Moving to Arizona for an eight-year dual-degree MD/PhD program was one of the biggest, and reflecting back, best decisions I had ever made. Though at the time, it truly felt like the scariest commitment of my life. I feared the bundle of unknowns that came packaged together all at once – my first time on the West Coast, my first time leaving my family and friends behind not only across the country but another time zone, my first time experiencing dry arid heat, and my first time in medical school surrounded by strangers.
I decided to embrace the changes that came with the move, treating each one as a new experience I get to have. I was excited to have the opportunity to start a graduate education. I made new friends who became my only ‘family’ I could call past 8 p.m. MST (11 p.m. EST back home). I experienced the range of the desert weathers and lessons that came with them, like stacking sandbags at my front door during monsoons, shopping for proper window shades to protect from the 115 degrees in the summer, and unpacking my winter clothes for the negative temperatures when driving to the mountains. I learned to watch out for rattlesnakes, coyotes, scorpions and gila monsters at night. I quickly learned the stray dog I chased after to bring to an animal shelter was, in fact, a wild ‘javelina’ and that any bad day can be fixed with a frozen Mangonada and a Sonoran hotdog.
One new opportunity that takes a special place in my heart is being able to enjoy Tucson’s unbeatable mountain ranges. It has been four years and counting since my move here, and not a sunset goes by where I won’t pull my car over to stare at the beautiful mountains or take a quick photo in awe. Beginning in my undergraduate years, running became an easy, accessible stress-relief hobby that allowed me to embrace my body’s abilities, take a breather from any problem that was occupying my mind, and remind my ‘type A’ personality to appreciate my previous self as my only competition. As soon as I learned about trail running, a way to combine these two joys – Tucson’s breathtaking mountains and running – I joined two groups: The Trail Sisters of Tucson (TST) and the Women of the Sonoran (WOTS).
A Humbling Lesson in Kindness
To say the least, my first time trail running with TST was enlightening, humbling, and memorable (for everyone on that run). I woke up at 4 a.m. that morning to meet the sisters before sunrise at the trailhead, excited and perhaps a tad overconfident. Outfitted with two mere 8oz bottles of water, I joined this team of experienced strong women equipped with multi-liter water vests, hats, sunblock and electrolyte packs, ready to take on 10 miles of rugged terrain. During roll call, the pack leader asked me with deep concern evident on her face, “Is that all the water you got on you, Hannah?” to which I confidently let her know, “Oh yeah I run outside all the time, and never even bring water!” (Note: this is what one can say if you want to stick out like a sore thumb that you’re the newbie from the East Coast new to distance trail running.)
As I ran with the sisters, I was overjoyed to meet new folks from my new home of all backgrounds, ages, careers and stories now together in the same city. Perhaps from the camaraderie, or maybe distracted by the spectacular view of the mountains, I decided to push an extra mile and a half beyond the halfway mark before turning around. Little did I know at the time that in the next hour, this decision had me wondering if it was feasible to fly emergency helicopters out to this trail … asking for a “friend,” of course. Around mile seven, the reality of my lack of preparedness set in. I had already run out of water by mile six and now, with my calves cramped, thighs shaking, vision blurred, and breathing labored, each step became heavier as I struggled to keep up with the group and maintain my composure.
Note – ‘heat exhaustion’ is a phenomenon commonly experienced by unprepared non-Arizona native individuals who cockily take on strenuous activities in hot arid novel climates. Perhaps it was how I began to trail off behind the group or maybe the heinous labored breathing noises that alerted her, but one of the trail sisters, Anna, noticed my distress and ran to my rescue. A few more sisters gathered, offering me magnesium and sharing some shade. With kindness that would leave a lasting impression, and extra water she generously shared, Anna paced the remaining miles with me, non-complaining, smiling and chatting the whole way, compromising her run to ensure my safety and well-being.
Over one year later, I sit on my bed, finishing the book Congratulations, By the Way, a convocation address to the Class of 2013 Syracuse University graduates by Professor George Saunders. In the speech, he emphasizes one key wisdom to impart to the graduates: “What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.” One person immediately came to mind. Although being on that trail at that moment was one of the most scared I had felt since moving, I look back on that day as one of my fondest memories. Anna’s selfless act of kindness to me, a complete stranger, saved my life that day and will always resonate with me as a profound lesson on how our actions leave lasting impressions on those around us.
Since then, I have been able to run with Anna through TST a few more times and learn about who she is, what her joys and values are, and who her loved ones are that she shares these with. But the first and foremost thing I will forever remember about Anna is how she made me feel and who she is to me – kind. My first trail run was more than a physical challenge – it taught me many important values, especially that even in a person’s most vulnerable state, we will forever recall the acts of kindness around us. Anna could have gotten frustrated or annoyed at my lack of preparedness and the inconvenience. She instead chose empathy and patience.
As I prepare to return to my clinical training soon, I am reminded that patients come to the hospital in their most vulnerable state – hurt, broken, frustrated and scared. It may be easy to let my tiredness take over my emotions, feel anger and frustration when a case is taking too long as the Anki cards and UWorld questions still remain waiting for me at home or my family members’ bedtimes pass by the time I reach home, leaving me without a phone call. In those moments, I hope to recall upon Anna during my own vulnerability to remind myself to be kind and patient to strangers in their times of need. I may not remember every flashcard or practice question or the little extra sleep I got that night for going home early, but to the stranger, they may forever recall how I made them feel and how much kindness I showed them when they needed it.
And another lesson learned: bring PLENTY of water on trail runs! P.S. – No one please forward this article to my dad about how I almost died on a trail run across the country!
