Inner Strength

This summer, I opened a private therapy practice for couples, individuals, and families in Silver Spring, Maryland. While I learned about psychological interventions and theories in graduate school, professional conferences, and clinical experiences, the unconditional kindness and respect I show my clients stems from the behaviors modeled by my high school running coach and third grade teacher, Anthony Belber. Anthony had a major role in shaping me to be the therapist, GDS assistant coach, and person I am today; and for that I am eternally grateful.

Anthony was my first teacher at GDS, when I was eight years old. I remember how at recess, Anthony would gently encourage my friends and me to go outside and run around... but then would graciously stay in to supervise us as we built paper doll homes instead. In retrospect, I realize he didn't just want us to go out for our own sakes; we were keeping him from precious kid-free time in the school day, time that he needed to prepare for lessons and for the GDS High School running program. Indeed, Anthony talked about running and coaching frequently, and my third grade self always thought the runners sounded crazy: What were these people doing just running all the time, sometimes literally in circles?

Flash forward to high school: I first pegged myself as a theater kid, but my friends Emily Kelin ‘08, Julia Coursey ‘08, and Samy Kumar ‘08 kept talking about this great community on the cross-country team. During winter and spring track, I would walk by team meetings on the way to the library to catch glimpses of my crush (track star Duncan Belew ‘08), and Anthony would warmly wave and encourage me to join the team. I figured I’d give one season of running a try, never thinking that season would last over 15 years.

While I now love to run, I have never been a skilled runner. I was plagued with a different injury each season in high school: hip, knee, ankle... and, of course, my toe, which earned me my GDS running nickname, “Stub-her-toe.” (In truth, I didn’t just stub it – I broke it on the winding metal staircase at cross-country camp.) I continued running at Macalester College, and take pride in the fact that I was the slowest runner in my league who stuck with it and completed every race.

I was forced to stop running for many years due to a serious illness, but the lessons I learned never left me. Most notably, when I was 26, I had a brief yet terribly painful medical procedure during which I found myself singing the same songs in my head that I would sing to myself during a difficult cross-country workout. As I pushed through, I realized I hadn't thought of those songs in close to a decade. When I badly needed inner strength, I dug into the reserves created through my experiences in cross-country under the nurturing and guidance of Anthony. In an email I sent him afterwards, I wrote: