Finding Community From Running With The Pack

When I began running – as a habit – I did so with my best friend Cindy.

That spring, we started a walk-run program, which featured alternating intervals of running and walking, to get in shape. Cindy and I met three to four times per week and followed a schedule that slowly increased the length and frequency of each running interval while, at the same time, gradually decreased our walking time.  

And, of course, we didn’t walk-run in silence. We talked.

This was part of the strategy. Talking forced us to keep a “conversational” pace – one that wasn’t too fast, which in turn prevented us from pushing too hard in the beginning and possibly getting injured.

But the chance to catch up with Cindy also made running feel more like fun and less like another item on my “to-do” list. When I realized that running was actually enjoyable, I had more of a desire to run.

That social connection – like my running habit – has stuck around. With what feels like limited time in the week, I’m glad to have a few hours to spend with my friends while we log miles.

Within the first few miles, we talk about races and injuries and maybe what happened on Friday night. Between miles five and six, someone will probably bring up food. (Okay, usually that someone is me. I get hungry when I run.) 

By the seven-mile mark, almost any topic can end up on the table.

There’s a quote I like by Amby Burfoot, a runner and editor of Runner's World and an author of many books on running. In The Runner’s Guide To The Meaning Of Life, Burfoot writes: “When we run, we are already so exposed, often nearly naked in our shorts and T-shirts, huffing and puffing, purified by the effort. Briefly removed from the defenses and secrets we maintain in so much of our lives, we feel less need to hide our private thoughts, loves, fears, and stresses. We share.”

There’s a relative honesty and true camaraderie out there on the run. It doesn't have to come down to baring the soul (although sometimes that honesty does wonders when it's turned on nagging personal problems that otherwise seem less clear).

That sharing can be as simple as smiling and chatting with the person who happens to be running along beside you.

Every Saturday morning, in rain, shine, and sometimes snow, people collect outside the Columbia Swim Center for the Howard County Striders “Bagel Run,” which follows a course that ranges from approximately eight to 20 miles.

(Tip: Not up to running eight miles? Park a car at or near and have a running buddy take you to the start of Bagel Run. Don't forget to carry your car key as you run. You'll log between four and five miles.)

When the run begins at 7 a.m., the pack starts together and stretches out as it winds its way through the streets of Columbia toward Centennial Lake. 

Along the way, runners talk.

“How far are you going today?”

"Keep going, halfway done."

“What are you training for?”

Or, at a water stop: “Are you going 10? Can I run back with you?”

Many runners end up at the Bagel Bin in Wilde Lake afterwards, sharing a quick breakfast or a long cup of coffee. The crowd is a welcoming one.

And, while there are plenty of good reasons to run solo, that social aspect why I like the group runs. They put me in touch with a community of runners, one to which I’m always glad to return after time spent on the road alone.