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Outdoor: Journal
Total Characters: 8,896
Total Word Count: 1,597
Total Images: 8
Est. Read Time: 8 min (@ 200wpm)

Anxiety to 5K’s

Published: Nov 24, 2025

Lake Erie
2025

Tight chest. Sweat. Blurred vision. Hands locked. Ears ringing. A knot in my throat.

My first panic attack.

I had woken up early to train at my university gym in Mexico, barely fueled and naive in my 19-year-old body. I was back there studying criminology, ready to try out for the school soccer team. I had no idea that one morning would completely rearrange how I understood myself.

Growing up, fútbol (which I’ll refer to as “soccer” for now) was everything. I played wherever I could: recess fields, after church grounds, pavement, dirt. At this point we had already moved to Wisconsin, I was the “new kid”, quick and scrappy on the soft midwest grass. When we moved again, this time to Canada at 15, that same confidence carried me into a U18 team with older players who became my first friends after moving.

Time flew by and after graduating high school, I still didn’t know what I wanted to study. All I loved were soccer, music, and movies. So when my dad suggested I go back to Mexico because tuition was cheaper, something clicked: play for the school team, train hard, maybe even try out professionally. At least that was the plan, until the panic attack hit.

What followed was one of the darkest years of my life. Multiple panic attacks a day. Dozens of doctor visits. Confusion and fear. Eventually, they found a minor valve issue in my heart, nothing serious, nothing dangerous, nothing I should’ve been feeling. But my brain didn’t care. My sense of invincibility collapsed. I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression.

Looking back, the cultural shock of returning to a Spanish-speaking university after leaving Mexico at five played a role, but nothing compared to the psychological impact of that moment in the gym. My worst point was a single episode of depersonalization. Once was enough, so I decided I needed to go home.

A year passed. The depression faded, but the anxiety stayed. I went through a self-help book my doctor recommended, only skimming over it, while still avoiding proper help. Back then, going to a psychiatrist felt like admitting weakness, something our culture didn’t encourage. And because my panic attacks started during exercise, movement became a trigger. Sweat, a racing heart, short or fast breaths… they all felt like danger. My brain constantly outmuscled my body.

For years, I avoided that feeling. I stuck to camping, snowboarding, casual kick-ups. Luckily I still had film and music, which were comfort zones I already loved. Eventually my creative career was starting to bloom…until the pandemic hit. I moved back home near Lake Erie, where I sat on my ass for the year, and felt my momentum fall apart. Toronto felt far away, and the creative world is built on showing up, something I already struggled with while living in the city. Watching my peers “succeed” on socials didn’t help. I didn’t want to admit how much that impacted my mental health until my partner helped me see it clearly.

Eventually, I hit a point where something needed to change. I decided to pick up a book I had read about online, called The Book of Not Knowing by Peter Ralston, and it opened a new way of thinking, more observation, less judgment. I felt a spark of energy I hadn’t felt in years.

With hesitation, I joined a friend’s soccer pickup game in Toronto… and to no surprise I realized I was out of shape. The level I had once taken for granted was gone. I ended up straining a tendon in my foot. Bad timing as I had to fly to Europe soon after to document a tour, but when it healed, I knew I wanted to run again. To play again. To move again.

That pickup game made something clear: my body wasn’t the same, but neither was my relationship with effort. And this was the first time the ideas from Ralston’s book really mattered. The book had given me just enough awareness to not judge myself so harshly… to look at my reactions, my fear, even my disappointment, without letting them define me. It didn’t fix my anxiety, but it created a small gap between what I felt and how I reacted. And that gap became the space where change was possible.

Lake Erie, Ontario
Shot on Osmo Action 5 Pro
2025

So I looked up beginner programs and found the guided runs on the Nike app. I remember getting excited for my first run, and realized that I hadn’t even owned a pair of running shoes. I immediately bought some shoes, a windbreaker, and downloaded the plan. The first run was twenty minutes—twenty minutes more than I’d run in eleven years. And instantly my brain flooded me thoughts:

“What if I get dizzy?”
“What if I need help? Will my phone have a signal?”
“How embarrassing if I have to stop someone on the road for help.”
“What if my legs and arms cramp like last time?”

I caught myself sabotaging myself once again. But this time, I made myself aware of it. I now had the ability to recognize mechanisms instead of believing them. So I centered myself, hit start, and started running.

I remember my legs felt like concrete for the first 30 seconds. But what stayed with me was remembering how the coach kept telling me to slow down, even more. It felt ridiculous, as if I was speed-walking. At first, I kept questioning how this is going to help me at all, but as the run went on, he made it clear that the goal wasn’t to run fast. It was to feel good. To enjoy it. To simply move without fighting myself. If we feel good on our first run, we will want to come back to it.

By the end, I was exhausted. Embarrassed, honestly. But proud. I had run slow, shaky, anxious, for the first time in eleven years. My heart rate spiked and I felt that old anxiety creeping in, but instead of spiraling, I observed it. Acknowledged it. Let it pass. It was the first time movement and fear showed up together and I didn’t withdraw.

I was ready for my second run.

… Then I took a two-month break.

I realized something deeper was at play. After reading about avolition (a lack of drive tied to dopamine imbalance or depressive patterns), it made sense. I knew I wasn’t initiating or finishing anything, and the truth was, I was burning hours doom scrolling and on YouTube.

I downloaded an app called ScreenZen, locked down my usage, and suddenly found three extra hours a day. Time I hadn’t even realized I’d been losing. That shift alone gave me back my focus and energy.

Lake Erie, Ontario
Shot on Osmo Action 5 Pro
2025

Summer passed, but I still wanted to run. I got some cold-weather gear and restarted the program. I felt slow, heavy, but every run took me somewhere new. A little cleaner stride. A little more breath. A little more clarity. There was one run in particular that stayed with me. I was running along Lake Erie just as the sun was starting to drop, that golden hour where everything feels softer, quieter. The waves were crashing hard that evening, louder than my breath, louder than my thoughts. I remember running toward the sunset (literally), and feeling this strange mix of effort and peace, like my body was working but my mind wasn’t fighting it. There’s something about chasing the light while hearing water fold into the shore that makes everything feel temporary, but in a comforting way. I don’t think I had felt that kind of calm in a long time. I finally understood why people talk about runner’s highs… not the adrenaline, but the mental quiet.

Running started bleeding into my daily life. The Nike app paired with Ralston’s book and some help with self discipline, felt like a coach for not only my body but for my mind. Nike’s pacing kept things safe, structured, grounded. It was the first time in years that my mind and my body weren’t fighting each other. It was cool to see that the Nike coach was teaching me how to be my own personal coach. I wrote more. I read more (three books in two months, something I hadn’t done since high school). I enjoyed movies more. My family more. My partner more. Even my time alone felt fuller. Movement cleared my vision, not metaphorically, literally. I could see more. Hear more. Feel more. It stopped being frightened to feel alive in my own body.

Not too long ago I ran my first 5K — something I don’t think I’ve ever done. It wasn’t fast, and it definitely wasn’t perfect, but it felt like crossing some invisible line I’d been stuck behind for years. And now, a few weeks later, my running plan (yes, I still follow running plans) actually has me running a 6k this week. It’s wild to think about how far I’ve come from that first twenty-minute jog where I was basically speed-walking and trying not to panic.

Lake Erie, Ontario
Shot on Osmo Action 5 Pro
2025

*Que: “I Hate Sundays“ by Murr* lol

If you’re thinking of starting, just know:
Your legs will hurt.
Your head might ache.
You might actually learn that you don’t drink enough water.
And yes, the Nike coach voices will sound cheesy at first.

But if you let yourself lean into it... into the breath, the rhythm, the honesty of moving... you’ll be surprised at how much you end up learning about yourself in the process.

Awareness changed how I related to fear.
Structure changed how I related to movement.

Running didn’t fix my anxiety. It just taught me how to meet it at my own pace.

GEAR (RATING)

Shoes: Adidas
Socks: Arc’teryx Merino Wool
Bottoms: Norvan Tights, Incendo Pants (if needed)
Top (Base): Rho Merino Wool Crew Neck LS
Top (Layer): Incendo Airshell Hoody
Vest: Nathan Pinnacle 12L
Accessories:
Arc’teryx Satoro Merino Toque
Arc’teryx Venta Mitten
Arc’teryx Satoro Merino Neck Gaiter
Black Diamond Spot 400 R Headlamp

Book: The Book of Not Knowing

App: Nike Running

Gear Review: (coming soon)

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