Ten years after surviving a knife attack during marathon training, Citlalli G. laced up her shoes, reclaimed her joy and crossed the finish line at a marathon
Ten years ago, Citlalli G. set out for what should’ve been a simple Saturday run. She was 21, fresh into an engineering internship in Iowa, and training for her first marathon.
Instead, she ended that day in a hospital — stab wounds across her face, neck, and arm — and carrying trauma that would silence her love of running for the next decade.
She told herself, ” ‘If no one can see me, no one can hurt me,’ ” Citlalli says. “That’s the mantra I carried for 10 years.”
On that October morning in 2014, Citlalli had been running through a quiet, picturesque park — crisp air, changing leaves and deer crossing her path. “I felt like a Disney princess,” she remembers. She had taken off her headphones to enjoy the moment. That’s when a man with a knife attacked her.
“He ended up getting me on my face, across my neck, and on my arm as I tried to defend myself,” she recalls. “There was so much blood I couldn’t see — I thought I had lost my contact lens, but it was just the blood.”
She ran for her life, 911 on speaker as she navigated the unfamiliar trails. Eventually, two female runners found her, stayed by her side until help arrived, and helped her get to safety. At first she didn’t even believe they were women.
“They had beanies on,” she recalls. “I remember one of them took their beanie off and like all this beautiful curly hair came off. I saw it come down and I realized that it was a woman.”
Despite the trauma, Citlalli completed a half marathon later that year — just two months after the attack. “That was just me being stubborn,” she says now, with a laugh.
But after that race, she didn’t enter another. Her love for running was now bound to a fear she couldn’t shake.
“I felt so much fear. My body felt frozen. And picking up my feet to run those first few runs after the attack were so hard, mentally, more than anything. My body could run, but mentally, my brain was just so afraid,” she remembers.
Healing didn’t come quickly, but it did come. Over time, Citlalli began shifting her internal narrative. “Instead of ‘I need to disappear,’ it became ‘I’m alive. I’m kind. I’m brave,’ ” she says. “It was faking it until I made it.”
The turning point came nearly a decade later, as she approached the 10-year anniversary of the attack. “For that 21-year-old version of me, I was thinking she never got to run her marathon and she’s still alive,” she says.
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That’s when she learned about Every Woman’s Marathon — the only U.S. marathon designed exclusively for women, by women. It felt like fate. “No other marathon was going to feel as safe for me,” she says. “When I read about it, I was like, ‘Okay, this is it. This is the one.’ ”
With the support of her mother, a Charlotte-based running club and a new community of women runners, Citlalli trained for and completed her first full marathon in 2024 — 10 years after she was almost killed training for her first.
“My mom was there at the finish line,” she says, beaming. “Right behind Kathrine Switzer, who put the medal around my neck. That’s like a running icon. It felt like fireworks. Like the perfect pink bow tied around this story.”
Throughout her healing journey, her mother remained her greatest support. “I’d call her during runs — ‘Mom, I’m going under a bridge,’ or, ‘There’s no one else around.’ And she’d just stay on the phone with me,” Citlalli says. “Eventually I realized I wasn’t calling because I was scared. I just wanted to talk to my mom while I ran.”
The Charlotte running community also gave her strength. “There are so many run clubs here. You can find one every day of the week,” she says.
“And having an all-women’s run club — girls only, no boys allowed — that space is so important. Especially for beginners or people returning to running after kids. It lets you show up just as you are,” she continues.
That idea of reclaiming space — of showing up unapologetically — is at the heart of Citlalli’s mission now. “Running gave me my voice back,” she says. “I’m no longer in a situation where I want to shrink or I want to be invisible. I want to inspire other women and say, ‘We’re here, and we’re not going anywhere.’ ”
But she’s also acutely aware of the realities women face while running. “We shouldn’t have to be brave to go on a run,” she says. “We shouldn’t have to plan safe routes or carry alarms or share our locations just to feel safe. The problem isn’t just one man — it’s a culture that teaches women to protect ourselves, instead of teaching people not to hurt women in the first place.”
For Citlalli, that sense of belonging during this milestone run made all the difference. “The focus wasn’t on competition — it was on community,” she says. “My friends were sending me voice notes during the race. My boyfriend was cheering me on. My mom flew in. It wasn’t about my fastest mile. It was about running with the people who helped me get here.”
Today, Citlalli runs not just for herself, but for the woman she once was: the 21-year-old who was almost silenced, and the 31-year-old who found her voice again.
“I will continue to share my story that centers not only on survival,” she notes. “but around strength, and to take the fear and the shame and instead replace it with power.”
