A few weeks back, a coworker invited me to run a 5k in Detroit. PM Environmental (my host company) offered a donation, allowing for two free entries to run. My coworker, Ashley, from the Lansing office drove 1.5 hours out to Detroit that gloomy morning just to run with me in this race. My roommate, Annie, and her Aunt Suzy also joined as we all set foot on the school bus shuttle that would take us to the starting line in Indian Village toward Detroit’s east side.

I remember feeling excited to run. Even through potential rain, the gloomy day did not bother me, as the temperature outside warmed throughout the morning. As the race time neared, Annie, Ashley, and I lined up toward the front of the pack, while Aunt Suzy joined the walkers toward the back. I knew Ashley would sprint swimmingly toward the finish line, as she works out several times a day as a triathlete (Go, Ashley!). I just wanted to keep up with Annie. We had been running every weekend at this point, so I was feeling fairly confident in my ability to make it through the three miles without having to slow down and walk.

The announcer sounded the race horn, initiating the pitter-patter of feet down the street. Some people sped ahead (Bye, Ashley!), while others maintained a steady pace the whole time. Annie and I moved swiftly in the beginning. We admired the beautiful early 1900s-era homes that lined the streets. The majority of homes, even the ones with boarded windows, stood tall and proud in the early morning sun. Residents sat on their porches and blasted music, cheering on all of the runners as they passed. I was feeling good, trying to take steady, deep breaths.

After awhile, I noticed Annie speeding up (or maybe I was beginning to slow down). The stately homes no longer lined the streets as we ran the course. Open land and run down homes grew more common. I looked to my left to hear an argument between a resident and a police officer. “I can see my house right there on the other side of this barrier! I see very few runners coming by at the moment, can you please just let me pass in my car? I am already late for work.” The officer did not budge, prompting the woman to speed off in the opposite direction.

At this point an excruciating side-ache took over my gut. I encouraged Annie to keep running, as I started to walk slowly down the street. For short increments of time between other runners passing me, I walked there alone, just me and the empty houses and open fields. I eventually came upon another police officer. She yelled some interesting statements at the runners that started to get me thinking about this experience of running through this neighborhood and about my overall experience in this city. “Welcome to Detroit! Keep an eye out on your run! Also, beware of stray dogs, they bite!”

The things I saw and heard during this 5k brought up so many implications that have been weighing on me for a few months now. What am I doing here? Is this city really coming back? What do the populations of black residents on their porches think of all the mostly white people running through their neighborhood? Why does the city have so many initiatives to take down homes instead of preserving them? Why is there so much cleared land out here with little to no new development? Why does this police officer think I have never been to Detroit? Why does my gut hurt so badly right now!?

I tried to start running again, as the piercing pain in my side grew more painful than earlier. I walked that last mile to the finish line only before Annie returned to hustle with me for the last bit. The finish line greeted all runners with food trucks, ice cream, and some games. People also had the option to go plant trees in some of the open fields where houses once stood.

As painful as that run was for me (physically and emotionally), I cannot help but think about the true champions, the native Detroiters who continue to stand strong every single day. Words cannot describe the pain they have experienced for generations, yet they remain here because their love for this city is unconditional. While the odds may still not be in their favor to this day, native Detroiters continue to navigate and to work hard to change broken and corrupt systems that only build barriers to sustainable solutions for a stronger Detroit. This love trumps everything and is the only force that can grow this city. I look forward to spending another year here in Detroit, learning more about this love and about how I fit into this complex story.