Justin Britt’s NFL journey didn’t just end—it slammed shut unexpectedly, leaving him searching for a new path. But here’s where it gets interesting: running, something he never thought he’d embrace, became his unexpected salvation.
After his football career was cut short, Britt found himself on his Peloton bike, trying to escape the lingering shadows by cycling away the frustration. He lost weight, cleaned up his diet, and pedaled hard, but no matter how much he pushed, he still struggled to rediscover who he was without football—the identity that had driven him for years. "The more time I spent out of the game, trying to figure out myself," Britt recalls, "the more it felt like it wasn’t the ending I wanted."
Then, on a warm June day in Houston, his wife casually suggested he try running. That single suggestion sparked what Britt calls an "accidental love story"—a gradual but profound bond with running that brought him peace every time he pressed start on his watch and headed into the neighborhood.
It wasn’t initially the fairy tale start you’d expect. On that first attempt, the Texas heat was relentless, and Britt couldn’t even finish one mile without feeling like he was about to collapse. But fast-forward just over two years, and Britt is preparing to run his first marathon in Chicago—the full 26.2 miles. More than that, he’s setting his sights high: not just to finish, but to finish strong.
Emily Venters, a pro runner coaching Britt through months of marathon training, shares his ambitious goal: "He's aiming for a sub-3-hour marathon, which means running under a 7-minute mile pace. It’s incredible to think someone with just a year of long-distance experience is hitting these benchmarks."
But this isn’t only about hitting a target time. For Britt, the marathon symbolizes much more—a journey from his lowest lows to a new peak of achievement and self-discovery. Mental health had taken a nosedive after football, and running offered a lifeline back up. "That’s why I left the game," he says. "My mental health was spiraling downward, and running has helped pull me back."
Britt’s football career began with the Seattle Seahawks, who drafted him in the second round in 2014. He quickly rose, starting in the Super Bowl as a rookie and becoming one of the league’s top centers over six seasons. But injuries came—his first major blow was a torn ACL in 2019. Despite rehab and hopeful plans to return in 2020, the Seahawks moved on, drafting another player and releasing Britt. Still, he signed with the Houston Texans in 2021 after training hard through the pandemic, feeling stronger than ever.
Then fate struck again. A crushing injury tore most of the cartilage in his knee. Pain, swelling, and weekly fluid drainage became routine as he worked tirelessly to battle back for the 2022 season. Although he played briefly that year, the strength and reaction that once defined him seemed to slip away, making the game feel surreal, almost like watching from the outside.
The emotional weight of those struggles hit hard. After one game, Britt, overwhelmed and feeling smaller than ever, left without celebration, retreating straight to his car to break down in tears. The next day, during tape review, the coaches’ criticism blurred into a haze, and he admits, "I was emotionally empty. When my wife asked what was wrong, I just needed her to see me—I broke down and said, 'I’m not OK.'"
Acknowledging the pain was crucial. Although stepping away from football into the unknown was terrifying, Britt understood it was necessary. Sports had dominated his life from a young age—an exceptional athlete in high school, excelling at wrestling and football, even winning a state championship against competitors much heavier than him. “His confidence was the key to his wins,” said his high school wrestling coach. "He went onto the mat knowing he would win."
But that confidence didn’t carry over to his first try at running, which bruised his ego so badly he avoided it for nine months. What reignited him remains a bit hazy, but once spring came, he laced up again—and hasn’t stopped since.
Entering his first 5K, Britt charged ahead with gusto, even throwing up afterward but feeling hooked by the energy and camaraderie of the running community. It reminded him of game day’s excitement. Venters notes, "When leaving professional sports, you need something new to chase. For Justin, that’s running now."
He kept racing, drawn to the thrill of competition and pushing his limits. Even Richard Sherman, his former Seahawk teammate, caught him running an 800-meter race unexpectedly, surprised and impressed at Britt’s dedication to this new challenge.
Britt’s story isn’t unique—other NFL stars like Tiki Barber and Alan Faneca have also found marathon running to be a compelling next chapter. Faneca described the marathon as a battle of will against the road and pain, reigniting competitive fires long tucked away.
In contrast to the lonely silence Britt felt after football, running gave him community, purpose, and connection. He recently founded “Run the Race,” a group aiming to help former pro athletes navigate the difficult transition out of sports. He envisions expanding this program, hosting races in NFL cities where current and former players can support participants, creating a new kind of brotherhood.
Social media showcases how important this support is. Former teammates like Sherman and DeShawn Shead often post workouts, cheer each other on, and maintain that camaraderie virtually—offering encouragement and a reminder that the brotherhood endures.
Britt laughs now at how running once seemed irrelevant to him as a lineman. "I used to complain about 40-yard sprints, saying it wasn’t a good play if linemen had to cover that much ground. Now here I am, running 20 miles a day and loving it."
This Sunday, as he tackles 26.2 miles in Chicago, Britt isn’t just running a race—he’s chasing a better version of himself alongside thousands of others who share his passion. "In the running community," he says, "there’s no such thing as being alone."
So here’s a question for you: Can the grit and drive from professional sports truly propel someone into a completely different world—like marathon running—and bring lasting peace? Or is this transformation something uniquely personal? Join the conversation and share your thoughts!
