There’s something truly powerful about running. While the act itself is simple, it holds a quiet strength that transforms both mind and body. No fancy gear or complicated moves. Simply put one foot in front of the other, over and over, and syncing with the rhythm of your breath.
Long before I started running, I watched my parents lace up their shoes. It was just something they did. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I didn’t know what running meant. I just knew running existed in the background of my life as an option.
Years later, running became about freedom. As a hyperactive 10-year-old, I was allowed to step outside and go. Well, it was more like “Amber, you’re bouncing off the walls, go outside!” This was pure freedom at that age! Granted, I was only permitted to run loops around my neighborhood block, but within that small circle, I felt completely free.
And then it became a challenge: how far could I go today? It was 10-year-old me versus the distance (1, 2, 3 more neighborhood loops!). As one of my favorite singers of the time said: Don’t stop me now!
In a world that often feels cluttered and chaotic, running brings clarity. It strips everything down to its purest form: movement, breath, awareness. Awareness of the sunrise, the rush of the wind, the sound of your footsteps. These moments, simple and ordinary, can become the foundation for something greater.
During the emotion-filled teen years, running taught me many useful things: that I was capable of more than I thought and that every small effort compounds. Not to mention, I was now allowed to… drum roll, please… run around the block AND down the street to the adjacent neighborhood. I chose the path in the woods to connect my destinations — in the mind of a 13-year-old, I was basically a world traveler.
But the real gift of running came when running stopped being something I did and became something that held me together. I didn’t recognize it at first, but running was quietly tending to my mental health. It gave my anxious thoughts somewhere to go. It burned off the chaos. It created space between feeling overwhelmed and being overwhelmed. During the stressful college days when my mind felt crowded, the rhythm of breath simplified everything. One step. One mile. One run at a time.
And then when I struggled with postpartum depression, and again when my second child was born prematurely, I found myself asking the same questions over and over: why is this happening, and how do I get through it? Running didn’t solve my problems, but it made them manageable. It reminded me that movement changes perspective. Emotions, like hills, eventually crest.
Starting a running routine or training for a race can feel overwhelming at first. But each mile, each step, each moment builds on the last.
Think of every training session as a piece of the puzzle. A tough run? It teaches resilience. A slower pace? It teaches patience. A personal best? It proves that progress, no matter how small, is worth celebrating. Just like a mosaic, the beauty of your journey comes from these individual pieces, each contributing to the bigger picture of who you’re becoming.
As my kids get older, another gift has come from running. One that surprised me with its weight.
I want my kids to see what “healthy” actually looks like. Not the kind of health that’s about appearance or perfection. But the kind that shows up consistently.
I want them to see me chase goals, not because I am guaranteed to succeed, but because the pursuit matters. To work toward something hard in small, unglamorous increments (and maybe while also quietly questioning my life choices, such as running during the arctic winter of 2026).
I started running for freedom. I stayed for the challenge. I relied on it for my mental health. And now, I run for the example it sets.
Because one day, when my kids decide to chase something hard- whatever that looks like – I want them to remember that they’ve seen this before.
Amber Ferreira is a regular Rock’N Race participant and a Concord Hospital physical therapist. This year’s Rock’N Race will take place on Wednesday, May 6. Registration fees and charitable gifts to the Rock’N Race support Concord Hospital Payson Center for Cancer Care. Inside the Payson Center, The HOPE Resource Center provides support programs, social work, nutritional counseling, complementary therapies and financial guidance at no cost to patients. Participants and sponsors of the 2025 race helped to raise over $348,000 for the HOPE Resource Center. By giving to the Rock‘N Race, you’re helping make these services possible. This event has raised over $6 million dollars for cancer care since 2003.
For more information, visit https://giveto.concordhospital.org/events/rock-n-race.