The Pivot

 Back in November a friend of mine sent me this message: “So I was listening to Serena Williams on a podcast and found the best language for you to describe this year…she talked about having an evolution away from professional tennis instead of retirement…I love the word evolution, I see it kind of like postpartum and not getting back to your body but going into a new one…you are evolving and it is beautiful. And that evolution isn't done yet! Have a great run today and I'm so proud of you…mainly for all the things you're doing in your life outside of running, but the running is pretty sick too…”

Thanks to her message I find myself evolving--without reason, or explanation, or making sense in every way. I sat here one year ago typing out a blog that scripted out my last year, what I believed to be my Grit Finale. See at the end of 2021, I had discovered a heart condition that I’ve had since birth--BAVD. My running felt like it was on a downward spiral. My mother had died, and I found myself re-evaluating everything in life. I lost my dad in 2002, when I was 18, and now my mom in 2021. At 38 I felt very adult and very alone. I tell you this for some context as to perhaps why I was driven to make the decision to retire. I was diagnosed with Bicuspid Aortic Valve Disease and without family history, or my parent’s advice, I thought maybe this whole running thing wasn’t right for me. Yet I had a successful trip to MedStar where my sports cardiologist, Dr. Ankit Shah, reassured me, “Your heart is doing beautifully. If you decide to retire it need not be because of your heart.” But I was still torn. My body hadn’t been serving me well and I thought these were the signs one might be nearing the end of a professional athletic career. In hindsight, perhaps it was simply that grief had not been serving me well. 

I launched into 2022 optimistic and relishing every opportunity to train, to be on a starting line. My workouts were consistent and many times I was knocking them out of the park. I ran a road mile PR at altitude of 4:47 in practice. At age 38? Each race I shared with my community of followers, and meet and greet runs, and friends and family came out to watch. What was this success I was having? Was it magic because I said it was my last everything? Or was this simply the athlete I still was and the cloud of grief from the year prior was lifting?

The rest of the year was action-packed, with a coaching shift from Ben to Alan and Jenna, a 12th-place finish at the Boston Marathon, 100-mile weeks, a 10k road pr, a trip to Australia for the Gold Coast Marathon, a NACAC 10,000m victory--followed by an epic dance party in the Bahamas like I was 24 again. It was filled with a National Title at the 10k road champs in Cow Harbor, beautiful articles, and videos, and stories written about me--highlighting my career. I capped off what felt like an amazing fall by finishing 13th-place at the NYC Marathon. Not the race of my dreams from a performance standpoint but so much love surrounding it. So I began to question. I began to feel guilty that maybe I had changed my mind. That I wasn’t sure I was ready to retire. But can I do that? I mean Coach Ben was writing a book on “my last marathon at NYC,” this would surely derail his work and vision? (But actually he pivoted beautifully and we’re really excited to release this book for a more intimate look into last year).

To those people and races, and agents and teammates and friends and competitors and family  -- I do owe, a genuine thank you for letting me play out 2022 as if it was my last,- and also for accepting that  -- after a period of deep reflection -- now I have had a change of heart. I am not ready to hang up my racing shoes.

 When you get to where I’m at in my career, the moments and victories are no longer just for you. They are for everyone in your corner. Yet my corner had just celebrated me. They had put a lot of emotional investment into me this last year.  But I feel that the fire was still lit. When I spoke of retiring from the sport in early 2022, a big factor I missed was wanting to leave this sport when the fire is out. Not necessarily when it makes sense in life, or to others, or even to myself. But when I don’t want to head out the door and train in 25 degree temps and freezing snow/sleet like my 16-miler last weekend. Or when I don’t want to feel sore from lifting 125 lb deadlifts that make my tendons and ligaments stronger and able to kick like crazy at the end of races. Or when I get to the last mile of our 3 x 3 mile workout and don’t think in my head, “Oh you wanna go right now? Let’s go!” So what does this mean?

It means I’m not going anywhere yet. With HOKAs still on my feet, NAZ Elite teammates by my side, and my family behind me, we’re gonna keep it rolling. My family has been everything in this process. We even sat at the dinner table a few weeks ago asking everyone’s opinion on changing course. How it affects Ben’s training, pacing, his goals in life, juggling household duties, traveling for the boys’ youth sports, growing our family, my heart, and much more.

I can’t say for certain what my goals or racing schedule will look like beyond my next race, which I’m thrilled to say is the USATF Cross Country Champs on January 19th. I wanna choose wisely in this pivot part of my career. It’s not he Grit Finale (P.S. if anyone who bought a Grit Finale sweatshirt wants a refund please reach out and I’ll gladly send one over:). I can say that I will continue writing the next chapter of my story. And I will continue to share my heart on my sleeve for those interested.

My hope is to always carve my own path, leave behind an imprint on this sport, where I made a meaningful difference and maybe gave people permission to chase the impossible, to shake things up, to not be afraid to pivot. I believe my desire to share myself authentically will always open me up to vulnerability, but I don’t know any other way to live. I guess I am just foolish enough, but maybe brave enough, to take you along with my dreams and goals, even if I don’t know how they may play out. So thank you for being here and listening. Here’s to the next chapter of my professional running career, and pivoting.

Steph Bruce

My Gritty Heart

I’m just going to cut to the chase and drop the punch line. I am retiring. This year. But not until the end of the year. How do you write the beginning of the end of something? A journey that has lasted the better part of my life, and changed my life, saved my life, brought meaning to my life, and allowed me to truly live my dream. There’s a bit of a story to this if you’d like to keep reading.

As I slipped on a hospital gown a million feelings rushed through my head. The echo tech placed a few patches on my chest, squeezed cool gel on the tool, and began my echocardiogram. He jokingly said my heart was so clear and beautiful he loved taking pictures of it. About 20 minutes in he asked, “Does your dad get echos?” I told him my father died 20 years ago so I have no idea if he did. In my head I was wondering why on earth did he ask that. So naturally the last half of my echocardiogram I felt a lump in my throat of, “What was he seeing on his screen?” This was a long 20 minutes to wait for the test to be concluded. Long coming from someone who runs marathons for a living.

I showed up to practice the next day doing my best to keep moving forward. Waiting for news. Coach Ben and I walked around the lush green sports fields after our usual drills and strides meet up and he could sense I was about to break. I had been carrying this news for a mere 24 hours, and my running career flashed through my eyes, my future, the boy’s future, my past, my potential. All of it. I kept waiting. I am thankful to coach Ben in that moment, along with all the moments we have worked together for the past 8 years. In that moment he just put his arm around me as if to say we will be fine.

About 5 days earlier I had just finished 15 x a mile with 1 minute rest with Kellyn where we averaged 5:32s with our 4th, 8th, and 12th repeat at 5:28, 5:22, 5:17. I needed this workout. The NYC Marathon was 4 1/2 weeks away and to be honest the past few months had been pretty crappy. I failed to make another Olympic Team and my mom passed away. Typically I am not the type of person who looks at events in their life and dwells on the low points. From a very young age, I’d guess 18 when my dad died I had two choices on how I could react to what life threw at me. Because there is power in positivity and perspective and seeing all the good that you do have in life. So when I went to see a cardiologist on October 6 in Flagstaff and he said, “We found on your echo that you have a congenital heart condition,” I thought, “Well that's something I wasn’t expecting to hear.” And my glass half full went out the window. I walked out of that appointment and I had no parents to call. So many questions and no one to answer them. It felt very scary. Like I had just discovered something new about my life and did not know what the ramifications would be. Receiving news that is unknown and scary about your health affects everyone differently. It’s important to respect that family, friends and strangers will all hear a diagnosis and have a hundred different opinions.. But all that truly matters is how you feel and how you sit with something that is your life.

So here’s the deal: I was diagnosed with a congenital heart condition called Bicuspid Aortic Valve disease (BAVD). It’s the most common congenital heart disease that affects people. I had no idea until two months ago, at age 37 that I had it. I feel very grateful that a series of things this year led me to go to the doctor, see Dr. Sarah Wyard, and ultimately have an ECHO recommended and that’s how I was diagnosed. None of the symptoms I was having had any correlation to BAVD, and that’s the confusing but also amazing part. I thought I was having physical manifestations of grief and trauma but nothing was showing up medically. The likelihood that some of how I felt in 2021 was stress induced from grief is pretty high in my estimation. But the gut punch was finding out about my heart.

For those curious on this congenital heart condition, let me explain BAVD in a nutshell:

The aortic valve separates the left lower heart chamber (left ventricle) and the body's main artery (aorta). Flaps of tissue (cusps) on the valve open and close with each heartbeat and make sure blood flows in the right direction. Usually the aortic valve has three cusps. A bicuspid valve has only two cusps. A bicuspid aortic valve may cause heart problems, including:

Backward flow of blood (aortic valve regurgitation). Sometimes, the bicuspid aortic valve doesn't close tightly, causing blood to flow backward. This is what I have going on. My ECHO said there are varying levels- mild, moderate, and severe. I have moderate aortic regurgitation. This is ultimately what my doctors will keep an eye on.
Going forward I will have an echo done every 6 months-1 year for the remainder of my life. This will monitor the valve and the regurgitation going on. When it gets to severe I will have to have heart surgery to repair my valve.

A few weeks ago I took a trip out to Washington DC and Baltimore to meet with an amazing team of doctors at MedStar Health. My agent and friend Josh Cox whom I am forever bound to for all his support and help guiding my career, introduced me to Sean Huffman, Vice President of MedStar Sports Medicine. Sean and Tashera helped plan and coordinate my visit to see Sports Cardiologist Dr. Ankit Shah, Dr. Matt Sedgley, and Dr. Josh Billings. I decided to make this as much of a meaningful trip as possible so I brought Hudson, my 6 year old with me and we toured Washington DC seeing all the sights before my friend/mentor Larry ( who works with Josh and Carrie of Boom Management) picked us up in DC. I then began the emotional but thorough 48 hours of testing. Larry watched and hung out with Hudson while I had a 75 minute heart MRI with contrast, an EKG, a cardiac pulmonary stress test, an appointment with Dr. Shah, a gait analysis with Dr. Josh Billings and Dr. Matt Sedgely, and a bio patch stuck on my chest for a two week heart monitoring. After meeting with Dr. Ankit Shah and Dr. Matt Sedgely who reviewed all of my scans, my MRI, my EKGs, my Eco, and the cardiac treadmill stress test the doctors felt 100% certain there are no imminent dangers or risk to me continuing to train and race at the highest level and do what I do for a living at this moment and in the near future. What a gift they gave me. Reassurance and ease. This team of doctors I will forever be indebted to.

Dr. Matt Sedgley and Dr. Josh Billings of MedStar

All this being said, my plan is for 2022 to be my last competitive year as a professional runner with my biggest supporters--HOKA NAZ Elite. I will be retiring at the end of 2022. I feel right about this decision as discovering this about my heart enabled me to gain a deeper perspective on my life and what I want from it.  I had envisioned making it to 1 more Olympic cycle and trying for 2024 but life happens when you're busy making other plans. I think the most difficult part of this announcement as professional athlete is that I am finally giving up on my dream of making an Olympic Team. Do I think I would have a shot in 2024, absolutely. Would many believe not a chance, absolutely. Our family wants to grow and I am creeping towards my forties and the possibility of more children and a heart surgery one day in my life pushed me towards this decision.

I would however like to go out with a bang. So 2022 will be called The Grit Finale, a year of training and racing all of my LAST races. My LAST National Championships, my LAST track races, my LAST marathons. In typical Steph fashion I plan to bring the sport and fans along with me. The creative team of Rabbit Wolf Creative, Ryan Sterner and Stephen Kersh will be following me and documenting the year. We plan to release videos on my youtube channel along the way. We are looking to coordinate pre-race group runs at many of my races and host post-race get-togethers. Because so many professional runners just fade out, have an injury, hang out and just quietly leave the sport we don’t get to celebrate what they did...what they poured themselves into...the impact they had. Think about many of the NFL or MLB players who you hear about their retirement and maybe wish you could have seen them play one last time. Well that’s what I’m hoping to do here. If you’ve followed my career in any capacity and feel like I somehow made a difference or impact, try to come to my last races. Join our pre race runs or post race celebrations. Be part of this Grit Finale with me. This is a sport I’ve given 15 years to so I’d like to give back and go out with a bang.

Because let’s celebrate being here and being together and for me personally, leaving this sport better than when I got here. 

If I’m being honest this news sat with Ben and I very hard and strangely over the past few months trying to figure out what it really means for us. It doesn't feel like I have an illness at all so we don't like to think of it that way and so we are not living with worry or fear. In fact we are just trying to live our lives to the fullest. Ben I am so beyond thankful for you in my life and for Riley and Hudson to witness what we share. Walking and running through this crazy life with you makes it all worth it. Finally, thank you to all my support crew, family, the Rothsteins, the Bruces, friends Claire, Steph, Anna, Nicole and Jeff, fan girls and boys (ha), HOKA, NAZ Elite teammates, Coach Ben and Jen, Jenna, Josh and Carrie, Larry, Mike and Theresa, Wes and AJ, JB, Shea and Olivia, Pro Compression, Picky Bars, Picky Crew (Lauren, Jesse, Sarah, Julia) Laird, Rudy Project, Final Surge, our Running with the Bruces athletes, my G& G leaders, our Grit and Growth community, and the entire running community. I would not have come this far without all of you in my corner. But we’re not done yet, we have this whole Gritty Year!

Love Steph Bruce

Holding Space

Each week I pour some leftover coffee over ice, pull up to my notebook filled, messy paper desk and attempt to write. “Get that blog up by Sunday, Steph. You started this. You finish it.” I hate committing to a thing and not following through. Because someone is always counting on you.

The pen hits the paper… Last week hit me hard… How do you deal with 4 year old tantrums and defiance… I feel like I’m in the best shape of my life… I feel guilty for success… But I want to keep the pressure on and keep excelling… My marriage is rocking right now. So I begin each stream of consciousness and then just as quickly hit delete, delete. Criticizing my thoughts, the words that hit the paper, and so I hit a roadblock. This is blogging. This is writing. This is being committing to something, attempting to follow through, getting a lump in your throat, and then still hitting POST.

I lost my voice a bit the last few weeks. As you can imagine things seem to keep taking precedence over other things. Rightfully so. My Strava segments aren’t earth shattering. My post partum journey seems without obstacles now. The world is in a global pandemic. Black communities are still facing injustice, police brutality, and simply not being seen and heard. Who gives a shit about my time trials, internal mental battles, mom guilt and even more my happiness? But it does matter. Those are my truths. And the truth is I’m loving life right now. I wake up and the sun has beaten me in rising. The smell of freshly brewed coffee offers possibility to the day. What am I going to conquer today? I am still pursuing every goal, every chance to get stronger and fitter, and test myself for those few hours a day I committed to years ago. The hours that I spent many months and years of prehab, rehab, lifting, stretching, getting treatment. All the things. All the resources, using them. The belief that HOKA and NAZ Elite had in me and continue to have in me. That matters. Because running is what shapes my life and gives me purpose. That’s something to hold on to. I’ve met the most amazing people in running. I’ve met my husband. I’ve gotten through my mom’s breast cancer and my father’s death through running.

I digress. As usual. Because my thoughts are all over the place. My voice doesn’t seem needed at times and yet it’s crucial at other times. Is my blog a waste or meaningful? Some weeks I sit down and it flows. The inspiration is pouring out of me. Other days I can’t find the right words. EVER. Yet I committed to this. To story telling. Whenever and whatever that may be.

In this moment, when I sat down to write I’m content and quite honestly very filled with purpose. I’m making the most of heath and opportunity. And also I’m feeling guilty about it. Guilty because I have friends who are injured and would give anything to run. I have friends having babies and friends trying their hardest to get pregnant. Friends working multiple jobs to get by and friends unsure if their running contract will be renewed in 2021. So how do you exist in all the goodness of your life knowing what others don’t have or the hardships they are facing? I was fortunate to have a talk with a friend a few weeks ago. A new friend. A friend who has changed my perspective, opened my eyes, and whom I have learned so much from in just a few shorts months. The friend told me to hold space. Hold space for both. For your joys, success, accomplishments, things that light up your life. For the struggle of others, empathy for others, and taking action when you are called upon to. Hold space for both truths in your life. Don’t apologize or feel guilt for your happiness, your work ethic, your ability to move the needle in whatever capacity you can. People need people. In every space. Your success need not come from the failure of another. So if you’re shying away from sharing your new book, your goal for 2021, your new house project, writing, blogging, launching a new business, don’t. We still need inspiration. We still need humor. We still need motivation. I wanna know how my fellow professional runners are training. And my fellow athletes using their platforms for good and change. And watch stories of bravery. I wanna hear from moms who are getting their ass kicked by their kids or criticizing their post partum stomachs and losing confidence. I wanna hear from my friend who just wants to get pregnant but can’t. I wanna share in the joy and the pain. Hold space for it all.

And even as I press post for this blog, the lump in my throat is always there. Some will read my words and think “this woman is way off the mark, her blogs are empty.” Some may read it and find a little light or fire they needed. And for those who read it and does ignite something in them, that’s reason enough to keeping hitting POST.

Dream Big

Steph Bruce

The Words of Gwen Berry

Gwen Berry: Gold Medalist at 2014 Pan American Sports Festival. 2019 Pan American Games Champion. US Olympian in Hammer Throw

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS OPEN LETTER FROM GWEN BERRY.