I have never been one to run with other people. Running for me is primarily a solo event. I race against myself, disappoint myself, encourage myself, and high five myself for a job well done. I could say that this is indicative of my independent nature and I'm sure there is some truth to that assessment. But my solitary adventures can also be credited to that quiet voice I still hear occassionally that whispers, "you are not a runner." Other people are runners. Other people are athletic. Other people are fast. Other people are thin. Other people are graceful. Other people look better in lycra.
I went running tonight with my friend, Kristen. Kristen is lovely. She's taller than me, thinner than me, with cascades of curly brunette hair, and painfully pretty skin. She's just the sort of woman who manages to exude grace while wearing a tshirt, which I find rather amazing. I feel like a freckled, clumsy mess next to this sweet ladyfriend.
Not to mention she is, indisputably, faster than me.
But I thoroughly enjoyed my first run with a fellow human. We talked about work, about stresses, about church, about running, about the weather. And we stopped midway for ice cream at Sebastien Joe's. We sweated a bit, but not much given my slowness and the beauty of a fallish day.
I like being proven wrong (within reason). While I do still hear that voice, teasing my assumption that I am now A Runner (one marathon and six half-marathons should be fair proof), I am getting better at ignoring its implications. I am not fast. And I'm not particularly graceful. I can't imagine that lycra will ever be my fabric of choice. But I am one of those other people. And running with those other runners, the ones that are faster and thinner and stronger than me, only reminds me of how far away from being beside them I was a couple years ago. And regardless of my speed or ability (or lack thereof), there is a communion of pavement pounding that everyone who does it understands. It doesn't take a 7 minute mile to recognize and appreciate the feel of legs and street and arms and hips and ankles and sidewalk cracks.
I'm a runner, are you?
Yes, I'm a runner, too.
