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

How I got rid of Plantar Fasciitis... kinda of

Each morning for the last 13 weeks I have woken up, unstrapped my plantar boot, while attempting to not awaken Ben with the screeching sound of Velcro coming undone, stretch my toes, pull my heel down from my arch, and swing my legs out of bed, into my Hoka slides and taken my first step. Just getting out of bed has been a whole process for the last 3 months. The crappy days were the ones where I just kept the night boot on and crawled (yes crawled) to the bathroom so as not to put any pressure on my heal without it being warmed up. Big ups to Ben for taking all of the middle of the night wake ups that my kids had because as I alluded to above I couldn’t just pop out of bed and walk into the boys’ room to check on them.

Plantar fasciitis is painful. An injury I wish no one had to experience and one I really struggled to see the finish line. It literally feels like knives in the bottom of your feet every-time you put pressure on it. You want to rub out your arches and heel but at the same time don’t even think about touching my arch. 

It’s a condition that doesn’t make a lot of sense but I am going to attempt to make sense out of it for those struggling with it and who have been following my path.

Back in December I raced the marathon project in Phoenix Arizona. Well I tried to race it. My plantar had flared up for the first time in my career about three weeks earlier. I started to notice a slight stiffness and almost sharp nodule in my heel after some runs. I thought just typical wear ands tear from how hard I was training. So I lined up for the 10,000m at the sunset tour on December 5th. We were aiming to run the Olympic standard of 31:25 in the thick of heavy marathon training. With about eight laps to go I felt a change in my stride and an intense sensation in my heel. I grinded the last 2 miles hoping I could hold it together. In typical dramatic fashion (ask Ben, Ben, and Josh) I ran 31:24, just half a second under the Olympic standard. But then I could not walk. I tried to hobble a cool down but knew something was definitely wrong. The next morning I woke up and when I took my first step out of bed it felt a dagger in my foot. I ended up taking the next three days off and do everything possible to keep the momentum going and be ready to race the marathon in 12 days. It improved slightly with rest and every time I had treatment on my lower leg calf and ankle I had a tiny bit of relief in the heel. Ok we’re still on!

I made it 17 miles in the marathon before I began unraveling. I think my body was trying to compensate and not land on my heel so then up the chain my hip and glute stopped firing and became painful. I look back and believe not finishing that marathon was one of the best decisions I’ve made in my career. And I hate dropping out of races. It’s only the second one I’ve ever started and not finished. 

So what did I do?

• Rest

I began with rest because anytime you sustain any type of injury that should be your first course of action. Because I had trained through a marathon cycle, even though I didn’t finish the race, we committed to our typica] 2 weeks off. No running, no cross training, no core work, just OFF. I was still in immense pain after 2 weeks off, so I took another.. and another.. and another. I didn’t run for close to 5 weeks. And guess what it still wasn’t better. I was pissed and confused. The rest principle I prided myself on was not working.

Then what

• Treatment, strengthen, rehab

My first run was 2 miles. And it was awful. My heel hurt the entire time. I came home defeated and started doing that thing where you spiral with negative thoughts, projecting in the future, and basically write your own running obituary. Let me share with you a little secret. That never helps. So I told myself to get over it, stop with the pessimism, and start with action. I had chiropractic treatments with Dr. Wes Gregg of Hypo2 in Flagstaff, 3 times a week and John Ball, my chiro in Phoenix. They worked on loosening up my calf, unlocking my ankle, and up the chain to my adductor and hamstring. I was prescribed the following exercises:

• Ankle mobs (band around your talus joint, see picture below) and drive the knee forward creating a stretch in the front of your ankle

• Peroneal strengthening- using a band to resist you, point your foot down (dorsiflex) and out. You should feel your peroneals ( group of muscles that originate from fibula (lower leg bone) and for this reason, these are also known as fibularis muscles. All these muscles insert into the bones of the mid foot called tarsals and metatarsals, which are present between bones of the ankle and the toes) engage. Perform 2-3 sets of 8.

• Post tib eccentric band exercises. Google this!

• Glute med holds- lying on your side, raise your top leg and push it behind you until you feel you glute med ( butt muscle) turn on. Hold for 20-30 seconds. Repeat 3-5 times

• Calf wall stretches - these were really painful in the beginning and I barely had any range of motion.

• Toe presses into the ground with rolled towel- roll up a towel, place under your toes and with your heel on the ground, press your toe knuckles into the ground for 5 seconds and let go. Repeat 6-8 times.

• THE Toe Pro: a company started by Tom Michaud, recommended to me by John Ball and a tool I believe will help many suffering from PF. I bought one for $50, use it everyday. There’s a whole routine on their website with videos and articles to assist you. They are the experts not me! And Tom was kind enough to give any of my readers a 20% off code, just use STEPH at checkout.

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And the find the cause

Plantar is all about managing stress and load and discovering what went wrong in the first place to get you in this position. For me, I believe the quick transition from flats to spikes for my track 10k did me no favors. But there was also an underlying gait issue that my body was very efficient at going around and compensating for. I wasn’t using my toes as I should, wasn't pushing off with my big toe, and so my lower leg (calf, peroneal, post tib) got lazy and stopped working for me. Now I don’t expect everyone to dive this deep into their movement patterns and get nerdy scientific but you should feel what may not be working and try to target those weaknesses in your rehab routine.

And give it Time

This is the easiest advice to give and the hardest to take. I don’t mean time as in just time off. That was only 5 weeks for me. But since those 5 weeks, it has been another 7 weeks of patience. After my first run of 2 miles, I took 2 days off, then ran another 2 miles. I tried to run 6 miles a week later and couldn't. I had many 2 steps forward, 1 step back moments. That seems to be the cycle of PF. But I committed to the rehab, to wearing the night boot, to cold/heat contrast baths after runs, to putting on the blinders of what others were running and comparing. I stopped throwing pity parties for myself and channeled a better attitude. I controlled what I could. My sleep, my nutrition, my rehab, my stress, my mindset.

My plantar isn’t gone. But it’s trending in the right direction. Each week with more volume and intensity it’s less sore. How I felt after a 3 mile run 2 months ago is how I feel now after a 14 mile run. Now’s not the time to get complacent. Now’s the time to double down on all the right things and keep the momentum going. There’s no quick fix. No gimmicks. If you’re finding yourself in the cycle of PF, try some of the above. Rest until it’s tolerable to stress it with rehab, stress it with running very gradually, stress it with strengthening exercises for your calves, your toes, your glutes, wear shoes always until the pain is gone, heat it up when you wake up, take a short walk before you run, and give it time and patience. I got this, you got this, we got this.

Dream Big

Steph Bruce

Seize the Moment

My palms are clammy as I hold an ice cube in each fist to keep cool. I hear the loudspeaker with coach Ben’s voice reading off the men’s last names..” coming up on 3 laps to go.” I’m instantly back in the arena so familiar yet so unfamiliar because of the events of 2020. I stride out one final time, telling my stomach to calm down, and assessing how my cotton Grit socks feel inside my spikes. It’s been over a year since I’ve stepped onto a track to race. The date of the 2020 Olympic trials has come and gone. There was no chance to make the Olympic Team. There is no Olympics.

We are called to the line, Alice announces she will be pacing at 74 second per lap as long as she can. I get in position, crouching down, ready to pounce once the gun goes off. Does this race even mean anything? It means everything. It’s our first shot, our first opportunity. Perhaps a blue print for the future of professional racing and it safely forging ahead.

The last week we spent preparing for the trip to St. George, getting nasal swabbed for COIVD, accidentally twice for me, as they went up my left nostril, found it blocked, then had to retry my right nostril. The results come back negative. We are a green light to proceed. I pack my bags, prep the house, cook a few meals to leave for the boys and our sitter Jill. I’m leaving the boys, only for 2 days, but for the first time since February we are apart. It’s weird. On one hand it’s very exciting and on the other feels strange. The allure of travel and business trips is what I have always loved. This time feels different. We are all adjusting to a new normal. It’s masks on, limit contact with anyone new, and taking more precautions with a rapid finger prick test on site and temperature checks upon arrival. We are navigating the unknown but willing to do whatever is asked and needed for us to pave a path safely to compete.

I’m grateful. For the behind the scenes work Coach Ben and Jen, and Coach Artie have done to put on this meet. To my agent Josh Cox for securing KT Tape and Polar (special 20% off with code SHOWDOWN20) as sponsors and a prize purse. Thankful we have a tangible way to showcase some of the hard work we have been churning out over the past couple of months.

The starting gun goes off and I slot myself into the line of women like a seamless freight train carrying a cargo of fitness, churning around the track. Within the first minute I have dry mouth and think the effort is already higher than I would have liked and we’re only 400m in. I settle my body, and turn my brain off. As I often have worked on and tried to master over the years. Your mind can do you a disservice when you’re racing because your sensory perception does not match your fitness. Meaning I know I’m in great form, but the splits are telling me a different story. Within a matter of laps, I change my pre race expectations. You may not run a PR today, but you damn well better close the last 1000 like you have been preparing to do.

I hear Ben read the splits as I’m fully cognizant and aware. The stands are empty and only the sound of the loud speaker echoes the stadium. With 6 laps to go, without thinking I ease my way to the front and take the lead. Earlier in my career I was not confident in my kick and so I desperately tried to take the sting out of my competitors. It never worked. I pushed so hard in the last half of the race I was on empty when it came time to kick. I was passed in every single race in the last 400m, for years. Then one day I decided no more. I’m changing my narrative as I believe everyone has the ability to. “73.. the fastest lap of the race…” I hear on the loudspeaker. I’m trying to stretch the field but more importantly stretch myself. This may not be ideal conditions, it’s warm, it’s at 2700ft, it’s 8 am, but it’s a chance. To work on my instincts, my closing, my limits. To seize the moment. I don’t know how long I’ve been in the lead pushing, maybe 4 laps, maybe 5. As we approach 800m to go, Kellyn asserts herself to the front and I think “ok it’s GO time.” I attach myself to her back and try not to let any semblance of a gap form. My calves are lit up, my cadence quickens, and I know we are rolling now. We hit the backstretch with 300m to go, I’m up on my toes, arms pumping… “69 seconds for that last 400m.” The guys from our team are cheering, telling us to let it rip and make it hurt. I almost tear up because seeing my teammates (the Scotts twirling their arms willing you to go faster) care so deeply about these moments we’re going through is what this sport is all about. It’s what I miss the most. Doing it for the fans, for the crowd, for your teammates.

At USAs last year I fell off the leaders with 1200m to go. I’m still here with 100m to go. It’s a small victory, small progress. I attempt to sprint, pull up alongside Kellyn, but to no avail. She holds form and holds onto the victory. But she has pushed us to our limits. We closed our last mile in 4:47, seizing the moment. I have felt the thrill, the discomfort, and the reward of racing again. I don’t know what’s next. I don’t know when. But I’ll keep my head down, my heart open, my legs sharp, and my mind open to whatever opportunity we are given next.

Dream Big

Steph

Not just a running camp

Five years ago we had a vision. Could we invite a group of strangers to come train and live like a pro athlete for a few days. Could they experience our workouts, our strength sessions, our recovery tools, and become better runners in just 4 days? Well we’ve been hosting an annual adult running camp for the past 5 years in our hometown of Flagstaff, AZ. But let me tell you it’s become so much more than a running camp. I truly had no idea how transformative an experience such as Bruce Camp could have for so many people. I think about the people we’ve met, the stories we’ve heard, and the friendships that have been made. I think about how it’s more than just a running camp.

So what does camp look like? I can’t reveal all the secrets because if you’ve never attended before we have to leave a little bit to the imagination. On the first day everyone arrives, they check into the hotel, giddy, excited, and perhaps a little nervous. They think “am I going to be the slowest one?” Will I make new friends. Or this is way outside my comfort zone.”

We head to Buffalo Park for introductions and a short run. Ben debriefs everyone on the altitude and how it can slow you down significantly but it’s all about your own pace here at Bruce camp. We welcome everyone and give a sneak peak of what’s in store for the next 4 days. We ensure them they will laugh, maybe cry, be challenged, get sore, get pampered, feast on Picky Bars, Diablo Burger, Picky oats, Pizzicletta, and adult beverages.

Bruce Camp is undoubtedly the busiest 5 days we have every year. It’s also the most rewarding 5 days of each year. We coordinate massage and chiropractic appointments, fill up goodie bags, check hotel reservations, set up the NormaTec recovery lounge, and rides to and from the airport. Each year we have a great group of camp counselors to help us run the camp. Big shout out to our previous counselors David, Leah, Scott, Craig and to Dani, Rachel, Rachel, Courtney, Mia, Bob, and Ted for your endless support, running errands, and willingness to be part of camp.

We start off each day with a morning run on one of our beautiful dirt trails. Water bottles are filled, coffee is consumed, and we’re off to suck wind at 7000 ft. Ben sets up an aid station when campers stroll in, some for a minute, others to chat for 10 minutes. Breaks are not looked down upon here, they are encouraged. We refuel with overnight Picky Oats, leftover cookies, water and electrolytes.

Recovery is an integral part of camp. That’s how we as pros get better. By sleeping, refueling, and getting massage and chiropractic work. We set up our recovery lounge where spontaneous chats occur among the campers while they NormaTec. Here’s where I learn why they came. Some for the nerdy training advice that we gladly give out. Others and more dear to my heart are the stories of connection, longing, and maybe struggle. This is my area, this is what speaks to me. We have an impromptu womens’ session where we share post partum struggles, and cry, and laugh. This is why as a pro athlete I share my journey, because these connections, and these moments make it all worth it.

We try to bring in a new challenge each year, like a hill climb to our famous “guardrail challenge.” This challenge has nothing to do with the actual hill. It’s symbolic. Of you setting goals, just out of reach, hitting them, failing them, and setting them higher again and again. To me that’s how we progress as runners, as humans.

“The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.” Michalangelo”

One morning we head south and descend to the hills of red rock Sedona for a track session. It appears intimidating to some who have not stepped foot on a track in 10 years. But by the end of the drills session, the 400m repeat relay, campers are laughing, cheering, with hands on their knees from working hard, but no longer intimidated. They own this track and now they think “I’m going to hit up my local track when I return home.” We cram 45 people into Local Juicery for post run smoothies and recovery drinks. The temps are rising into the 80s and a soak in the ice cold Sedona creek is what we are all craving.

As camp winds down, I am concerned. Have I talked with everyone, made an impact, ticked all the boxes? I give myself some breathing room and realize the campers are creating their moments. They are seeking what they came here for. We are simply providing the atmosphere with our knowledge of training, nutrition, recovery, and the most important part: Transparency. Ben and I share our personal stories. I tell them how my father died while I was on a run as an 18 year old. How I went down one path, and my brother Jamie the other. How I was given a 2nd chance to stay in college when finances had run out. That my life feels like 2nd chances and I’m not gonna waste them. That’s what fuels my running career. To make the most out of every starting line and every race. To lean into the discomfort, those moments of a 10k, of a marathon because I choose it. I want to see where running can take me. And I hope others find that for themselves.

So you see we had a vision. To host an adult running camp where you could come live and train like a pro. No speed limits, No ability standards, open to everyone. You could witness what we do to reach the high levels we train and compete at. But along the way you’ll find we are all just people with our own stories, struggles, and triumphs. The more we share them, the more we connect. Those connections are the bonds that make people keep coming back. That and the endless dirt trails, the beauty of the Aspens, the beers, and the cheers. See you next time at Bruce Camp.

Dream Big

Steph Bruce

“Thank you for being so open and transparent and for giving us “regular Joe runners” a real honest look inside the lives of elite professional runners.

If part of your mission is to “share the journey”, then you guys knocked it out of the park.



Having the comradery with you guys and the other campers has given me new excitement about my running. I’m looking forward to the next year of running and I am also looking forward to returning to Bruce Camp.”

“This experience was way outside of my comfort zone from a social perspective, but a good growth experience. Meeting/interacting with new people is a challenge for me, especially in group settings. I’m leaving with an increased desire to continue finding experiences that push me to go outside my comfort zone.
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