I have been seeing the 2016 trend all over my social media, and I am sure you all have too. When I look back at 2016 for myself, all I can think about is whether 2016 Jenna would be proud of the Jenna I am today.

And honestly, that answer brings me so much joy. I can say sincerely that she would be one hundred percent proud of the person I have become and the places I am seeing. I know myself well enough to know that I will always push forward. No matter how many dreams I conquer, I will keep dreaming. But it is important to look back sometimes and remind myself where it all started.

2016 is a tricky year for me. That year started what I thought was my one true love, running. My water skiing team had a great season the summer of 2016, but I also remember my coach getting mad at me for missing summer running camps because of water ski practices or shows. It was conflicting, because at the time I loved them both. I tried my best to make everything work. I followed her training plan, ran in the mornings, and went to ski practice in the evenings. I even remember going on an eight mile run after a water ski show with my dad until 11:30 at night because I was terrified of falling behind.

This year was not the worst year of my life in running. My freshman year was actually one of my strongest. My team placed second at state and I placed fourth individually. But that year also started what would become one of the hardest seasons of my life. Looking back now, I realize how controlling my coach was. Truthfully, I have always known how controlling my coach was, even when I did not yet have the words or the strength to name it. There are almost no photos of just me. I never needed the spotlight, but maybe one photo would have been nice for the future. I still remember my coach making my mom delete a Facebook post celebrating my running because it might make the other girls feel bad. A mother should be allowed to be proud of her child. I am who I am because of her.

I was pushed a lot in running. And I did grow a love for it. A big one. So big that it consumed me. It slowly took over my mental health. I wanted to push my body to failure almost every run. I did not understand the importance of rest days, eating enough, or taking care of my body. My parents tried, and I owe them everything for standing by me through all of it. But little did I know, running was slowly tearing me down.

After my freshman year, I was injured and could not run track. That is when everything changed. Being forced to stop felt unbearable. Running had become my identity, and without it, I did not know who I was. That summer was one of the darkest of my life. I was depressed enough that my mom planned a road trip just to try to lift my spirit. I was so miserable that I could not run that I thought about not even being there at all.

I remember my coach coming to my house to talk to me, but she talked over me instead of listening. I remember her meeting me by the church rock, trying to talk her own sense into me, not hearing what I needed. I still break down when people talk over me because of her. I remember missing a practice once because of my senior pictures and her yelling at me in front of the football team until I cried. I was terrified of disappointing her, even while my body and mind were falling apart.

I was starving myself. Choosing a burger over a salad disgusted me. I was all twig and bones because I thought that was what I needed to be to be the best. I thought that was the price I had to pay.

It is not easy to talk about this part of my life. I still think about what if things were different. What if I had finished my senior season or ran in college. But leaving running was one of the bravest things I have ever done. Not moving across the country at nineteen. Not moving across the world at twenty three. It was walking away from a sport in a town where sports were everything. A town that did not see what I was going through. A town where very few people stood by my side while I was battling mental exhaustion and a breaking body.

The summer I went abroad changed everything. Something clicked. I came back different and I did not know why. Senior year felt suffocating. I was trapped in a sport that consumed me every time I tried to participate in it. I knew deep down that if I wanted to be happy, I had to walk away. My body would not let me keep going. My mind stopped my muscles from running because it was done being consumed. So I did what I had to do. I quit.

Quitting was the scariest thing I had ever done. People thought I quit because someone was faster than me. Rumors spread. People looked at me differently. I still felt pressure to go out for more sports, but I knew I could not fall into that trap again. I had to follow my own dreams.

After Covid, I packed my bags and moved to Florida to start fresh. I missed birthdays, family moments, and time with people I love. But I can never thank my parents and my brother enough for supporting me. They were my rock. I would not be here without them.

So 2016 Jenna, this is my love letter to you. You were happy and strong, even when you did not realize what was coming. Your love for running was the beginning, not the end. It led you to follow your dreams, see the world, and become someone you never imagined.

Now I am writing this from Australia, ten years later, at twenty four years old. And I want you to know this.

I am so proud of you. I am proud of the girl who showed up every day even when she was exhausted. I am proud of the girl who loved something so deeply, even when it hurt her. I am proud of the girl who listened to her body when it finally said enough, even though walking away felt impossible.

You did not fail. You were brave. You chose yourself in a world that told you not to. You stepped away from a life that was breaking you and trusted that something better was waiting, even when you could not yet see it.

Because of you, I get to live this life. You made a life for yourself, not the life others wanted you to live. I get to travel the world, meet new people, love deeply, and keep learning who I am. I get to chase dreams without fear of being controlled. I get to choose peace. I get to grow.

Some people might call this growing up, but it is so much more than that. It is healing. It is becoming. It is finally breathing again.

So this is my love letter to you, 2016 Jenna. Thank you for surviving what you did not deserve. Thank you for being strong. Thank you for not giving up, even when it felt easier to disappear.

I promise you this. I will keep going. I will keep choosing myself. I will keep dreaming. And every step forward, every place I see, every version of me that comes next exists because you had the courage to walk away.

Thank you.