures have adapted to the darkness. They've all had cellular adaptations that have allowed them to remain flexible under pressure, But this didn't happen overnight. You might be wondering at this point why I'm diving, no pun intended, deep into the ocean's depths on a podcast about running through trauma after mentioning my father's suicide. I believe that the depths of the ocean serve as a metaphor for the depths of emotion we feel, especially related to grief and trauma. Trauma can cause us to retreat deep into ourselves, perhaps even deeper than the Mariana Trench. At any moment, we can be plunged into the dark depths of our own mind. We're often unprepared for the extreme conditions The shock of the cold waters, the sudden darkness, not being able to see the light or anything around us. It's completely disorienting. The pressure mounts and make us feel the weight of a hundred elephants standing on our head. We feel alone in these dark waters. We didn't ask to be transported into these unsurvivable conditions, but here we are anyways. As we look around, we don't feel like the other creatures who have had time to adapt to their surroundings. We now know how a fish out of water feels. We pray. God, why me? That's how I felt when the nurse called to tell me that my father had passed away from suicide. He had made an attempt the previous year. Not just an attempt, he was clinically dead for three minutes. His brain was without oxygen, he went into a coma, and he remained that way for three weeks. The doctor said he wouldn't survive. They said that even if he did wake up, which wasn't likely, that he would never be the same. He would most certainly suffer brain damage, to what extent they didn't know, but they knew that there would be damage. I sat by his side every day while he was in a coma, only to have him suddenly and miraculously sit up from bed and shout, why is my bed in my driveway? He was confused and angry, but he was alive. Up until this point, I didn't believe that he had actually attempted to take his own life. I thought this was all a big misunderstanding. Despite the doctors telling me that there was no way that the number of pills in his system were an accident, I didn't believe them. I thought that he accidentally took too many of his sleeping pills. So imagine my surprise when my dad openly admitted that he tried to take his own life, and it seemed like he wasn't too happy that he wasn't successful. It was truly a miracle from God that he was still with us, and I thought that he was going to take this opportunity to live out his best life, to take the message from God that this was his opportunity to start over. He was given another chance at life. I had spent the last year doing everything in my power to nurse him back to health, to show him that I loved him, to involve him in my children's lives, to make him feel loved and wanted and valued. Even after he had abandoned me again and again, I set it all aside. I felt like this was my chance to finally earn my father's love, to save his life and my own. Selfishly thinking that I alone could be enough, I had always felt like I was not enough, but maybe now, maybe now I could be enough to live for. So when he did it again, almost a year to the date after his first attempt, I was devastated. Never enough. Still unlovable. Abandoned again. I wasn't even a consideration. He didn't leave a note. There was no I'm sorry or explanation or a text that said he loved me. I imagined a handwritten letter on his desk to my sister and I telling us one final time how much we meant to him and how sorry he was that he hurt us. But there was nothing. I received a call that my dad passed away at 4 a.m. the darkness of the morning before anyone was awake. So the first thing I did was I hopped on my treadmill and went for a run. At the time, I didn't know the science behind how running could help the body process trauma. I didn't understand how running helps regulate our nervous system or provides a physical outlet for intense emotion. All I knew is that I felt a rising in my chest that elevated my heart rate and made me start breathing rapidly. I didn't consciously think of how my sympathetic nervous system was activated. I had heard of fight or flight, obviously, but I didn't know much about it or think about how it was working in my body at that time. The year was 2016. And since then, I've devoted myself to learn more about trauma, the body, and how the two are intertwined. But then all I knew is I had to move. A few hours later, I called my mom and I told her that my father passed away. I received a call from her husband a few hours later telling me that my mom was admitted to the hospital and was in the ICU because she couldn't breathe. She had had a panic attack thinking of the man who she'd been married to for 25 years, the father of her children. had taken his life her sympathetic nervous system was also activated and she began breathing rapidly and couldn't catch her breath unfortunately due to her competing health issues like copd and heart disease it contributed her not being able to get her breath back once it was lost they put her in a medically induced coma and she died 10 days later my mom my best friend my number one cheerleader we loved each other unconditionally i was completely devastated I went for a run. The weekend after my mom passed away, I ran the Charlotte Race Fest half marathon. It was a cold morning and my asthma was acting up, but thankfully I brought my inhaler. I fought to catch my breath and thought of how my mom must have felt. In my last mile, suddenly my mom appeared next to me, but it was her as a child. She showed me how fast her legs could run and reminded me how when she was in elementary school, she was the fastest girl in class. She told me that story so many times with pride, and I think she was so prideful because unfortunately, as she got older, she was not mobile. She wasn't able to move around. Her weight prevented her from being able to do things like take me to carowinds or the zoo or do walking outings. By the age of 50, she was already in a wheelchair and had to use a scooter when getting around at the grocery store. Her mobility progressively got worse, and towards the end, she could barely move out of bed. But in that moment, she was running. She was a little girl again, and she was free. She showed me the shackles coming off of her legs as she ran, symbolizing how free she was. She told me not to worry about her and that she was finally free from the body that kept her trapped during her time on Earth. She could finally be herself without the constraints of a body that betrayed her. She encouraged me to run with that same level of abandon, not worrying about time, not worrying about pace, but to run free. Tears streamed down my face as I crossed the finish line. My mom was with me. My mom was happy. My mom was finally free. Ten days later, my grandmother passed away. My mom's mom. The doctors say cervical cancer. I say a broken heart. My mom was her best friend. When she found out my mom died, she couldn't see a reason for living, and she gave up. I could see it in her eyes. The irony of my father thinking that his life didn't matter was that it mattered so much that it had a domino effect affecting the lives of everyone around him. Three deaths within a two-week period took its toll on me. The trauma I experienced ran deep through my body, but I just needed to survive. Not only were their deaths emotionally taxing, but I was also administering all three of their estates. The logistics of managing an estate while taking care of children and working full time, it was unparalleled to anything I had ever experienced in my life. It sounds dramatic to call yourself an adult orphan, but given the proximity of their deaths and the unexpected nature of them, I truly felt like an orphan who was all alone with no one in the world in their corner. As a mother, I'm responsible for the wellbeing of my children, not the other way around. I needed to be there to support them emotionally through losing their grandparents, particularly my mother, whom they called Nina and were extremely close to, but had no one to support me. Who supported me during that time was my running. I viewed running like my best friend. I mentioned earlier that at this time, I had no idea how running was helping me process the trauma. All I knew is that I felt better when my feet were on the pavement. Turns out that there's research to support this. According to Bessel van der Kolk, author of The Body Keeps the Score, trauma is stored in the body, not just the mind. Exercise, particularly arithmetic activities like running, walking, swimming, or dancing, are shown to help regulate the nervous system. Running in particular is great because it provides a structure for a repetitive movement that can really help calm that fight or flight response and release door tension. During that time in my life, I was in survival mode. I had been thrown into challenger deep. The pressure was intense. I was trying to work full time, take care of my children full time, who were 10 and 14 at the time, while managing the logistics of three estates and the emotional turmoil of losing both my parents and the grandmother whom I was extremely close to. It was so dark I couldn't see directly in front of me. It was one step at a time. one foot in front of the other, literally and figuratively. I didn't know what I was doing or where I was going, but I woke up every morning and I ran. I ran when I was tired, depressed, felt weak, or otherwise didn't want to because I knew I'd feel better when I was done. Now for the science behind it. The fight or flight response is an evolutionary adaptation that helps individuals survive dangerous situations by preparing them to either fight or to flee. Going back to the angler fish who developed an evolutionary adaptation from the spine of a fish's dorsal fin to develop a fish rod extension on its forehead that acts like a light in the darkness of Challenger Deep. The fish developed an extreme adaptation to have the ability to bioluminescence in the name of survival. I was a chubby kid and an obese young adult. I wasn't sporty and was always picked last for the team. Kids shouted, Boom, bada boom, when I ran. And they would lament, no, we don't want Stacy on our team, when the PE teacher would put me with a group. I would fake being sick just to get out of PE. Quite literally, I would bang my wrist up against the light poles on the way to school when I had to fake a sprained wrist to get out of participating. I only started running to lose weight. I had no idea running would save my life. I felt like my body adapted to running like an angler fish adapted to the deep sea. With every step, every mile, every run, I was making adaptations to survive. I was developing a system to regulate my nervous system. Running offered a physical outlet to channel my intense emotions associated with trauma. The deaths of my parents were one piece of this, but there are several other bricks that built my wall of trauma. At this point in my life, I didn't feel like my body belonged to me. I didn't feel safe. I wasn't safe physically or emotionally. It wasn't safe for me to express my emotions. I wasn't safe in my body. Running offered me a safe space. My entire life fell out of control, but running empowered me. One way that running empowered me is that I was doing something that I never thought I could. As a child, I would have never imagined being a runner, but here I was, adapting. And if I could adapt to do something that was the most difficult, challenging, out-of-character act, Well, I could do anything. In The Body Keeps the Score, the author states that agency is a technical term for feeling in charge of your life. At this time in my life, I felt like I had no agency. Agency starts with what scientists call interoception, or our awareness of subtle sensory body-based feelings. The greater our awareness, the greater our potential to control our lives. And that awareness must come before knowing why we feel a certain way. But without having mind-body connection, this is difficult. Anterioception can be significantly impacted by trauma. Trauma can alter the interoceptive awareness leading to difficulties in recognizing and regulating our internal sensations and emotions. This can manifest as a heightened sensitivity to internal cues, a numbing of bodily sensations, or disconnection from the body, all of which I experienced. Running can enhance anterioception. It's essential to perceive and interpret bodily sensations when running. Running can enhance our interceptive awareness as runners are forced to pay attention to internal cues like breathing, heart rate, muscle fatigue, and pain. Running was subconsciously training my body to pay attention to my bodily sensations. I find myself checking in with my body constantly during a run. Does this feel hard right now? Why? Do I need to slow down? Thank you. Not only does running help me monitor my body in the moment, but it helps me with the interoception when not running as well. For example, if I find that I tire early on in my run, like earlier than usual, it's usually because I didn't eat or drink enough water with electrolytes earlier that week. Doing yoga has also helped me immensely with interoception and my runs as well. Because it brings mindfulness to the body, I'm able to better connect my mind and body during a run. If you've ever taken a yoga class, you'll notice that the instructor often prompts you for breathing and reflection. She'll ask you to reflect upon where you're feeling at your body. She gently asks you if you can push further. Yoga encourages you to meet yourself where you are that day, that hour, that minute, to challenge yourself but not push. There's no competition. Only attunement with your own body and knowing what you need in the moment. Through practicing interception through running and yoga, I've been able to extend my bodily awareness and creating safety for myself outside of running as well. And just when I thought I was healed, I went through a difficult time in my life. My trauma was triggered and what I thought I had already worked through was awoken and the beast was bigger and scarier than ever. I tried to push away the feelings, the warning signs. I'd stayed busy and told my mind to shut up. I felt in my body before my mind. My mind tried to override how I felt, but my body would not let me. I began having panic attacks. I felt unsafe. Yet again. I felt like I was thrown into Challenger Deep with no oxygen tank. The pressure was immense and building. I couldn't see a way out. I was in such depths of the darkness, I couldn't see the light. I began to give up hope. I couldn't even get out of bed to garner the energy to take a shower, much less run. I thought, what if I just lay down on the seafloor of this deep ocean trench? What if I just don't get up? In reality, the immense pressure would crush any unprotected body, causing instant death. The water temperature would be freezing, and the environment would be completely dark. I didn't want to die. I just needed a way out. I prayed. I prayed for the strength to make a single stroke, to make a single step. I didn't have it I made to sprint to the surface, but I needed something. My love for running began to dissipate. I lost interest in all things I used to love. Who's a runner if they don't run? It's funny how I started off feeling like a non-runner who ran, and I was now in this place of being a runner who couldn't run. Vander Kolk says that the prize for ignoring or distorting the body's messages is being unable to detect what's truly dangerous or harmful for you, and just as bad, what's safe or nourishing. The emotions in your mind begin to leak out of your body in the form of panic attacks, migraines, and asthma attacks, all of which I was having. Suppressing our inner cries for help does not stop the stress hormone from raging through the body. I knew I had to crawl my way out of the Mariana Trench. Dirt gathered under my fingernails as I clawed at the sides of the trench trying to make progress. I wedged my foot onto the trench's embankment only to have it crumble beneath me. It seemed like an impossible feat until I calmed my mind. Have you ever run and thought of the finish line throughout the entire race? It's miserable. Throughout my running career, I had to teach myself that the run isn't about crossing the finish line. It's about the journey along the way. Lean into it. Feel your body. Feel the pain and the joy. Breathe. Take in your surroundings. You'll notice that your body begins to feel safer and more relaxed. I began to appreciate the vibrant colors of the flowers beginning to bloom as spring sprung. The gentle breeze made the trees sway as if they were talking to me. I let go of running for speed and allowed myself to walk. I walked in my local greenway and took in deep breaths, thanking the trees for helping me breathe by releasing oxygen and absorbing carbon dioxide. Conversely, I was helping the trees by exhaling the carbon dioxide that the trees needed to live. What a miracle God has given us. He created an earth that allows trees and humans to have this beautiful symbiotic relationship. Slowly I began to let go of the tension in my shoulders, the heaviness I felt in my heart, and I dried the tears from my eyes. I practiced trauma release exercises unknowingly which helped me process through my trauma. Trauma release exercises, also known as TRE, is a gentle way to help the body let go of trauma and find a sense of relief. With each walk, the stress in my legs loosened. With every yoga pose in the evening, I released trauma stored in my hips. The shaking in my body throughout running loosened my stuck emotions and allowed me to release tension. Connecting my mind, body, and spirit with nature and their moving my body helped me work through my trauma yet again. I'm sharing this deeply personal experience with you today because I care about you. I see you. I feel you. I know that some of you out there have gone through traumatic situations. I know that some of you are still holding onto this trauma in your bodies. I know many of you are not even aware that you are. Many of you are like me. You may feel emotional pain and not know why. You may feel like your body doesn't belong to you or it's betraying you. You may be trying to start a habit of running, but it all feels too overwhelming right now. You may be suffering from depression or anxiety and don't know where to turn. And I want you to know that I'm here for you. We will get through this together one step at a time. If you're in survival mode and having a hard time even getting out of bed, much less going for a run, I want you to know you're not alone. And I want you to know that you can do this. We have had to survive unimaginable situations akin to the extreme conditions of the deep sea. We have adapted to the dark, cold, high pressure waters, but we don't have to stay there. We have agency. We have a say in what the next chapter of our life is like. It's not too late to crawl out from the marina trench and reach dry land. Not to ignore the adaptations we made when we were in Challenger Deep, rather to continue to evolve, to connect our mind, body, and soul and process our trauma through moving our bodies so it doesn't leak out in unhealthy ways. If no one else has told you this today, I love you. I believe in you. You're strong. You are worthy of this next chapter in your life. I and our community here at Mile Marker Matriarch are running alongside of you on your journey. I would love to hear how this episode resonated with you. So please reach out by following us on Instagram at mile marker matriarch or visit the podcast on mile marker matriarch podcast.com. You can send me a message on Instagram if you have any questions or feedback. Until next time, I hope you have a great run. Now here comes to legal language. This podcast is for educational purposes only. It's not intended as medical advice, not a medical professional, and my recommendations are shared based on my experience and knowledge as a certified personal trainer, running coach, and nutrition consultant. Always consult with your doctor or qualified healthcare provider before beginning any new exercise program, making significant changes to your diet, or addressing any health concern.