Corriendo con Shimá
Dinée Dorame is a member of NYRR's Contributors Circle. Through this diverse group of runners, we aim to empower and serve the holistic running experience and elevate underrepresented voices.
Anyone who has followed my running journey or listened to my podcast (Grounded with Dinée Dorame) likely already knows I inherited much of my love of the sport from my dad, who was coincidentally also my coach. What many people may not know, however, is how much of my athletic journey was powerfully shaped by Shimá (my mom), Monica Etsitty Dorame. She was at every game, every meet, supporting my dad and me through whatever our team needed all while working her own demanding full-time job at the local university library.
More importantly, my mom was also the person who nurtured my culture in our household, adding so much richness, depth, and love to everything. This Women’s History Month, I’m taking a moment to acknowledge my own history and the Indigenous women who paved the path for me to grow, learn, and use my voice.
A Navajo Woman
Diné (Navajo) culture is traditionally matriarchal, so I received my first clan, Tábąąhá (Water’s Edge), from my mother and grandmothers. It’s incredibly special to know that this clan has been passed down through the women of my family since time immemorial, each generation carrying their own stories. My clans were the first way I really understood myself. Ákót’éego Diné asdzáán nishłį́. In this way, I am a Navajo woman.
I’ve always been surrounded by several generations of women on my mom’s side of the family, all living near one another on the Navajo Reservation. My great grandmother, Alice, is still a bright and fiery 102 years old, while my grandmother, Rose, is 82. My great-great grandmother, Emma, was alive during my childhood and passed away at a vibrant 104. I am lucky to learn from them, know them, and be present with them. (All five generations are together in the photo at top.)
“Growing up, living on our homelands in Ft. Defiance, we just ran around and played. Grandma Alice lived just on the other side of the hill and Grandma Emma lived just about a quarter of a mile away, so we went back and forth all the time. We also herded sheep often so being outside all the time was just how we lived,” my mom reflected.
A Culture of Women Running
Navajo women, specifically, have been running for centuries as part of the Kinaaldá (puberty ceremony) and in Navajo culture, I was taught that running east toward the sunrise in the morning was a way to strengthen your body and mind, learn self-discipline, and connect with the land.
“I’ve always had that love for running, just breathing in the cold, rainy air mixed with the faraway smell of people’s winter chimney smoke on the Rez,” she remembers. “I was always aware of the environment. It’s important to understand how rain, snow, and elements feel on your face. Maybe you pick up the dirt or shout in the morning to the Holy People. Letting them know you’re alive, that you’re here and that you acknowledge them.”
My mom would eventually go on to run high school cross country at Winslow High School in Arizona and continued running recreationally throughout college. When she met my dad, they would run together most nights of the week, anywhere from 4-8 miles. They entered countless half marathons, with my mom’s ultimate goal being to someday run a marathon.
In 2012, my mom was out for a typical quick two-mile evening loop when she heard (and felt) a snap in her knee. She experienced swelling and light pain almost immediately but figured it would get better with some rest and ice. She would later find out it was a meniscus tear. This was the beginning of a decade of knee issues and injuries, including eventual knee replacement surgery, which would keep her away from running in a big way.
A Journey of Strength and Resilience
That wouldn’t be the most difficult setback in her journey, though. In January 2014, I saw a small bump on my mom’s neck while I was sitting next to her at a family gathering. We agreed it looked unusual and she consulted a doctor the next day. “I remember when my doctor finally called me,” she said. My mom was officially diagnosed with Diffuse Large B-Cell non-Hodgkin Lymphoma.
“It’s the weirdest feeling to hear you have cancer. Your immediate thoughts are jumbled and you can easily be overcome by negative thoughts. But in the next moment, I thought, okay… there is this negativity and darkness. I need to change that. This was a fight for my life now, so maybe it was my runner’s instinct that kicked in and gave me that strength and resilience to tackle this new challenge. So, I said, let’s do this.”
Her journey with cancer was an emotional one for our entire family. There are so many layers to watching our matriarchs go through health issues like this, especially when you consider that American Indian and Alaska Native women experience cancer at a much higher rate than other demographics (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention).
“After undergoing chemotherapy, my hair started to fall out," she said. "As a Navajo woman, that’s where you keep your mind, thoughts, culture, history. Your hair represents your identity, so in a way I felt like I lost my sense of self a bit.”
Running with – and for – Our Matriarchs
Despite these painful experiences, my mom’s incredible spirit has kept her moving. Her cancer eventually went into remission after nearly four years of fighting. She finally had her final knee replacement surgery this month and is recovering well. She always talked about two major goals she has in her life: to run a marathon and to go back to school and earn her Ph.D. She decided to check one off the list by pursuing a Ph.D. in Organization, Information, and Learning Sciences at the University of New Mexico. She’s set to graduate this May. I’m so proud of all my mom has overcome and accomplished, but I’m most proud of her outlook on life, which has always remained intact.
“It's about being free," she said. "Wherever you’re running, whether it’s on the street or on a trail, it’s about simply being aware of who you are in that moment.”
In many ways, my mom’s running journey mirrors so much of my own – scattered with injuries and setbacks, but also with lots of grit, determination, ancestral knowledge, and tradition. She is hoping to get back to running one day, but this time around, no more than the 5K distance. My goal is to someday run a marathon for her, to help her check off that second goal. As Diné women, we carry our matriarchs with us in every step.
Photos courtesy of Dinée Dorame.
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