The loneliness of a long distance runner
When I go for a run I almost always go alone. I prefer it that way. I can leave when I want, go as fast (or as slow) as I want, and not have to talk along the way. It’s a nice, solitary time to really think about things.
So why is it, when I’m involved in an organized race I crave conversation, or at least, some kind of connection.
You know what one of the highlights of Sunday’s Big Sur half marathon was for me? Slapping five with a runner I know as he passed me after making the turnaround way before me. You know what else I enjoyed? A five-minute conversation I had with one of my daughter’s former teachers at about mile 10.
And then there was the Big Sur marathon, when I spent about three miles chatting with a pair of ladies from Oklahoma, and when I hugged one of the volunteers at one of the last aid stops (“It’s going to be OK,” he whispered, comforting me with a gentle pat). Those are things I smile about (as opposed to climbing Hurricane Point).
The thing is, I’m not usually big on initiating conversations in day-to-day life. As a sports writer I often have to, but asking that first question, getting to that first hello is sometimes work for me. And, yeah, I don’t usually go looking for hugs.
I’m also not usually big on spending time celebrating successes. I like to just move on to the next thing.
But Sunday, after finishing the Big Sur Half Marathon in a faster time than I’d hoped for, I found myself looking for someone to celebrate with. I had told my wife the run was no big thing and that she and my daughter should just sleep in, I’d see them when I came home. But, you know, at the finish line I really missed them. I missed that gentle congratulatory kiss from my wife, I missed my daughter saying how proud she was of me. And, yes, I even missed that big, sweaty bear hug Jon Segal (he of the “longest mile” blog) gave me after we finished the Big Sur Marathon.
So there I was, a guy not usually enthusiastic about reaching out to others, in search of someone to hug.
I tell you, this running changes a man.
So why is it, when I’m involved in an organized race I crave conversation, or at least, some kind of connection.
You know what one of the highlights of Sunday’s Big Sur half marathon was for me? Slapping five with a runner I know as he passed me after making the turnaround way before me. You know what else I enjoyed? A five-minute conversation I had with one of my daughter’s former teachers at about mile 10.
And then there was the Big Sur marathon, when I spent about three miles chatting with a pair of ladies from Oklahoma, and when I hugged one of the volunteers at one of the last aid stops (“It’s going to be OK,” he whispered, comforting me with a gentle pat). Those are things I smile about (as opposed to climbing Hurricane Point).
The thing is, I’m not usually big on initiating conversations in day-to-day life. As a sports writer I often have to, but asking that first question, getting to that first hello is sometimes work for me. And, yeah, I don’t usually go looking for hugs.
I’m also not usually big on spending time celebrating successes. I like to just move on to the next thing.
But Sunday, after finishing the Big Sur Half Marathon in a faster time than I’d hoped for, I found myself looking for someone to celebrate with. I had told my wife the run was no big thing and that she and my daughter should just sleep in, I’d see them when I came home. But, you know, at the finish line I really missed them. I missed that gentle congratulatory kiss from my wife, I missed my daughter saying how proud she was of me. And, yes, I even missed that big, sweaty bear hug Jon Segal (he of the “longest mile” blog) gave me after we finished the Big Sur Marathon.
So there I was, a guy not usually enthusiastic about reaching out to others, in search of someone to hug.
I tell you, this running changes a man.
posted by dave kellogg at 9:59 PM
1 Comments:
Good post. Enjoyed reading it--a kindred spirit. I wrote about the same subject on Dec.4th !
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