BY ANNA KOTTAKIS
This spring, I was about to start my Sunday long run when I realized I hadn’t charged my headphones the night before. I thought that 2-plus hours without a Glass Animals album or an audiobook would be mind-numbingly boring.
I try not to ever be bored. I keep intrusive memories associated with my PTSD at bay through a combination of a packed schedule and constant stimulation — podcasts in the shower, TV shows playing for “background noise” throughout the day, and, of course, headline scrolling.
But something strange happened that morning. While I ran, without anything to occupy my mind, a bright, jagged fragment of traumatic memory surfaced. But as my feet hit the earth in a steady rhythm, instead of hijacking my mind and body, the memory was pushed away by the rich sensory stimulation of a headphone-free run: the huff of my breath, the slosh of my hydration pack, the fabric hiss of my T-shirt against the strap of my vest — and, above all, the heavy beat of my feet, each step thrumming through me.
***
The experience I had while trotting the humid, hilly trails in an Iowa state park is, in many ways, the same one that psychologist Francine Shapiro had while on a walk in California in 1987. As disturbing thoughts and memories started to swell and swarm, she realized something: while walking, “the thoughts weren’t as bothersome,” she said later. She realized that the negative feelings — anxiety, guilt, fear, shame — that usually rushed in with an intrusive memory or thought simply weren’t there. It was as if that clamor was dampened by the steady, soothing rhythm of her alternating footsteps.
EMDR has evolved to include other forms of bilateral stimulation, like hand tapping or auditory sounds. Why not the rhythmic thumping of my feet on the hard-packed dirt, too?
Shapiro tried to replicate the effect of bilateral stimulation without walking by deliberately focusing on something that bothered her while moving her eyes side-to-side. It worked. She created a structure for the therapy, which would become known as Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, or EMDR. Today, EMDR is a common and effective treatment for trauma and PTSD, which neurodivergent individuals may be more likely to experience due to factors like social stigma, misunderstanding, and exclusion.
EMDR has evolved to include other forms of bilateral stimulation, like hand tapping or auditory sounds. Why not the rhythmic thumping of my feet on the hard-packed dirt, too?
***
PTSD, like neurodivergence, can cause hypersensitivity to sensory experiences. For me, a certain smell or taste or sound — the latter, especially — can trigger an intense “flash” of recall. At best, it’s a jarring and upsetting moment. At worst, a flashback can cause a panic attack or kick off hours of fixating on that traumatic moment, making normal activities (like paying attention to a biology lecture or driving) borderline impossible.
But while EMDR has been shown to reduce the frequency and intensity of intrusive thoughts and the anxiety associated with them, there’s no clear consensus on how it works.
The most well-studied theory is called “working memory taxation.” In layman’s terms: Your brain has a limited capacity for multitasking. If you’re focusing on moving your eyes or tapping, your brain has fewer resources to focus on the emotion of a distressing thought or memory.
It seems like a framework that could easily apply to trail running. Digging into my darkest memories never felt helpful when I was sitting in a therapist’s office or journaling at my desk. It felt, most of the time, like being coaxed towards a panic attack. But while sweating and scrambling around exposed tree roots and puddles, remembering felt manageable — a memory emerges, its sharp edges and vivid colors dulled. It recedes.
I run on.
***
Trail running, of course, is a lot more than a task that requires some of your brain’s resources. Running regulates levels of serotonin and dopamine — which explains why I find it easier to resist skin picking or scrolling Instagram when I get back from a long run. It also promotes the formation of new neurons and the maintenance of existing brain cells, and prompts a surge of endocannabinoids, which are linked to that ever-elusive runner’s high. Certainly, all of these might contribute to my ability to handle intrusive thoughts and memories better while I’m in motion.
This is not to mention the many ways that being in nature also affects our brains. The green spaces that I pant and pound through, 4 days a week, can improve attention span, reduce stress, and much, much more. A 1-hour walk in a natural environment has been shown to decrease activity in the amygdala — coincidentally, EMDR reduces activity in the same region.
A 1-hour walk in a natural environment has been shown to decrease activity in the amygdala — coincidentally, EMDR reduces activity in the same region.
By the same merit, there’s much more to EMDR than “give your brain something to do, then re-process those pesky traumatic memories.” Trail running isn’t a substitute for structured treatment, but it does seem possible that there might be some overlap in why both seem to work.
When I lace up my Altras, I’m going running, not preparing for a DIY PTSD treatment session. Most miles, there’s nothing magical — just sweat, sore muscles, and 1 step after another. But there are moments where I prove something to myself, too: the hill I can summit, slowly, without stopping. The things I can remember and then let go.
Sometimes I choose to leave my headphones at home.
BIO: Anna Kottakis is a writer based in Dubuque, Iowa. Her primary areas of interest are sports, culture, and health — and any stories that bring those topics together in surprising ways.
