SRTT Member Spotlight*: Kelly L.
Why support me? Why support anyone? Why support an organization, or a team, or a person? Why spend your time reading this? Why donate?
Because you believe. YOU have faith that you are making a difference through supporting others. Faith is powerful.
Let me tell you about my own journey, my own struggles, and WHY supporting me is powerful and also empowering to other women. It goes a little something like this:
I, Kelly Lorch, have NEVER been athletic. It’s almost laughable how non-athletic I was in childhood, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. I tried out for every possible sport. (basketball, volleyball, track, softball) I’m 5’10” so you can imagine how horrified the coaches were to discover how truly uncoordinated I was. I also struggled with asthma. I was never picked for a team. You can imagine what that did to my self-confidence and how popular that made me. Kids are cruel. In high school, I had a medical note from a doctor saying I was excused from any running activities because of asthma.
In 1999, fresh out of high school, life sucker punched me. It snuck up from behind and knocked me down. I found out I was going to be a mom at the age of 18. I took a pregnancy test in a Circuit City bathroom, where I worked at the time. Circuit City was also where I found out I’d be a single mom. It’s where we met. He worked there too. All of my co-workers...they knew he’d been in a terrible car accident and didn’t survive. Before me. They knew before me. Everyone also knew I was pregnant. I walked into work that fateful day, unknowing and happy. My manager randomly gave me an employee review, secluded in a back office, until my mom and sister could get there to deliver the news.
I couldn’t breath or think or be. I wanted to die, but this little life inside me gave me purpose. This little life empowered me to be better and rise up. I pulled myself up by my boot straps and showed life I’m a survivor.
I gave up college and scholarships. At the age of 18, I got full time government job with health insurance. I watched my friends go to college, have a carefree life, go out and party. While I carted my beautiful daughter to daycare, worked 8 hours, picked her up, and went home. Only to repeat the process. I had a great support system but it was still exhausting. Being a single parent is exhausting. Don’t ever let single parents tell you it’s not.
I didn’t give up, I kept going because I had to. Not just for me but for that little life that wasn’t mine. At the age of 20, I used my savings and bought a cute little starter home.
Enter 2003. I started dating my future husband. It takes a seriously special man to seriously date a single mom. It takes an even more special man to marry a single mom. And an all around incredible man to adopt my incredible girl. One year later, OUR daughter’s life would be forever changed (or ruined) when we had our son.
So let’s recap, shall we: No sports. Asthma. Low self-esteem. Pregnancy. Young single mom. No college. Full-time job. Homeowner. Husband. Married with children. Life is good.
Enter 12/31/15. At a New Years Eve party, a friend suggests we RUN the Triple Crown of Running, a spring race series that occurs over course of a few months and includes a 5k, a 10k and a 10 miler. Ha! What a preposterous idea. She’s known me since high school. She’s the runner, the basketball player, the athlete.
Let’s run, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. As if the idea of me running wasn’t a joke in and of itself. This asthmatic, non-athletic, uncoordinated person....RUNNING! It was a terrifying thought. But I know how to overcome and rise to a challenge. And this would certainly qualify as a challenge. So, I signed up and began my running journey.
On 1/11/16, I laced up the only pair of semi-athletic shoes I owned. I’d had them since high school and I graduated in 1999, which makes them downright geriatric in the world of running shoes. They were actually hiking shoes and in perfectly good condition. They were also 2 sizes too small. I knew nothing about proper hydration, or fueling, or nutrition, or the right type of running shoes. I didn’t own a sports bra. I kept thinking, god what am I doing? I did what I could with what little athletic knowledge I had. I downloaded the Couch to 5k app, went to my YMCA, walking up the stairs to the track, put my earbuds and did some stretches I’d watched on YouTube. I felt extremely out of place and uncomfortable in my own skin. Taking that first step was so monumental. I had no idea what I was doing but I tried anyway. The C25K app started me out with 30 seconds of running, 60 seconds of walking, repeat for 30 minutes. That’s all I could do. Slowly, very slowly, I kept adding running time.
Being asthmatic presented a problem in the beginning. My lungs highly disapproved of my activities, which meant using my inhaler before every run. Growing up, I’d been made fun of when I used it in front of other kids. So, it was embarrassing and shameful. Before every race, I’d squirrel away that inhaler, take it out at the last minute, hide my face behind my hair and use it as quickly as I could. I hated using it, but I needed it.
But despite everything, I crushed the Triple Crown of Running! Each race day, that distance was the farthest I’d run up to that point. So why stop there? There was a half marathon happening weeks after the 10 miler, the Kentucky Derby Festival half marathon. 13.1 miles! Could I do it? I’d come too far to quit now. Crossing that finish line was like nothing I’d ever experienced. It was pure joy and elation, a high. Crossing the finish line was addicting. Getting a medal was addicting. The self pride and sense of accomplishment you feel is addicting. Everything about it is addicting and powerful. Training for those distances and running those distances IS an accomplishment.
Running became a lifeline. It helped my anxiety tremendously. I found myself in a better mood overall. I was becoming the very best version of myself. I wanted to eat better. Hydrate better. Fuel better. Exercise more. Cross-train more.
The biggest surprise of all? Little by little, I started using inhaler less and less. Eventually, I no longer needed it at all. And in 2017, I ran two full marathons and never once used it.
Profound. That’s the only word that describes the affect running had on me. I started referring to myself as a runner. Transforming my belief system that I’d never be an athlete took time. The first few times I tested the words “I am a runner” on my tongue felt foreign. And because of how positive this transformation had been, I wanted other people to feel the same way too. How could I sit on something so profound and not share my story? In August of 2018, I became a Race Ambassador for the Kentucky Derby Marathon. I used that excuse to overshare on social media. People reached out, both friends and strangers, asking questions, wanting advice and told me what an inspiration I was.
And then I had a set back. In August of 2018, the very same month I found out I’d be a race ambassador, I started having trouble breathing again. Suddenly. Out of nowhere. Like someone flipped a switch. Every time I ran, I experienced shortness of breath and chest tightness. It baffled me. I dug out my inhaler and started using again. The weird thing was, my inhaler wasn’t doing the trick. Those symptoms started happening more and more, like when I’d walk up a flight of stairs or while I was sitting at my desk. I consulted with my doctor. She ordered a slew of tests but insurance would only cover blood work and an echo. Both tests revealed nothing. I was scared but I kept trying to run. I shortened my distances and slowed my pace. Nothing was helping and it was terrifying. I began to retreat and withdraw. I got in my own head. My anxiety flared.
In January 2019, the training program for Kentucky Derby Marathon kicked off. As a race ambassador, I was supposed to be joining training runs every Saturday. I was too embarrassed and scared to show up. I still boasted on social media about the race, the one that made me a marathoner in 2017. It’s easy to hide behind a keyboard.
I kept trying, kept slowing my pace, kept tweaking my nutrition, kept hydrating. I switched to interval running, thinking that by taking walking breaks, my lungs would cooperate. Nothing helped and I still had shortness of breath and chest tightness. What was happening to me? Too proud to back down, on 4/27/19 I showed up to run the Derby marathon. I slapped a smile on my face and had my inhaler in hand. I crossed the start line feeling good but at mile 3, I needed my inhaler. And again at mile 5. Mile 9. Mile 15. Mile 18. And mile 22. Suffice to say, I abused my rescue inhaler. Running a marathon is just as much physical as it is mental, and my mind took me to very dark places that day. Something was majorly wrong. I wanted to waive the white flag, take the DNF and go home. My husband and faithful cheerleader, kept rooting for me with his encouraging smile and “Run KJ” sign. It gave me something else to focus on and motivation to finish. He is the ONLY reason I crossed that finish line. I damn near snatched the medal out of the volunteers hand. A medal I’d been so excited about earning because as a race ambassador, I’d been a part of the medal reveal. I cried and told my cheerleader something was very wrong. The shortness of breath and chest tightness never went away. This time though, I had an elephant sitting on my chest.
As a lifelong asthmatic, you KNOW when it’s time to beef up your treatment, when an inhaler isn’t enough and you need a steroid shot or a nebulizer treatment or visit the ER. Or all 3. I felt like it was time for all 3. I shoved my medal in my purse and went straight to the ER. I explained the symptoms I’d had for 9 months. They immediately ran an EKG, drew blood and did a chest X-ray. Waiting an hour for the results felt like an eternity. The ER doctor said my blood results revealed my troponin levels were elevated and they were admitting me. Blink. Blink. Breathe. What? I’d never heard the word troponin in my life. I had no idea what that meant. A quick Google search will tell you, it’s a heart attack indicator. Talk about shock. Google will also tell you, prolonged exercise also causes those levels to increase. Well, Google, I'd say running a marathon falls under that category. The other anomaly was, my lungs checked out. None of the typical asthmatic markers were present but I still had shortness of breath and chest tightness.
For two days, they tried to figure it out and ran every test imaginable: a 24 hour heart monitor, EKGs, a CT scan, chest X-ray, blood work multiple times a day, an echo, a pulmonary function test. All the while, I’m laying in that hosptial bed staring at my purse with that damn medal staring back at me. Am I done running? All the test came back normal and all of the doctors threw up their hands and shrugged their shoulders. They started asking about my mental state. Was it all in my head?
FINALLY, on the second night, a pulmonologist came to see me. He sat down and listened, actually listened. He wanted to know everything, when it began, when it got worse, what I’d done for treatment. I vomited every bit of it while he patiently listened. At the end of my tale he asked me if I went through an abnormal amount of stress in August 2018. I said yes, I’d had a career change, shipped my daughter off to college and had been planning a major non-profit event. He said, I know what’s wrong. It’s not your heart or your lungs, it’s your stomach, acid relfux and anxiety.
I fell out of the bed. Not really. But a slight breeze would have done the trick.
My eyes turned into slivers.
Wait. What?
No. That’s so stupid.
I have not been stewing in this hospital for two days, only to have some silly diagnosis like that. He explained that he too was a runner, and asthmatic and had the same thing happen to him. Only it took years for his doctors to figure it out. He explained that when a person experiences a high amount of stress and anxiety, sometimes the body’s way of dealing with it is by overproducing stomach acid. In my case, the overproduction never stopped. Asthmatics have it worse, because when the acid travels up the esophagus and touches the lung nerves, your body thinks your having an asthma attack, but you’re really not. And that’s why none of my inhalers worked.
Well. That explains a lot.
It made sense, perfect blissful sense. All the pieces fit together. While I’m glad there’s nothing majorly wrong, I hated that something simple like acid reflux and anxiety caused the damage it did.
I felt so stupid and embarrassed, and completely and utterly defeated.
I took my purse and my stupid medal, picked up some meds and went home. That genius pulmonologist said to give the medication time and to give myself time, both physically and mentally. Two weeks. Well that worked for me because I needed time to lick my wounds, work on my pride, and decide if I wanted to keep running.
During those 9 months of symptoms, I’d thought about giving up running altogether. So many times those thoughts trickled in. And like a bad cold, they took root. In the world of running, having an injury take you out for 6-8 weeks is big, 3 months is huge, 9 months...is colossal. The unknown did strange things to my psyche and my anxiety. But as we’ve established, I am not a quitter and have been through far worse.
Enter SRTT. It stands for She Runs This Town, a running club for women. A tribe and a beacon of hope.
Backing up for just a second, in January 2019, a fellow Race Ambassador (Sherry), told me about SRTT and about how amazing and supportive and uplifting this group is. I think my eyebrows touched my hairline in disbelief. Sure, Sherry, if you say so. My brain said there's no way a force like that existed, and certainly not to the support level she described.
Curiosity got the better of me and I joined the SRTT Facebook group in January 2019. I watched, observed and stalked from the sidelines for 6 months. This group took talking about running to a whole new level. I watched as women posted about injuries and the support they got. I quietly learned about nutrition by reading what others posted. What works for some, didn’t work for others. They talked about pacing and intervals, speed work and hill repeats. A few asthmatic runners posted about their hurdles. They talked about the uglier side of running: poop, snot rockets, boob sweat, blisters, black toenails. Mostly though, I watched them lift each up and praise each other’s accomplishments in a very big, huge way. It was... exactly as Sherry described, if not more.
It was a group of women empowering each other through running.
Now, I’d been a solo runner since the very beginning. Yes, I’d run on a treadmill next to a friend, but always with earbuds in. I ran races with people, but it was like multiple solo runners doing a race side by side. We’d each plug in our music and zone out. We’d throw out a thumbs up or a few words occasionally, cross the finish line together, then go back to solo training runs.
So the very idea of running with other women without the barrier of music was intimidating. What do you talk about? What do you do? Is it awkward? I’m an awkward person. I mean, I’m about as socially awkward as they come.
But I found this SRTT group so incredibly inspiring.
So, I did it, I took a chance and showed up to a SRTT group run at Seneca Park in June 2019. The event description said it was for new members. It had been a month since the hospitalization and the medicine had done its job. I stopped having shortness of breath and chest tightness. I’d tested the waters on a handful of runs and amazingly enough had zero breathing issues. The mental damage was still there though. My anxiety about the group run was out of control. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of all these inspiring ladies. So beforehand, I ran a few solo miles in my own neighborhood.
I was a bundle of nerves when I walked up to the group. I saw my fellow race ambassador, Sherry! I knew 1 person! Yes! They were all standing in a circle, a symbol of inclusion and unity. And when I walked to the circle, I was instantly greeted with hellos and smiles. No one else knew me, but it didn’t matter, I was instantly accepted. No tryouts necessary. Do you know what that’s like for a person who was rejected for every sport? It was a complete shock.
We did introductions, which meant saying your name and admitting your pace. Ugh. Do I say what my pace is now? Or what it was before? Even though I’d been running without any complications, I was still embarrassed because my pace wasn’t what it used to be. Ultimately, I went with honesty and when it was my turn, I admitted I was super slow with a 12 minute mile pace. Several ladies chimed in and said that’s not slow, we’ll show you slow. They light-heartedly laughed and said they’d love to be that pace. They were ladies from the Turtle Club, a group within SRTT who have a slower pace. They’re treated just as equally as someone who has a Boston Qualifying pace, which is super fast for those of you who don’t know. Acceptance. I was so overwhelmed by so many emotions that I didn’t pay attention to others paces or names. After introductions, we were supposed to break off into groups of similar paces and run with those women. Pair up. Make a friend. That sounded easy enough, but god, my nerves! I didn’t really know what to do, so I just started running by myself.
As I was running on this unfamiliar 1.25 mile loop, I see Sherry approaching from the opposite direction. She knew what I went through and she said three simple words:
“You look strong”
Encouragement. Acceptance.
Women empowering women through running.
I damn near cried when she said those words. I had to stop and check my emotions. Get those under control. While I was stopped a new face came into view. Thank god she introduced herself. Stephanie. She said “come run with me, friend.” We talked, we laughed, it wasn’t awkward. It was easy and natural and effortless. We caught up with another new face, Beth, and ran with her. Every woman we passed in the opposite direction, they hollered words of encouragement or gave us high fives. We did the same.
I. Can’t. Even. With. These. Women.
What alternate universe have I entered. Groups like this don’t exist. Society says, it’s impossible.
I left that day feeling lighter than I had in years. I was hooked.
I kept my eyes peeled for more group runs, which were often. I kept showing up and they kept accepting me.
I met Jessica
And Karen
And Tara Jo
And Lisa
And Laura
And Olivia
And Eileen
And Leanne
And Dana
And Elizabeth
And Niki
And Krista
And Bethann
And Tiffany
And Sarah
And Sabine
And Cassidy
And Kelly
And Donna
And Kris
And Jennifer
And Janna
And Susan
And many, many more. So many more.
All of them are amazing women doing equally amazing things.
To think I almost missed out on knowing them makes my heart hurt, seriously hurt. But not in the “your troponin levels are elevated, you might be having a heart attack” way. God. Now I can laugh about it.
Using these women as inspiration, I ran more half marathons in Fall 2019 than I did the two previous years combined. After the Derby marathon, I said I’d never run another full again. But after finding this tribe, I knew that wouldn’t stick. I started training again for a November marathon, but this time, I trained with friends. I found a small posse within SRTT who was training for the same marathon. We did all of our distance training runs together. We laughed. We joked. We talked about race nutrition, and race hydration and all things marathon related. But we also talked about our childhoods, our families, our stories. We formed a bond that goes far beyond running. It was, by far, the best marathon experience I’d ever had. Hands down. Just 6 short months after my worst marathon experience.
So, if you think for one second, there isn’t something incredibly powerful about women empowering women through running, I’m here to tell you, you’re wrong.
It’s absolutely everything.
And THAT is exactly what 261 Fearless is doing, empowering women through running. Automatic acceptance. No tryouts necessary. But on a global level. Global.
