How Mourning Runs Have Helped Me Grieve My Dad’s Death
I loved my dad’s hands. They were soft and always warm, no matter how cold it was outside. As a kid, I would hold his hand every chance I got. On a sunny Tuesday just before Thanksgiving last year, surrounded by my mom, four siblings, and several life-saving machines, I held my dad’s hand as it went cold for the first and last time.
The grief hit immediately with the force of a truck. It was powerful, all-encompassing, and both physically and emotionally excruciating. In that moment, I wondered the same thing so many other people do after a loved one passes: How am I going to deal with this incredible, heartbreaking loss?
Grief is a beast. Even if you see it coming in the distance, it is a giant wave that crashes with unexpected strength. It tosses you around until you accept the loss of control, letting the wave wash over you until it eventually passes. But, despite feeling unbearable at times, I’ve learned that grief is survivable.
I’ve always turned to running when life gets hard. The aftermath of my dad’s passing was no exception.
The rest of the evening was a blur. I don’t remember the cab ride home from the hospital. I don’t remember if we ate dinner. I do remember waking up the next morning with two sudden, overwhelming needs: I needed to process my grief alone, and I needed to run.
The instinct to be active in my sadness was practically hardwired. Whether I was heartbroken or just trying to de-stress between exams during grad school, a good, hard run has always made me feel better.
I headed outside. The weather was appropriately moody, shifting between gray clouds and golden sunlight. When I started running, the tears began immediately. I had been holding them in for months in an attempt to be strong for my mom and siblings, but I desperately needed a moment to be weak. I ran my dad’s favorite walking route from the days before an aggressive form of cancer took over his body. For six miles, I ran with all my heart, crying frequently as the swells of grief splashed over me one by one.
I finished with a heavy sob under the yellow leaves of a tree I used to climb when I was a kid. Despite my devastation, I felt comforted by my own physical exertion. I had an overwhelming sense that my dad was there with me, holding my hand as I ran smiling at the sky through my tears. I felt better, relieved, grateful, like I had temporarily purged some of the heartache from my body.
According to science, I actually might have.
Running prompts a physical and chemical process that ultimately helps me feel better.
There’s evidence that exercise can help alleviate certain symptoms associated with mental health conditions like depression, Rachel Goldman, Ph.D, a licensed psychologist and clinical assistant professor in the Department of Psychiatry at NYU School of Medicine, tells SELF.
A 2016 meta-analysis in the Journal of Psychiatric Research backs this up. Though there has been extensive debate on the topic, the study concludes that there is reason to believe that exercise can help relieve depression in some people. A 2018 study from the Journal of Affective Disorders also found exercise to have a favorable effect on mood. This is really just the tip of the research iceberg, and while much of the science finds an association, not causation, there is some evidence to suggest why this works.
Running releases brain chemicals like endorphins and endogenous cannabinoids that can help relieve physical pain and emotional stress. The exertion also forces me to focus on my body, not my thoughts, which is sometimes exactly what I need.
Though exercise has helped me tremendously in dealing with grief, it is by no means a one-size-fits-all treatment for mental illness. Also worth noting: Grief is not the same as depression, though the symptoms can sometimes feel indistinguishable; both can cause profound sadness, a lack of interest in social activities, and mood swings. For me, running is best antidote I’ve found for these feelings.
Though running serves as necessary therapy for me, it’s given me even more than that: empowerment.
Running has become a time when I can feel my dad’s presence instead of isolating myself in his absence. It’s an active, moving meditation during which I can release emotions that have nowhere else to go. Sweat and tears aren’t the same, but there is something cleansing about releasing both—especially together.
Over the miles I’ve run since losing my dad, I’ve gained a sense of empowerment at a time that has otherwise made me feel so powerless. Goldman explains that running gives people like me “a sense of control when they feel like they don’t have it, especially after losing a loved one.”
Step by step, I’m charting a new path for myself after losing my dad, one that is so painful but propelling me forward all the same. By facing my sorrow head on, I created an opportunity to remember and reconnect with my dad. Maybe I can’t run away from the grief. But, thankfully, I can run with it.
Rachel Tavel is a doctor of physical therapy, certified strength and conditioning specialist, runner, and writer. She earned her B.A. from Bowdoin College and her D.P.T. from New York University. Prior to becoming a physical therapist, Rachel worked as a travel writer and editor in South and Central America. She now works as a physical therapist in downtown Brooklyn. Follow her on Instagram @followtheola to learn more.
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