How I Became a Runner

A Sunday long run along the Charles River in Boston

By Sophia Szokolay 

August 2026 

When I was twelve years old and attending my first summer music camp, my violin teacher would jokingly ask why I was always running: running from the practice room to the dining hall, running down to the lake for recreation hour, running from one activity to the next. I could never explain it; it felt compulsive–I had to keep moving. 

In a way, I’d always recognized the importance of movement–memories of both practicing the violin and running around the playground defined my childhood in equal measure. Music gave me a voice to express myself; running made me feel free. I’ve always been drawn to activities that made me feel confident and energized. Perhaps it is surprising that it took me nearly a decade more to formalize a running practice.

The summer before my senior year of college, I attended a music program in Taos Ski Valley, New Mexico. One of the violin faculty members, Kris, was an experienced runner who had recently qualified for his first Boston Marathon. Determined to keep the music students active and help us acclimate to the 9,000ft of altitude, Kris led us through running warm ups, hill sprints, and encouraged us to explore the mountains surrounding the valley. I spent eight weeks vigorously studying music, hiking at altitude, and rehearsing for a big concert weekend that coincided with the Taos Up & Over 10K trail race. Seeing my enthusiasm for hiking, including a solo summit of Wheeler Peak, the highest point in New Mexico, Kris encouraged me to enter the race. 

Taos Ski Valley, NM

I signed up and showed up with more determination than experience. My fitness at the time wasn't strong enough to run steep ascents, so I power-hiked up and flew down the mountain. I finished third in my age group and took home a small cash prize. 

From the moment I realised I was capable of difficult things I never imagined doing, I was hooked. It made me believe that the human potential is limitless. It is a privilege to reach the boundaries of your abilities and push beyond them. Those boundaries are not roadblocks; they are invitations to discover what lies beyond. Running showed me that I could pursue new challenges and find satisfaction in the process. 

I also recognized that racing and performing concerts shared similarities. Both demand discipline and resilience in preparation and one’s consistent private practice, coupled with a desire to perform or test yourself publicly. My favorite parts of race day are analogous to some of my favorite aspects of musical performance: the spectators cheering you on and the feeling that your effort might inspire someone.

Warming up before performing in Newport, RI

But I’ve also found myself enriched by each pursuit’s difference from the other. I never run with headphones because there is usually music playing in my head; whatever music I’m practicing that day. And this symbiosis works the other way, too–while completing my doctoral dissertation in 2025, running became my refuge. My body rested while I typed away on my computer, and my mind rested while I logged the miles. And now, as a professional musician, I spend a lot of time on stage and on tour – running keeps me grounded and provides a meditative respite. One pursuit sustains the other. 

Since my formative summer at Taos, I’ve run seven marathons, and each one has been a personal best. Chasing another PR this fall in Chicago is more than a number, it’s a reward for consistency and commitment to the practice. It’s a reminder I carry into the practice room and onto stage – that a successful performance is built not on a single concert but on years of effort and experience, and a love for the process. Every PR reminds me that today’s limits are tomorrow’s start line.

Photography by William Chen and Tracksmith Boston