Savannah Southern Half and 5K: Running To Control the Monkey-Brain
Written by Riley Heath. Visuals by Riley Heath.
On the morning of Nov. 15, I’ll be able to call myself a three-time half marathoner. If you told me that back in January, I wouldn’t have believed you. In early September, my SCAD music professor told me about the Savannah Southern Half Marathon and got it on my radar. Dr. Emmy Burch, a multi-marathoner and renowned race pacer, is now my mentor in long-distance running. Shortly after hearing from her, my friend George asked me if I’d run it with him.
“You in?” he texted me one night, followed by a link to the Half and 5K race website.
“Oh, twist my arm,” I replied.
I sent the link to my best friend Ash who now is signed up to run the 5K race, and to my friend Hollis who lives down the street from me.
It was very clear going into fall quarter this year that I’m more booked than I’ve ever been. Between my upper-level classes, two SCAD club boards, my internship with the Savannah Book Festival (SBF), applying to master’s degree programs, working to get a narrative medicine magazine off the ground, and simply trying to stay alive and well, a half marathon training program seemed like an impossible addition.
I’ve unfortunately never been one to back down from a challenge.
Ash’s phone and mine go off simultaneously, cockadoodling their wake-up calls at a ripe 5:30 a.m. It’s Monday morning, meaning we must go running. I smack the snooze button the second it starts honking.
“Get up.” I hear my best friend groan from beside me.
I lie very still, pretending I’m asleep again.
“Get. Up.” Ash says.
I try to slow my breathing, really putting on a show.
Maybe she’s gone to get ready and she’ll go without me — I could sleep in for once, what a treat!
Next thing I know, I get a pillow to the head.
She sleeps over at my house every Sunday night so we can train before class together. I groan but get up, as I always inevitably do. It’s become my favorite part of Mondays after all, even if I’m a little sleepy.
I know that you, like many others, will probably have a hard time believing me when I say that I used to hate running. Ash and I were die-hard gym rats, but we’ve been converted to the cardio-bunny dark side. I feel like an imposter every day — like I’m not a “real runner,” whatever that means.
I’ve attached myself like a parasite to everyone at work, those within the SCAD writing department, Joe Schmo running down the street and to all those within a two block radius of my house who are into running. I wanted to know their secrets, but the truth is, this sport is always going to be hard in some capacity. I still feel intimidated every time I lace up my Novablasts. I’ve learned to love running, but still don’t quite believe I’m the runner everyone knows me to be.
Ash and I took up the sport originally as a side-quest challenge for ourselves back in 2024, but it stuck. I throw around the word “addicted” a lot when it comes to running, but it might be true. Johns Hopkins unpacked the concept of “runner’s high,” referring to the relaxed state you’re in during or post-run, but also revealed that there’s chemicals that keep you coming back. Endocannabinoids, they’re called; it’s essentially your body’s own version of weed, and the levels skyrocket when you run. They’re fabulous for your health, focus and performance in all aspects of your life. My advice: give the endocannabinoids a shot and get lost in the rush. Run, even if you’re scared to.
The sport has many physical health benefits, of course, but on the cognitive, mental and emotional level, its effect is profound. According to Harvard Health, running stimulates the prefrontal cortex and medial temporal cortex of your brain, which enlarges your hippocampus exponentially. In non-doctor mumbo-jumbo talk, this means that your brain is literally becoming bigger and better at learning, memorizing and functioning when you run regularly. Along with these performance improvements, your mood and sleep quality will rise while stress and anxiety levels drop drastically. I originally thought that running would take up too much time in my busy schedule; turns out, running might be the only reason I’m able to handle the load at all.
Dr. Burch once told me that, “We creatives sometimes have excess ‘energy,’ or ‘monkey-brain,’ and it needs something to focus that.” Running has become that thing for me — my method of finding control, my center or ‘touching grass.’ It’s no wonder that Ash, George, Hollis, Dr. Burch, my SBF colleague, my writing professor and I are all running the Savannah Southern Race. Each of us are creatives and hard workers in our own right, and running is our outlet. However, it’s not only a tool to help find control, accountability and discipline — it’s a community.
All of my favorite people will be there when I race in November. Friends that don’t like running have signed up to walk the 5K race, or have volunteered to be my personal cheerleading squad with signs and support along the way. I’m so grateful that I get to be a part of something so special and to celebrate this new event, being a Savannahian, completing a tough quarter and everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve. This race is a party I think many SCAD students should consider; we’re roughly one month out from race day, which is the perfect amount of time to begin a couch-to-5K training plan.
Every Monday morning when Ash and I run at Forsyth Park, we press START on our watches right beside Drayton Street where the inaugural Savannah Southern Half Marathon will begin. It’s dark out and the yellow lantern lights glow down on the sidewalk that I circumnavigate time and time again, and I imagine the beautiful sunrise that we’ll see when the timer starts at 7 a.m. on race day. Under the Spanish moss and looming live oak trees, I imagine what it will look like when the charming city I’ve been running in all this time will come together to celebrate this new race and all its local runners.
I think of the new friends I might meet that morning, and I hope that you, dear reader and future runner, are one of those people. My running buddies can be your running buddies, and I promise that everyone I’m bringing knows how to cheer really loud. I hope to see you at the start, and at the finish line, and I hope that you get out there and run in the meantime. At the very least, I’m rooting for you when you’re ready to take the first step and try.
