Running Together

It is rare that I run with anyone but myself. On the one hand, I envy runners moving side by side, engaged in conversation and locked into a shared rhythm; on the other, I cherish the time I get to catch up on podcasts, clear my head, or unlock new ideas uninterrupted during morning runs. But a recent long run with a dear friend showed me what I was missing out on.

For the first time in a long time, I would be in the Albany area at the same time as one of the few friends I have who is as invested in running as I am, and I naturally reached out and asked her to join me on my long run. We lucked out with gorgeous weather during this hot summer running on the Albany County Rail Trail.

If you stay at a truly easy effort pace, conversing while running isn’t too difficult. A long run is the perfect time to catch up with old friends or get to know new ones. I remember a couple years ago, a new friend of mine came along for my long run; by the end I felt like we’d known each other for years.

A run together is a unique opportunity, free of distractions, to connect with someone. That person can be someone to commiserate with during summer training, or someone who lends an ear you didn’t know you needed, while you can be the same for them. In such an individualized sport, it’s special how much one run with the right person (or people) can leave a lasting impact. 

A reset

I’ve been in a rut with my running for over a year now, after overtraining, burnout, and a couple of injuries have set me back mentally and physically. Running by myself, I tend to get too aware of physical sensations. I’ve lost a lot of trust in my body, either letting training anxiety build to heights that dwarf me, or letting fear of injury hold me back from the speed and volume I want to reach.

Running with my friend, I didn’t think about those things. There wasn’t a second of that 97-minute run that wasn’t occupied by conversation as we moved together without thinking. We took our gels, sipped our electrolytes, and spoke about anything and everything on our minds. I don’t even think we talked about running at all. My body was simply the vessel carrying me, as running became quality time with someone I care about.

This no-pressure, genuinely fun run reminded me of how community oriented this sport is. I sign up for races because of the pride and gratitude I feel witnessing people coming together for they love of the sport, goals they’ve worked so hard for, or both.  

Solo runs have felt nothing but pressure lately, especially long runs and speed workouts. I have a narrative in my mind that missing runs or goal paces means I’m continuing to fall behind after my injuries, leading to an exhausting spiral of thoughts that snowball into anxiety that keeps me up at night. But running with my friend, not once did I think of how this run will contribute to my half marathon training. Not once was I relieved that I got it done for the sake of checking it off my training plan—I was simply overjoyed that I got to share this time with her and the accomplishment of a long run done.

Feeling better physically and mentally

Sometimes, when runners fall into serious training, they turn the whole sport into serious business. Running, to me, feels like the most freeing thing we can do with our bodies. It’s also a silly little thing when you break it down; bounding from one foot to the other, not really going to a certain destination but just doing a bunch of loops through parks or back and forth on trails (an especially silly moment is watching runners do circles in front of their driveway to hit an even mileage—I’ve been one of those too).

We are the ones that self-impose pressure. Strava and Instagram may be full of people boasting times that I aspire to reach, leading me to feel like I’m “behind” or lacking in my own training if I too am not running my “easy” pace as fast as other women my age—but I am the one that chooses to internalize what I see as my own inadequacy.

When I ran with my friend, I could not care less what our pace was. I barely looked at my watch or noticed the *ping* of each mile completed. I was so wrapped up in our conversation that everything that I usually fixate on in my runs became secondary. It was a time for her and I, not a time to prove anything to anyone.

An added bonus: I physically felt great during the entire run. The miles flew by as we chatted away, and more importantly, we kept the pace easy so that we could maintain that conversation. There was no pushing the pace for the sake of ego, no nonsensical numbers-based physical and mental stress that leads to greater perceived effort.

Having that carefree mentality can only help anyone’s training. When I find myself hyper-focused on my heart rate or pace, I find the effort of the run is actually harder, as the voice in my head tells me I should feel amazing at this pace, even though I don’t. That mental stress then manifests into physical stress, causing that run to feel worse. It makes runs less enjoyable, thinking like that, as I rob myself of staying present, effortless, and listening to my body.

Easy runs are where the magic happens. It is where we expand our aerobic base and build a foundation from which we can have the capacity to run faster and farther. Easy runs allow our body to recover, to build endurance without breaking down or risking injury. When we let our bodies run the paces they need to, without a second thought—as her and I did together on this run—we are only helping our bodies inch closer to the goals we’ve set. 

On my own, for now

I know one day I will be brave enough to run that first step alongside strangers that will quickly become friends. For now, I also know I will be okay.

The beauty of living somewhere like New York is knowing that every run feels shared, even with my headphones on and my body moving independently. 

It is a mile run from where I live to Central Park. My favorite part of every single one of my runs is that first step into the park, when I join the wave of runners along the 6-mile loop encircling the best place in the city, in my opinion. In that spilt second, that is when I feel a part of something so much bigger than myself. I can see the expanding running community I am a part of.

Wherever I run, I love looking at the faces of fellow runners, reading their bodies and strides to feel how much they are struggling or thriving, knowing what each sensation feels like myself. I wonder what races they’re training for. I try to guess how far they’ve run already, or if they’re doing a hard workout or easy run. On the Albany Rail Trail, I smile when I see friends squeezing in a run together before the workday’s begun or enjoying a leisurely weekend long run; I can tell who regular training partners are or who are friends still getting to know one another. 

Back in Central Park, I see run clubs meeting up to begin runs as I am nearly finished or others wrapping up their runs when I’ve just begun. The other day, I saw a man wringing out a drenched shirt in front of his run club, while his teammates watched in amusement or disgust. 

I’m grateful to be a part of this global community, knowing the loneliness of the long-distance runner training on the same suburban streets, often never seeing another face for miles. For some, that is solace; for others, it is unbearable isolation.

We are all running together, in some way or another. If you are that solo runner longing for connection, I hope you find ways to connect to others—through passing waves and smiles at fellow runners, inviting a friend to join your long run on a whim, messages on social media to runners all over the world, or bravely joining a run club where you know no one.

Especially at this moment, when we are unified in cheering on athletes representing all countries and runners, being connected in this community has never felt more invigorating.

Author: Ani Freedman