What a Pride Walk and Thai Tea Taught Me About Recovery

This past Saturday, I walked the Davis Run/Walk for Equality. I didn’t run it this time—and honestly, that was a little hard to accept at first. But what I got instead was something unexpectedly powerful: a reminder that healing takes many forms, and that showing up is still something to be proud of.

The event started bright and early at Community Park, and while the high for the day was supposed to be in the 90s, the morning air was still cool, just right for a slow, steady walk. The route took us through downtown and into the UC Davis Arboretum, and a few hundred people turned out for it. Families, students, stroller squads, and people like me who are learning how to move differently than we used to.

One of the highlights for me wasn’t the walk itself, but who I walked beside. I found myself pacing alongside an older gentleman with a walker. We got to talking, and he mentioned he had knee surgery decades ago. I told him I’m in physical therapy now, post-injury, and trying to build my strength back up. He nodded like he understood exactly where I was coming from.

And maybe he did. It felt comforting, like a quiet glimpse into the future. Like, okay, maybe I’m not running miles right now, but there is life and movement and joy on the other side of recovery. Seeing someone who had been in my shoes still participating in local runs years later? That meant more to me than he probably realized.

This event wasn’t just about Pride, though it absolutely celebrated that too. It was also about honoring the resilience of people like Lawrence “Mikey” Partida, a long-distance runner and hate crime survivor whose story moved everyone there. Mikey shared how running helped him through months of physical therapy and pain after a brutal attack in 2013—and his speech was a reminder that reclaiming your strength is a radical, beautiful thing.

As we crossed the finish line, we were greeted with ice-cold Thai iced teas from Red 88 (a genius move, honestly). I snapped a few pictures, stretched out my hip flexors, popped a Tylenol, and headed straight to work. Because healing doesn’t mean stopping your life, it means adjusting, being patient, and still showing up, even when it looks different than it used to.

And on Saturday, showing up looked like a yellow shirt, a shared story with a stranger, and a new favorite emotional support beverage.