Fast [sorta] Alone, Far [mostly] Together

If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.

Robin Jones Gunn

I used to get anxious meeting someone for a run. My running career began as a way to work through frustrations I felt towards myself and towards my past. I didn’t want anyone to be with me. I doubt I would have heard anything they said anyway. I was too busy mulling over all the bad things that I’d done or had been done to me. My mind was a messy place.

As I began to heal, I started listening to podcasts. Endurance Planet, Freakonomics, Rich Roll, Stuff You Should Know. The hosts voices began to become old friends. They could talk and I would huff and puff around not having to talk back. I’d even learn something here and there.

Running was still something I was embarrassed about. I grew up in a family that prioritized sports, not a healthy lifestyle. Running meant you were trying to either lose weight or justify the food you ate. There was no mention that exercise was good for so many other things than simply caloric depletion.

I started running to get out of the house and, I’ll be honest, keep a good size. It also seemed to piss off my family, which made it even sweeter. I enjoyed doing something they found miserable. In my teenage angst, this seemed great.

Running brought me clarity of mind, helped healed my body and mind and made me a much tougher person. After reading the research, I should have assumed these things would happen. What I didn’t expect was the people it would bring into my life, and the places I’d go. In my early 20s, I’d essentially cut myself off from friendships. I had superficial ones at work, but I just wasn’t interested. Being told I was a shitty, ungrateful person for so long, I’d all but given up and decided to prioritize my own well-being.

I did that for years, not to be selfish, but because I was desperate to like myself. I wanted to enjoy living with this person, because she’s the only person I get to live with forever, guaranteed. I was so deep down a toxic mental and emotional well I didn’t have the space to care for or appreciate someone else. In hindsight, I am glad I didn’t, because I would have been a shitty partner and friend.

When I began to blossom into the runner I am today, I had learned to accept myself for who I was and enjoy that person. My confidence grew and I did my best to stop judging my worth against some perceived ideal. I went to a few races and met some people. I agreed to meet them, one day a week, for a run. It took a while, but somehow I convinced myself I wouldn’t be too slow or breathe too loud for them.

I still enjoyed my podcast runs and solo efforts, so it took a few years still to come to the place I am today. I run with someone most days of the week, no matter the pace or distance. I somehow convinced myself to join the fast ladies for a workout one day, and enjoyed it. I convinced myself that the only way I’d get better was if I ran with them. Every time I don’t want to show up, I tell myself that. It usually gets me up and at least to the starting spot, even if I cannot perform.

I think the quote I listed at the top of the page is true, with a few caveats. I edited it with my satire.

If you want to go fast, find someone faster, you chase them, you’re still mostly alone. If you want to go long, it’s a hell of a lot more enjoyable when you go together…unless you have a podcast and the other person is a smoker.

Ellie Pell