Guest Author
People run for all kinds of reasons. Some decide to get in better shape or realize a personal milestone. Some find motivation from that mouthy broad in the office who said, “This is a bad idea for someone your age.” Some, like me, wanted to stick it to terrorists after the Boston bombing last year.
For whatever reason, we’re runners now. But this particular demographic seemed strange and I didn’t know quite how to fit in. I mean, I was constantly looking for running shorts designed by Betsey Johnson and even Googled “punk runner gear” — all to no avail.
I figured I wouldn’t find other runners like me.
So I learned to comfortably run by myself. I got to know the deer and raccoon gangs in my neighborhood that stared as I ran by at 4 a.m. Nine Inch Nails kept me company as I finally finished a 5K and 10K without stopping. The solitude felt good and allowed me time to follow my breath, keep track of cadence, and clear my head.
However, the lack of company made long runs even longer. I had so many questions about this new way of life (it’s not a “hobby”) and longed for camaraderie.
I thought about my own inner circle for some company. Most of my family and lifelong friends were not marathon types. This didn’t stop them from supporting me unconditionally, often with a travel mug of vodka coffee and loud cheers when I crossed the finish line. I’m lucky to have them and felt no desire to guilt them into joining me.
I’m also lucky enough to have a few experienced athletes in my life, and they’re on my side, too. Not once did they laugh at the idea of a middle-aged woman taking up running and completing the Boston Marathon in less than a year. I am forever grateful for their advice and opinions, but they live far away. No one can travel 1,100 miles every weekend just to run with me.
Everyone needs some support and I’m no different. I wanted to know if my gait needed work. Fellow runners would understand the drive pulling me out of bed before dawn on weekends just to run around in circles for a few hours.
I wanted to talk to someone in person who could explain how to prevent both bleeding nipples and public urination charges.
After my first 9-mile run, I knew I was in trouble when I started high-fiving plants and trees.
I got online and looked up local running groups, still skeptical about the idea. I’m not a joiner. I progressed from a 13-minute mile down to 11 minutes in about eight weeks, but I still didn’t think I could keep up with speed demons in coordinated Pearl Izumi trunks.
I thought about it and realized runners did seem friendlier than before. On routes where I’d previously been a power-walker, and thus routinely ignored by the gazelles and Energizer bunnies on crack, things had changed. Now I received nods, smiles, even a “Good morning” or “One of us…one of us…”every now and then.
I found a collective nearby and signed up. I told myself that if I didn’t experience a love connection that was OK. I could always go back to doing my own thing — by myself.
Just like high school.
To my surprise, I found people a lot like me — fit, funny, goal-oriented, and friendly once you get to know them.
I wasn’t much of a talker at first. I did a lot of nodding and smiling, until mile marker 10, when I began to grunt and wonder what kind of corpse I’d make. There was no way I could carry on a conversation in the beginning, but I listened and learned.
They taught me to pump my arms when running up a hill and shake them out when running down. They recommended “sexy” compression socks. They too see value in powering through uncomfortable cramps or tough courses to finish what we started.
They understand my unbridled joy at accomplishing a personal record with sore feet, having to pee and all while something is hanging out of my butt.
Fellow runners helped me learn the importance of pacing, buying a size up when purchasing running shoes, and how rolling a frozen water bottle under my feet after long runs prevents debilitating aches and pains. I look forward to my weekend runs now, knowing there are all kinds of people, paces and distances to choose from.
And we don’t only talk about runners’ knees. I get them started on current events and before I know it, two hours have passed and we all learned a little something.
That’s my kind of morning.
So look up a local runner’s group and don’t worry so much. You can still be you. Rock the Dead Kennedys on your iPod and draw a peace symbol on your visor. No doubt there are runners down the street listening to something similar and ready to go at 4 a.m. tomorrow.
And their high-fives are way better than trees.
