Running Towards Healing and Forgiveness: My Revolutionary Act

By Bianca N. Haro-Villa (she/her)

My name is Bianca, and this is my story with running.

I developed a profound love for running in college. I ran right before an exam to ease my nerves. I ran when I was overwhelmed with life. I ran when I felt alone, when home felt too far away.

I ran.

Rain or shine. Early mornings to witness the sunrise, or late afternoons towards the sunset. I carried a pair of running shoes in my car, ready to run anywhere, anytime I could. I ran along the Mission Bay boardwalk, Seaport

Village, and my favorite place by far, Balboa Park. Running eased my body and cleared my mind.

You got this, Bianca. Breathe out all the negative thoughts and emotions. Breathe in new and positive energy. Come on, deep breaths, fill your body with fresh and cool air. Your mind is tired from studying, but your legs, heart, and lungs are strong. Push, push, run faster! Look at that sunrise. Mother Earth is beautiful. I miss Mom and Dad. Soon I will be in Mexico, just a few days till winter break. Dang, I forgot about this song. It’s an oldie but a goodie! “See you at the crossroads, crossroads, crossroads… and I’m gonna miss everybody…” I still have a lot of meal swipes left this semester. Oh yes, ima hit up Tony and Mark to come eat dinner at the SLP, yes! My middle school. Wow, how much I’ve grown. That younger version of myself is so proud, I just know it. I am so f****** ready for that final. Get to my dorm, shower, eat, and go ace that exam!

Now, as an adult, I run to escape.

I run to quiet my mind.

I run when I feel broken, to prove to myself I am whole, and that I can keep fighting.

I run to ease my anger.

I run to cope with grief.

I run to release the pain of losing my big brother Anthony to gun violence.

My brother passed away the Monday morning of November 14, 2022. He was 33 years young, an amazing life partner and father of three—two baby girls, ages 5 and 7, and a 9-year-old baby boy at the time.

Anthony is a loving son. When we got in trouble and mom sent us to our rooms, he’d be the first to write a letter of apology to mom. Mark and I would follow his lead, and because of his initial act of kindness, we’d be allowed to go outside to play again.

Anthony is a protective father. He will do anything and everything to provide for his children; he loves them dearly. Continuously shows it too, verbally or with hugs and kisses, never afraid to express it.   

Anthony is a kind brother. He goes to the gas station every time I ask him to, gets out of the car, pumps gas, and washes my windshield, all while I sit in the car being a passenger princess. When he’s had enough of my dirty car and the smell of coffee spills, he offers to wash it, and at the end, adds his favorite car fragrance, Black Ice.

Anthony is a gentle giant. His almost 6-foot stature and kind heart proved it. His laugh is contagious. His big brother jokes taught me to be ready to speak back, to defend myself. Without knowing it, he’s made me a fighter.

Since his transition, I have turned to running more than ever.

I run to cope with his absence, to release and redirect the emotions and thoughts I carry that, at times, are too overwhelming. To remind myself that no obstacle in life is harder than losing him.

But I have also made space during my runs to connect with him, to talk to him. Life is tough without you. It all still feels like a long nightmare, but I wake up and you’re gone. It’s real. Mom isn’t doing so well today, bro. Visit her, comfort her.

I ask him to give me signs that he is okay, at peace. ¿Cómo estás, hermano? Do not worry about the kids or Janet— Momma Bear, el Viejón, Uncle Mark, Uncle Hammy, and I are holding it down.

A sign that I am doing right by him. ¿Qué querías cumplir que no pudiste? Dame esa tarea a mí. I will try my best.

I ask him for guidance to help me parent his children the way he would want to. Did I do okay with the kids this weekend? How did you balance love, care, and discipline? Parenting is tough bro! You were so good at it.

And selfishly, I ask him to visit me.

Te extraño, bro. I got a student this semester named Anthony. Nothing like you, of course. Running my fifth half, this time in honor of you, I’m going to need a little extra help from you for this one. You’ll like this route, it’s in our hood, and the route passes your beloved Seaport Village. “I can’t breathe, waiting for the exhale, I toss my pain with my wishes in a wishing well,” this one is for you bro, I know you loved his music. A hill comin’ up, help me get through it. Mom dreamt with you the other night. Ayer Enrique te oyó cerca de la ventana, he heard your soft hoots. I know you and him would vibe. I love you, always and forever. Visit me.

Recently, I have also made space to run towards forgiveness, because the anger I carry is sickening, it’s heavy, it slows me down, it immobilizes me, and clouds my mind. In a world full of violence, I want to remain soft, gentle, kind—that is my personal revolutionary act.

And while that seems to be a long road, with many miles ahead, I keep running in hopes I can eventually forgive the person who harmed my brother. I have learned that anger and violence only create more anger and violence, so I turn to running to cope with his loss.

Every inhale, exhale, heartbeat, every step I take, is in honor of him, of all that he didn’t get to live or experience.

Every mile I complete, every race, is in honor of him.

I run on behalf of him.

Some days, my grief is heavier than my anger, and those days, I cannot bear to run.

For those days, I turn to the people who love me unconditionally, my parents, husband, sister circle, nieces and nephew, and honor my heart aching, the shortness of breath, the tears, because no amount of endorphins will suppress the agony of him not being physically with us.

I love you big bro. Visit me.

My name is Anthony, and this is my little sister’s story with running.

Author’s Note: A special thanks to my beloved amiga Arleen Alonso, the first person with whom I shared an iteration of this piece of writing. Her creative soul helped me bring to life my love for running and honor my brother’s spirit. Thank you to the Gente Cuaderno editors for such intentional, thoughtful, and graceful feedback. And to my readers, you are not alone. I hope this piece resonates and helps in your life journey. Join me in healing and running the streets of Pomona, where I currently reside.

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Bianca is the daughter of immigrant parents from Guadalajara, Jalisco. She was raised in Southeast San Diego and now resides in Pomona. She is currently an Assistant Professor of Sociology at California State Polytechnic University, Pomona. Her research, informed by the lived experiences of her brothers, focuses on educational inequity, race and gender, and the school-prison nexus. Bianca’s agenda is a lifelong commitment to centering the voices of youth who are often overlooked in research, policy, practice, and social justice efforts.