Running Reminds Me I'm Alive

A little inspiration can carry a runner a long way. When we need a quick hit, Instagram usually does the job. For something deeper—something that endures—we turn to history’s thinkers.

Channeling the stoics, Albert Einstein once said, "Adversity introduces a man to himself." Marguerite of Navarre, the Renaissance queen, put it even sharper: "There is no pain greater than not being able to find joy in suffering."

At Running Weather, we think a lot about what it means to embrace discomfort—not just in running, but in life. Our favorite stories are the ones where adversity is not just endured, but befriended.

That’s why we caught up with Sekou Carradine. Diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in his early thirties, Sekou has since built a life that refuses easy definitions—runner, triathlete, actor, filmmaker, father, creative consultant, founder of We Have MS, a platform born from personal struggle but built for everyone navigating reinvention.

We sat down to talk about sport, selfhood, transformation—and what it means to say thank you to the thing that almost broke you. Don’t miss the video at the end!

Q: Sekou, you weren’t always a runner. How did your athletic journey begin?

Sekou: Growing up in Boston, I was never that kid who laced up to run just for running’s sake. I played team sports—football, lacrosse, basketball. That’s where my identity lived. Running was a means to an end. It was about getting in shape for the season, not the sport itself. It was sprints, laps, hills. Great for conditioning, but I never thought of running as a standalone thing.

It wasn’t until much later that running became something else. Something I needed. I had a hip surgery that took away my lateral movement, and running—just straight ahead—was the only thing that still felt safe. It was the only thing I could really do. So I did it. But even then, I didn’t love it.

I only started to love running recently.

Q: Can you tell us about your life before the MS diagnosis?

Sekou: For sure. Like I said, I’ve always been into athletics. I played basketball for a spell in college. Then, after college, I got scouted on Newbury Street in Boston and ended up modeling in Europe. Big campaigns—Abercrombie & Fitch, Kenneth Cole, Brooks Brothers. I didn’t even know until recently that I was the first Black male model for some of those brands. At the time, I was just trying to make it work. I was getting well-known in the industry, but that meant navigating a lot of challenges related to image, expectations, race, identity. I played the game well, though. I brought that athlete’s mindset to the industry. But I was also getting lost in it. I wasn’t grounded. And then the MS diagnosis hit—and it all stopped.

Q: How did your MS diagnosis shift your relationship with movement—and with yourself?

Sekou: The diagnosis was a full stop. I didn’t even recognize my body. There was a point where I couldn’t walk. I was using a walker. I went from being someone who was traveling the world as a model, living in Europe, shooting campaigns, to someone who couldn’t even stand on their own.

And I hid it. That was my instinct—to isolate. I didn’t tell people. I tried to tough it out like I had with everything else in life, but it didn’t work this time. I fell into a deep depression. I was smoking, drinking, self-destructing. I’d wake up with this emptiness and no purpose. I wasn’t suicidal, but I was disappearing. I was living like I didn’t care whether I made it or not.

Q: What changed? What pulled you out of that place?

Sekou: I was living in Harlem, just off 119th and Madison, right by Marcus Garvey Park. The neighborhood guys, the ones I’d shoot hoops with, they noticed when I disappeared. Word got around about my condition. One day they just showed up at my door and buzzed up. They said, “Yo, where’s Sekou?” And then they physically carried me outside.

These are guys with real histories—some of them had done time, seen things, been through hell—but they became my lifeline. They trained me in the park every day. They wouldn’t take no for an answer. They reminded me I was still strong, still in the game. That moment—being lifted up, literally, by my community—it changed me. It brought me back. Those guys were in the news recently, too.

Q: So that was the moment that got you moving again. Where did endurance sport come in?

Sekou: Endurance came slowly. At first, I could barely walk to the corner. But I started running again because it was something I could still do. I didn’t have money for fancy gym memberships or a bike setup—just my shoes. Running is freedom like that. It costs nothing. You just need your feet and your will.

But it became more than just physical. Running became this honest space. There’s no faking it. It gives you true feedback. If you’re not training, it’ll show. If you’re lying to yourself, your body will let you know. It’s like MS in that way—it tells the truth whether you want to hear it or not.

Q: Let’s talk about acceptance. You’ve described MS as a friend, even as a teacher. How did you get there?

Sekou: At first, MS was the enemy. I hated it. I cursed it. But then I did this exercise with a life coach. She asked me to write a letter to MS. At first it was like, “Fuck you, you ruined my life.” But the more I wrote, the more it changed in my mind. By the end, the letter said, “Thank you. I love you. You’re my friend.”

That was the turning point. I stopped seeing MS as something to fight and started seeing it as something to understand. MS is now my quarterback. It tells me how to train, how to rest, how to love. It informs everything I do. Accepting it doesn’t mean giving up—it means knowing the rules of the game so you can win.

Q: You’re the founder of We Have MS. What is it, and what led you to create it?

Sekou: We Have MS started as a personal blog—just a place to put thoughts, resources, things I was learning as I navigated life with the disease. But the name says everything: we. Not I. This thing doesn’t just affect the person diagnosed. It affects everyone around them—friends, family, partners. I made the choice that if you’re in my life, you have MS, too. You need to know what it is, how it works, how to support someone living with it.

Now it’s a community and a platform. I use it to help others find resources, get real answers, and connect with people who understand the journey. I’ve become a case manager of sorts for others—answering DMs, getting people the information their doctors won’t give them. I’m trying to turn my survival into a service.

Q: What would you say to someone newly diagnosed with MS who wants to keep moving, or maybe even start running?

Sekou: First thing I’d say is: don’t isolate. Don’t pretend you’re fine if you’re not. There are stages—shock, denial, depression—and you’ll go through all of them. But you don’t have to stay stuck. Talk to someone who gets it. Build a team. Even if it’s just one person.

And when it comes to movement—don’t just do something because you’re told it’s good for you. Do something because you love it. Whether it’s swimming, dancing, fencing, triathlon, whatever. You’ve got to love it, or you won’t stick with it. I love the suck. I love the hard stuff. It reminds me I’m alive.

Q: What’s next for you? In sport, life, everything.

Sekou: I’m doing everything. Acting. Directing. Just finished a major play by Ishmael Reed. I’m making documentaries. I want to create new triathlon formats. I’m looking at ultra races, off-the-grid stuff, Xterra-style events—anything that tests the mind and body together.

I don’t put myself in one lane anymore. I’m not just a model. I’m not just an athlete. I’m not just a person with MS. I’m all of it—and I’m saying yes to everything that helps me grow.

Q: Final question. What does hope look like to you?

Sekou: Hope is Harlem guys knocking on your door when you think no one sees you. Hope is walking again when you were told you wouldn’t. Hope is choosing to love the thing that almost broke you.

That’s what I want people to know. You don’t have to be fearless. But you do have to be willing. Willing to try. Willing to ask for help. Willing to get back up. That’s endurance.

Video credits Written by Sekou Carradine & Crystal Rodwell

Produced by The Carradine Group, INC

Directed by Cody Blevins

Follow Sekou and connect through his platform:

📸 Instagram: @wehavems