Solo Group Runs

Why am I here?

The low hum of chitter chatter, the moist air from the winter season rain, every now and then, a laugh sounds out over it all. It’s Saturday, and the trail running community gathers for the group long run. The energy is excitement for some and subdued for others. Maybe they’re new. Everyone who’s here chose trails this morning. Everyone who’s here chose to do it with the community. The promise of other people to run those trails with. So why then, I wonder to myself, am I running up this hill alone?

We’re 2 miles into the group run and starting the first big climb. It’s about a 2-mile climb and reasonably runnable. But here I am, alone. I can see the “fast crew” up ahead, slowly pulling away. I swore they told me they were going to “take it easy” today and were “just here to socialize.” Maybe so. Their easy pace, I guess, is still too fast for me. I started with that group, but when they started pulling away on the flat start while I was doing 7:30s, I had to chill. No way I could burn matches then, when 15 miles still stood in front of me.

As I curse the “fast crew” for duping me yet again, I get passed. Another solo runner like me doing his best to catch that lead group. Go get ‘em, buddy. A minute later, another passes. Damn, I didn’t think I was that slow up hills. Another passes. This time, it’s two of them. They say, “Hi” and the lady asks me how I am. I mutter “Hey, good good” back, but it’s strained. They too push ahead. In my state, that interaction means more than she probably thinks it does. Thanks for the acknowledgement.

We’ve barely climbed halfway up this hill, and I’m losing it. Did I really come here to run alone? Should I slow down and wait for one of the groups behind me? Maybe I’ll catch them on the downhill. Should I take a shorter route? Am I really this slow, or is this lingering from the cold I had last week? It’s funny how quickly your mind can turn on you. You can show up to enjoy some time with friends, time in nature, time in motion, yet your mind can always find ways to make it less fun.

I’m passed again. This time, it’s a small group. They don’t seem like they’re going that much faster than me, so I pick up the pace to hold on. They’re talking about shoes, classic runners. Upper this, outsole that, I hear “Oh, I liked those a lot until they updated the tongue.” I’m working hard to keep up, so I don’t say anything, but I’m happy to be running with someone. I enjoy what I call the Trail Radio, when you’re working too hard to participate in a conversation, so you just listen as you put one foot in front of the other, breathing the cool air hard like a metronome.

Eventually, they too pull away. Alone again.

“Hey, Tony!” I look back to see that the group of friends that I was going to “slow down for” has caught me. Silly me to think I had to wait for them. Again, I hold on for a few minutes, and again they pull away. “See you back at the store,” they say. “See ya,” I squeeze out. We’re only just over 3 miles into this damn run.

Group runs are great, despite what you might be thinking. I love community. Community has helped me through some tough times. It’s where I fell in love with trails. We have a large trail community here, and I regularly participate in 3 or more group runs a week. Usually, there are enough people that you’re guaranteed to find someone at your pace. BUT, I wonder about that as I’ve found it hard as of recent to find that pace group. Seemingly too slow for the “fast group” but pushing too hard for the “medium group,” I’ve done more solo group runs than I remember ever having to do.

The more I think about it now, the more I wonder if I actually prefer running with just one other person. Someone who will run my pace not because it’s their pace but because they want to run with me. And I run their pace because I want to run with them. A mutual pace we establish together, sometimes with no words said, but contradictingly so we can speak more words. Someone I can chat and connect with. The “group” or “community” feels too impersonal these days. It’s commitment for those who hate commitment. You come to the group because anyone will do for your run buddy. It’s almost an excuse for not having a deeper connection. In a group, it’s too easy to hide. Too easy to claim I’m too slow or too fast to run with anyone. Too easy to forgo the effort required for an actual connection with another human.

I come around another corner, and I can see the top of the climb. A few people are standing there waiting. Maybe they’re waiting for me. I’m passed again. It’s a small crew of high schoolers, maybe college students. They blow by me. Must have started late.

At long last, I reach the top. Thank goodness. Those waiting at the top weren’t waiting for me, but in the distance, I can see that group of friends from earlier bombing the downhill. Downhills are my thing, so let’s go! I put on a bit of gas and slowly reel them in. Just as fast as the trail’s grade turned negative, all doubt has cleared my mind. Oh man, they’re bombing! Burning a match or two here is worth it. I had my alone time. Go join the group, Tony.

I catch them. “Hey, Tony!” Someone says again. “What’s up, y’all?” I can finally say with some breath. I’m finally

running with people. All feels right in the world. Weird that I ever had doubt. This is easy, I’m cruising! We chat, we laugh, it feels great. Then I look up, and there is the next hill. Here we go again.