Running For Your Life
As Montana’s youth suicide rates continue to outpace the national average, with Flathead County ranking near the top, local coaches, educator, and prevention experts say stories of strength and resilience are important mile markers in the marathon of mental wellness.
By MICAH DREWEditor’s Note: This article contains mentions of suicide. If you are in crisis, please call, text or chat with the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988, or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741.
Connor Zumalt was bored.
He was running down the North Fork Road heading south from the Big Creek Campground, one of 52 runners participating in the Cedar Creek Marathon this fall along the western edge of Glacier National Park. Only a few miles into the event, he pulled his phone out of the blue running vest he wore and called his soccer coach, Patrick Jones.
“I’m kinda bored, and you’re making me run so slowly,” Jones recalls Zumalt saying.
But it was all part of the plan. The 17-year-old Columbia Falls student was in the middle of his senior soccer season with the Wildcats, a team that was undefeated and a favorite to win the conference title. Jones had spent the weeks since Zumalt decided to run a marathon ensuring that his running and soccer training weren’t overloading the athlete and risking burnout or injury.
“I told him up front the biggest mistake you can make in this whole training thing is telling me you’re OK when you’re not, whether it’s physically or mentally. If we end up bumping down the half marathon, that’s fine. If you end up not doing it for whatever reason, that’s fine,” Jones said. “We’ve already accomplished so much just deciding to do this and putting in the time training and using it as a tool to deal with stress.”
Zumalt hadn’t overtrained, though, and wanted to push the pace faster than he had been told to run. Jones convinced him to keep up the steady work and they hung up.
A few minutes later Zumalt called his brother, and then called Jones back an hour later, using the conversations to distract from the act of running 26.2 miles. When he invariably lost service along the rural road he switched on some music. As he got closer to the finish line in Columbia Falls, his friends and soccer teammates began showing up on the side of the road waving cowbells and cheering him on.
Entering the finals miles, Zumalt checked his watch and saw he had been running almost perfectly even splits and had maintained a faster pace than his coach had assigned him. He picked it up, made the final left turn into town, crested a small hill and crossed the finish line in three hours and 40 minutes, the fifth overall finisher.
Sitting on the side of the road near the finish line, surrounded by his friends and his mom, Zumalt made one more phone call to his soccer coach, O’Brien Byrd.
“I asked him, ‘How are you doing right now? How are you feeling?’” Byrd said. “He told me, ‘Coach, I’m so happy. I can’t move, and my legs hurt, but I’m just sitting here in the sun and I’m happy.’”
“Connor really is a different person now than he was a few months ago,” Byrd added. “This is someone who was already a pretty damn good kid, a good athlete, a good leader and teammate. But after that experience, he was really on a different level.”
It was a different story a few months ago, when Byrd got a call from Zumalt asking if they could meet up and have a conversation. Byrd didn’t know what to expect, but he assumed something was up — maybe the athlete had a new summer job or went through a breakup that might affect the effort he invested in summer conditioning.
Instead, sitting in the dugout at Flip Darling Memorial Field in Columbia Falls, Zumalt divulged that he was struggling mentally and emotionally and had attempted suicide just a few days prior while driving at highway speeds. A change of heart saved his life, charting a course of recovery and growth.
The following day, he shared the experience with his mother and brother and, together, they sought professional treatment through clinicians at Logan Health.
Part of the treatment plan crafted for Zumalt involved talking to his coach.
“It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with something like this, but it’s still a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights moment when you hear the words,” Byrd said. “He spelled out what he had been going through and told me about how they were addressing it with professionals, but I had an idea to add to that. I thought we should put something in front of him that is so incredibly hard, physically and mentally, it would require a real shift for him to achieve.”
He suggested Zumalt sign up for a marathon and start training the next day with a run of at least three miles.
Zumalt stood up, shook Byrd’s hand, and said, “Ok coach, I’ll do it.”
The next morning, he went for a three-mile run before soccer practice.
A combination of factors had led Zumalt down the path of suicidal ideation, none of which are unique among the teenage population — family dynamics, social tensions, changes in a relationship status, uncertainty around the future. Even though some of the stressors were more readily obvious than others, he hadn’t revealed the depths of his spirals.
“I remember when he told me he had tried to drive off the road. I just melted,” his mother, Candace, said. “Thank God, thank the universe, whatever, that he made it home. And that he was willing to go get help.”
Zumalt began regularly scheduled visits with a therapist, downloaded a suite of mental wellness apps and developed a multi-step plan outlining his support system and strategies for working through his emotions, while also recognizing his own limitations and need for help. He put in the work with his therapist, he put in the work in his journal, and he began grinding out miles.
Coach Byrd had been the one to connect Zumalt with Coach Jones, who, in his life away from the soccer pitch, had employed marathon training as a tool for processing mental health struggles a few years earlier.
“Once I knew Connor was getting professional help as well, I agreed that as an athlete, having a goal like that to focus on is really helpful. It was for me,” Jones said. “Plus, when you’re out there with endorphins coursing through you, emotions can come through that and it’s another way to process and open up all those thoughts.”
Training runs became an exercise in fellowship, with either Jones, Zumalt’s brother or his mom biking next to him.
“A lot of those first runs was just a lot of emotion and negativity coming out. It felt like it was freeing for him, and he would just talk through it. Of course, whomever was with him would just let him communicate. No judgment, it was just beautiful to see it happen,” Candace said.
About halfway through his training, Zumalt said he ran out of things to say. “It was a strange feeling. I just kind of realized that I wasn’t doing these runs to open up, but I was just doing them for myself, to make myself better. It was really exciting and I’m extraordinarily glad I was doing it.”
Looking at a calendar of races, Zumalt and his crew found the Cedar Creek Marathon, put on my Logan Health to support suicide prevention and mental health awareness.
Running 26.2 miles is not a feasible treatment option for everyone struggling with mental health or suicidal ideation, but any intentional acts of physical or mental well-being can be hugely beneficial, says Nicci Schellinger-Daniher, program director for the Nate Chute Foundation.
“Not everyone can do a marathon, but youths and adolescents look for milestones they can achieve at that age. Setting even little, positive goals you can do for yourself like getting better sleep, or going for walks can be hugely beneficial. We talk about this in classrooms now — find those things to destress, walking your dog, taking time to pet your cat, reading a book. Even though these things seem simple, they all add up to how we show up in the world,” Daniher said. “I remember hearing about Connor completing the marathon and it’s an absolutely great story. It’s important to show stories of strength and resilience because they’re as important in the landscape of prevention as those about warning signs and who to talk to and so on.”
Conversations surrounding suicide prevention increase following tragedies, but Daniher and other mental health professional emphasize the need to have conversations more regularly.
The Nate Chute Foundation has been an anchor in the Flathead Valley’s suicide awareness landscape for decades and is continually evolving its approach, most recently following a 16-month stretch in 2021 when eight Flathead Valley teenagers died by suicide, raising awareness and outreach in a community struck by tragedy.
“We’re still grieving and learning from the crisis we saw in 2021,” Daniher said. “One thing that emerged for Nate Chute Foundation after that period was we changed our mission. It was initially focused on preventing suicide in the Flathead Valley, and then we added promotion of mental wellness, because we don’t want to strictly address this from the standard suicide-prevention protocol of talking about risk factors and warning signs. One way to approach suicide prevention is to approach it from strength. Get in classrooms and not just talk about hard things that may lead you to mental health struggles, but about the positive things you can do for yourself.”
Another change that Daniher said has occurred in recent years is the start of grassroots student clubs at each of the valley’s high schools centered around mental wellness and nurturing open dialogue.
“We want to normalize talking about what we’re going through. If you can talk to your friends about going to physical therapy because you broke your leg, we want you to be able to talk to them about going to a therapist in the same way,” Daniher said. “Getting kids to normalize checking in on one another and be OK saying, ‘at this moment, life sucks and I’m not doing well.’ Saying that out loud can take the lid off the boiling pot of water and reduces the chance of someone going through with thoughts of suicide.”
Montana’s youth suicide rate numbers have long outpaced the national average. Between 2008-2020, the Montana’s youth suicide rate for ages 11-17 was pegged at 11 per 100,000, or more than double the national rate for the same age group, according to Karl Rosston, the state’s suicide prevention coordinator.
The Youth Risk Behavior Survey, administered in odd years by the state Office of Public Instruction, has shown an increase in suicidal ideation and suicide attempts by Montana high school students over the past 12 years, and significantly over the last two.
From 2011 to 2021, the portion of high school students in Montana who reported seriously considering a suicide attempt rose from 15.2% to 21.7%. The 2023 study, published earlier this year, showed a further increase to 25.7%, with Flathead County ranking third among Montana counties at 30%. The 2023 study also showed 15% of students in Montana reported an attempted suicide, with Flathead ranked slightly higher at 16.4%.
Ryan Nolan, the school psychologist with the Bigfork School District, said while those figures are alarming and eye-opening, it’s important to recognize areas of improvement, including how the community and schools respond to a death by suicide. Bigfork lost a student in 2021, while another student died by suicide earlier this year. While every case is unique, the community is still better prepared than it was just a few years ago.
There is a Flathead Valley Quick Response Team, a loose group of counselors and mental health professionals from the various school district who can mobilize to a specific district during times of need and help manage the response. Nolan also said that it’s become easier to have conversations with teachers and coaches at the school about how they can address students and know how to talk about it.
“I think we’re getting better just around the word suicide. It’s getting easier for staff to talk about it, to mention it and students aren’t as shocked if someone asked them ‘are you having thoughts of suicide?’” he said. “Still, it just keeps coming down to adults and having relationships with kids where they can have those conversations. It’s just kind of messy. There’s no easy black-and-white information sheet or program to set up that we know will work. It’s about building relationships with kids and building relationships between peers and letting them connect and ask those questions.”
Studies show that having one trusted adult to talk to significantly decreases the likelihood of a young person dying by suicide, whether that’s a family member, a teacher or coach, or a religious leader.
“Coaches, in particular, are viewed a little differently because students choose to participate in sports,” said Nolan, who coaches the Bigfork cross country team. “We tend to have more personal conversations with kids at practices or on bus rides to games. It can be easier to do a five-minute check-in with a student. I also think it can be easier to see if a kid is having a hard time — if they show up unhappy in math class, that’s not always unusual, but if someone shows up unhappy to their sports practice, that can prompt a bigger reaction.”
Over the last few years, Nolan said that as mental health awareness continues to grow, more young people understand that mental healthcare is a vital part of their education in life. “You need an adult to teach you geometry. You need an adult to teach you chemistry. You also need an adult to teach you about your emotions and how to deal with the struggles of life,” he said.
Zumalt knows there is still a stigma surrounding mental health and seeking support, especially in a school setting.
“The thought of going to talk to your school counselor, it’s a weird, icky feeling. I mean, they always say you can come talk to them, but I never wanted to … there’s a lot of fear about other people’s opinions if you talk about this stuff. But honestly, what’s it to them? If you don’t have a therapist or a coach, then yes, go talk to someone at the school. Or go talk to your friend. Just talk to anyone,” Zumalt said. “During all of this I went through a change. I’m willing to open up to a lot of people now and if people ask about it, it doesn’t bother me. Kids are going through a lot these days, but I don’t think you hear from kids like me very much. Even if someone’s not dealing with exactly what I dealt with, if it’s something similar, I want them to hear a story like mine.”
Running a marathon in the middle of the soccer season — especially one in which the Wildcats are ranked No. 1 in the state with a 12-0-1 record — raised some questions among teammates.
“I let some of my friends know slowly what was going on and all that,” Zumalt said. “They didn’t think of me going to therapy or training for the marathon as a weird thing.”
Instead, they showed up for him. Shortly after Zumalt passed the halfway mark in the marathon his friends started popping up at aid stations, ringing cowbells and cheering him on.
At the finish line, Zumalt’s mother, his teammates and Coach Jones nervously watched the runner’s location dot slowly move along the maps on their phones’ tracking apps.
“It was really funny that he kept calling me during the race,” Jones said. “Like he’s this mature young man, but at the same time he’s just like a funny dumb high school kid asking me if he should drink some water in the middle of a marathon.”
Seeing Zumalt crest the final hill brought Jones to tears.
“For the rest of my life I’ll never forget that moment. I looked over at his mom and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more proud mother in my entire life,” Jones said. “I mean can you imagine how much it hurt to hear what Connor went through and then to see your son on the complete other side of it? I just told him, ‘you did that.’ It wasn’t for his mom and it wasn’t for O’Brien or me. He did that for himself.”
“I just have a better mindset all the time now,” Zumalt said about his training experience. “In July, I didn’t think I was going anywhere in my life. Now I feel like I can do anything. No matter what’s happening with the rest of my life, I know I can put my mind to it and handle it.”
If you are in crisis, please call, text or chat with the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988, or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741.