Most people run for conventional reasons: training, fitness, stress relief, and fresh air. That’s the same for me, too. But sometimes my best runs have nothing to do with mileage at all. The necessary runs have disregarded pace, distance, or even hitting a certain workout. Some of my most necessary ones have been through tears.

…the cry run…it’s the run where the goal is just to get out the door and come back feeling a little lighter…

I remember the first time it happened so clearly. I’d just left therapy, and it was one of those sessions where you walk out feeling like you’ve been emotionally power-washed. I could’ve gone straight home, crawled into bed, let it sit in my chest all night. Instead, I didn’t want to carry all of what was going on in my head back to my apartment. So I made my way toward the West Side Highway and started running.

At first, it felt normal. Get moving, let my brain settle, let the city be just its usual noise. And then the tears started – not delicate, rom-com-level tears, either. Real tears. The kind that makes your face feel hot and your throat tighten, and your breathing gets kinda weird for a minute. I’m sure I didn’t look cute, but it’s New York City. Nobody asked questions or really cared. And honestly, that’s part of why it worked.

Running through tears is underrated because it’s a different kind of release. You’re moving while it’s happening. It just feels so different from sitting on the couch with the lights off. Even when you feel like you’re falling apart, you’re still doing something with your body. You’re still moving forward, and it’s the closest I’ve personally come to getting things out of my system without needing to talk it out to death.

I’m not saying running fixes anything, nor am I a chronic running crier. I’m not sobbing through Central Park every Tuesday at 7am like clockwork. But I’ve definitely cried on runs more than once. Job stress, dating stress, and life stress just get the best of you sometimes, and you can’t help it. It’s that specific kind of anxiety where everything decides to replay all at once, and it’s too loud to focus.

Those are the days when “just take it easy” doesn’t really cut it, and literally running from my problems feels like the only answer.

Sometimes these runs are faster, too. Not because I’m trying to PB my breakdown, but because there’s something about pushing a little that helps shake things loose. Endorphins, adrenaline, whatever it is, I don’t need to fully understand it to appreciate the after feeling. I’ve started runs feeling wrecked, cried at a random mile, and finished feeling like…okay. I’m still here. Let’s take a breath.

We categorise runs as everything from casual, easy runs to long runs to speed days, and recovery days off. I have another category that fits right in with the rest: the cry run. For me, it’s the run where the goal is just to get out the door and come back feeling a little lighter than when I left.

You should try it sometime.

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