At any given time in New York City’s Central Park, people are running. Some call themselves runners, others don’t. Their motivations range from targeting a new personal record to simply taking a mental break. Some are pacing fast, others are taking it slow. Different and diverse as the undefinable city they live in, they all have one thing in common—they are running their way.
In partnership with New Balance, Runner’s World is spotlighting athletes who run the famous park and what those outings mean to them. Each specifically speaks about how running in this iconic space gives them the opportunity to reflect on their lives. Below, budding running blogger Katherine Kelly shares her story of finding love upon the Reservoir Loop. Explore more inspiring Beyond the Run stories here.
I’ll be honest: When I first started running, it was not for healthy reasons. I was in my freshman year of college and things weren’t going great for me: School was overwhelming, my self-esteem had plummeted, and I was totally unsure about the type of person I wanted to be. In a tale as old as time, I found myself trying to fit into the classic stereotype of the thin college female. Running for toxic reasons never leads to success—physically or emotionally—but I didn’t know that. Trying to run away from my problems and toward an unhealthy vision of myself, I signed up for a marathon. How hard could it be, right?
Looking back on my training, I had no clue what I was doing. I wasn’t fueling enough, wasn’t doing any strength work, wasn’t sleeping enough. I ended up injuring myself, and it took me five hours to finish the marathon. I know I should’ve been proud to finish the race, but I really just felt disappointed in how I’d approached my preparation.
I didn’t race again for a while. I’d still run a few miles here and there, but that was the extent of things until I moved to New York City after graduation. That’s where I met my now-fiancé, who encouraged me to start running consistently again. We started running together in Central Park every Saturday. We’d walk to the park together, run our individual loops, and meet back up to get bagels and coffee. It became our ritual.
During the COVID pandemic, the city became a very scary place. Everyone was nervous. Nothing was open. Neither of us could go home to our families. Central Park was our saving grace in a frightening time. Our established ritual of running the Reservoir Loop every weekend took on new weight as an anchor of joy. When you spend so much time with a place, you start to know the route. You know every turn. It becomes yours in a way, which is interesting because so many people share the same sentiment about the park. But that’s what’s beautiful about it.
The fact that we’re both runners is a pillar of our relationship. It means more than just, “Oh, I like to go run.” It tells you so much about the work ethic of that person, how much they care about their body, how much they value hard work and pushing themselves. It’s a personality trait. And that’s how I see myself: not just as someone who likes to run, but as a runner. And I know he sees himself the same way.
The week before Christmas this past year, it was drizzling and freezing cold outside. We pushed forward with our regular run in the park, but I was not happy about it. About four miles in, he started wheezing. “What is going on?” I thought. Right on cue, the rain picked up. It was no longer drizzling—it was straight-up pouring. “I don’t want you to pass out,” I said. “Let’s just walk.”
He led me to a wooded area of the park where we’d gone on one of our first dates. I was so confused—the rain was coming down, my shoes were caked in mud, and he was talking about all of our memories running here in the park together. Eventually we got to this hidden spot by a creek where we’d sit and watch the water on days when we didn’t run. There was no one around us. Sitting there in the rain, I realized how the park had given us the space we needed to grow as a couple. He got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. The park had brought me my life partner.
While becoming engaged was definitely the biggest relationship status change in my life, my relationship with running has also undergone many changes. I’m kinder to myself now. Very candidly, there was a time when I ran just to be thin. I had no connection with running, it was just a means to an end. The more that I've opened up about this, the more I find that a lot of runners start this way—especially women. But it doesn’t work. I was always injured. I was always mentally struggling, being so mean to myself.
Something weird happened once I was honest with myself, though: I realized that I was wrong. I actually do love running. I loved it all along. That’s why I’d signed up for a marathon all those years ago with no clue how to prepare for it. I loved being out there and I loved challenging myself.
Then it all clicked for me: “I want to eat to fuel my body. I want to show my body how much I love it.” Treating myself properly translated into getting faster and faster, and feeling better and stronger. When you pour love into yourself, your body will respond accordingly. It will thank you for doing so. Every decision I make now is “how will this make me feel?” Not “how will I look?”
I ran another marathon last year and finished in three hours and 30 minutes. I trained for that marathon by myself, and it was great. It taught me so much about being able to rely on myself. Especially those 20-, 22-mile runs. Those are the ultimate confidence builders for me. They prove that I can push through anything. When I’m extremely tired and think, “Maybe I should give up,” I know that I won’t. I know I’ll keep going.
Now my mission is to share my story and connect with other people who’ve had a similar path. My social media accounts help me foster a community of people with similar experiences to my own. One of my favorite quotes says: “You are most equipped to help the person you once were.” Oftentimes, when people get to a better place, they kinda forget how bad it was when they weren’t there. I don’t want to do that. Every time I share something, I think about talking to the person that I once was. What would help younger Katherine?