If you’ve ever seen the cross country team at school, you probably think we’re insane. Who voluntarily wakes up at 6 a.m. in the middle of August to go run six miles in the Texas heat? Who looks at a Saturday morning and thinks, “Yes, today is perfect for a long run”? Spoiler: us. The cross country kids.

But here’s the thing—cross country is not just about racing or times or even medals. At least for me, it’s been therapy disguised as a sport.

The Miles That Clear My Mind

People always talk about “runner’s high” like it’s this mythical unicorn feeling you get once every hundred years. I’m not going to lie, sometimes it is. But what I’ve found more often is something quieter, something steadier. The rhythm of running—foot, breath, foot, breath—forces your brain to let go of the chaos. You can’t spiral about APUSH essays or DECA deadlines when all you’re trying to do is survive the hill in front of you.

Running clears the mental clutter in the same way cleaning your room does. Except instead of folding laundry, you’re sweating buckets and wondering if your legs are still attached to your body.

Endorphins > Everything Else

Here’s the science side: when you run, your body releases endorphins, aka natural mood boosters. There’s actual neuroscience behind why running makes you feel good. Endorphins latch onto opioid receptors in your brain (yes, the same type of receptors involved in pain relief), creating this sense of calm and euphoria. Add in increased dopamine and serotonin, and suddenly your brain chemistry is giving you a free therapy session.

It’s kind of wild—something as simple as moving your body forward one step at a time can literally change your brain chemistry.

Cross Country = Built-In Community

Therapy isn’t always about being alone with your thoughts. Sometimes it’s about who’s next to you. Cross country is a weirdly beautiful mix of solitude and togetherness. You spend so many miles running in silence, but you’re surrounded by teammates who get it. They get the early mornings, the post-practice exhaustion, the smell of icy hot that lingers around us like cheap cologne.

There’s comfort in knowing you’re not suffering alone. I’ve had some of my most honest conversations mid-run, when we’re too tired to filter our words and too sweaty to care. Running breaks down walls in a way sitting at a desk never could.

The Hard Stuff

Okay, real talk: running is not always therapeutic. Some days, it feels like punishment. The sun is brutal, your shins hurt, and you’d rather be literally anywhere else. But that’s kind of the point. Cross country teaches you to sit with discomfort and keep moving anyway. That lesson transfers to everything—school, stress, life.

It’s not that running erases problems. It’s that it builds this quiet resilience: yes, this hurts, but I can do it anyway.

My Brain on Miles

I’ve noticed that after runs, I’m sharper. Homework feels less overwhelming. My anxiety isn’t buzzing so loud. Sleep actually comes easier. It’s like my brain got rinsed out, recharged, and reminded that the world isn’t ending just because I bombed a quiz or my calendar looks impossible.

Cross country might not be everyone’s therapy, but for me, it’s this moving meditation. The miles are messy, sweaty, and sometimes miserable, but they leave me better than they found me.

Takeaway

So yeah, cross country is a sport. But it’s also a brain hack, a coping mechanism, and occasionally a free therapy session. Every step, every mile, every early morning—it’s training for my body, sure, but more than that, it’s training for my mind.

Because when life feels overwhelming, sometimes the only thing to do is lace up, hit the pavement, and let the miles sort it out.