I didn’t start with running. I started with writing.
Still I Run’s Run.Write.Fight. program invited me to write notes of encouragement to others navigating their own mental health struggles. It felt simple—quiet advocacy, handwritten solidarity. But somewhere between the ink and the intention, I realized something: I wasn’t just supporting others. I was asking for support too.
As I read the stories shared by other runners, I saw myself—reflected in their spirals, their resilience, their refusal to give up. Those stories became mirrors. Not of brokenness, but of belonging. They reminded me that I wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t beyond repair. I was just in need of a path.
That path came through the Mental Health Runner Program. Not because I was fast. Not because I had it all figured out. But because I wanted to move forward, even if it was messy. Still I Run met me there—with gear, structure, and gentle accountability. They didn’t ask me to perform. They asked me to show up.
And I did. Slowly. Tenderly. With a community that didn’t flinch when I said, “I’m struggling.” A community that reminded me that movement can be medicine, and that asking for guidance is not weakness—it’s wisdom.
This Season of Giving, I’m honoring the community that helped me stop running from myself—and start running with myself. If you’ve ever needed movement to metabolize your mental health, Still I Run is waiting for you—with open arms and open trails.
I am proud to be supporting their end of the year Finish Strong Campign and you can join me in donating today: https://givebutter.com/dtYYtb/bonniewilson1?fbclid=IwY2xjawNvhFVleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBicmlkETFxcGp6c3RLWmwzWWwyaVpKAR61_85W0-NA8QtA71HPEVyVct0-X4IbVjmFQYTektassr6Nx84OptWVYA4JkQ_aem_IEIcqb4sNgFKr3itcFvgIg
