Monday Medicine, Mythology and Meaning: Walking With Pain: Lessons From Endorphins, Myth, and the Miles We Can’t Outrun

There’s a memory I always come back to—a younger version of myself, lacing up my shoes before dawn in Jackson, Wyoming. Back then, running was my escape. Fifteen miles wasn’t out of the question. I’d lose myself on winding trails, pushing my body past whatever it tried to tell me, waiting for that moment when pain would give way to the high—when endorphins would flood in, and I’d feel weightless, untouchable, almost flying above myself.

But I remember the start of those runs just as clearly. The first miles were heavy: my shins ached, my ankles protested, my feet felt like they were full of lead. Each step was a negotiation with pain. My solution? I’d grit my teeth and push harder, trying to outrun the discomfort until my body’s own medicine kicked in and numbed it all away.

It was during those lonely miles, deep in the elk refuge, that a line from Bob Marley would loop through my mind:
*“You’re running and you’re running and you’re running away,
You’re running and you’re running and you’re running away,
But you can’t run away from yourself.”*

At the time, I didn’t truly understand the lesson woven into those words. I figured if I just kept moving, kept running, I could leave the pain behind. But pain, whether physical or emotional, has a way of catching up to you—no matter how fast your feet move.

The Medicine Inside Us

Looking back, I realize how powerful our bodies are. Endorphins—our own built-in antidote—can lift our mood, soften pain, and even help us heal. They’re a gift, a kind of internal medicine cabinet. But with that gift comes a risk: the temptation to use it as a way to bypass what pain is trying to teach us. Sometimes, running through pain just means running past the real message.

Now, in my fifties, my perspective has changed. Pain isn’t just something to numb or escape. It’s a portal. Whether it’s the ache in a yoga pose that feels impossible, or the sting of a tough conversation, I’ve learned to sit with the discomfort. To breathe into it. To see what it’s trying to say. Pain, I’ve found, is a form of communication—an invitation, if we’re willing, to listen and learn.

A Lesson From Myth: Chiron, The Wounded Healer

This isn’t a new lesson. The Greeks told the story of Chiron, the wise centaur. Unlike his wild and reckless kin, Chiron was a healer, a mentor to heroes. But fate dealt him a cruel hand—a wound that would never heal. Instead of letting his pain consume him, Chiron let it teach him. He became the “wounded healer,” helping others precisely because he understood pain from the inside out.

Chiron’s story is a reminder: the point isn’t to erase pain, but to walk with it. To let it shape us into something more compassionate and wise.

Walking With Pain

We all have a bit of Chiron in us. Pain—body, heart, or mind—isn’t just a barrier. Sometimes it’s a guide, pointing us toward the lessons we need most. Sure, our bodies offer up endorphins and other ways to help us cope. But the deeper medicine comes when we stay present with the pain, listen to its story, and allow it to change us.

So if you’re hurting—physically, emotionally, or spiritually—don’t rush to numb it or run through it. Try walking with it. Ask what it wants to show you. Honor your own inner healer. Remember: pain is a portal, not a prison.

Want More?

If my story resonates with you, know that this is just a small taste of the deeper teachings I share. There’s so much more inside my Implement, Elevate, and Ascend Functional Medicine Training, as well as my Men’s Optimized Blueprint Training. The real journey begins when you stop running from yourself and start learning to walk with every part of who you are.

Ready to dive deeper? Check out the full training here or find the link in my bio.

Here’s to medicine, mythology, and meaningful Mondays.