My dear father, a man of many mantras, often quoted an Emily Dickinson poem to describe me, “The soul selects her own society.”
Once I was old enough to figure out what he meant, I realized it was his literary way of saying I choose my friends carefully. That I’m not one to just hang out with whomever happens to be nearby.
Thus it probably comes as no surprise that I often exercise solo. Yes, I ran with my first husband in my 20s, but, post-divorce, I trained on my own for my first six marathons. Finally, for marathon #7, I ran with Sheila, another mother runner looking, like me, to hone her speed and qualify for Boston. Post-race, we remained good friends, but it was tough to mesh our schedules without the urgency of a big race goal.
Then, miracle of miracles, the other mom in my elementary school carpool, Molly, became a runner—and my best running friend. For the better part of a decade, we ran three to five days a week. The miles ticked off seemingly in mere minutes because we had an endless stream of subjects to discuss and things to laugh about.
Record scratch: Last year, Molly’s troublesome left knee decided to throw a tantrum that would make a toddler blush, and I resumed running alone.
Out of the blue, Trisha, a mother runner I’ve known casually for nearly two decades, asked if I wanted to run with her. Trisha was a gear-tester for me back in my freelance journalism days. Over the years our paths had randomly crossed, like in Vancouver, B.C., when we both ran that city’s marathon or when she was a guest on our podcast. We got to know each other a bit better in 2019 on AMR’s first Rancho La Puerta Retreat—Trisha was there with two friends.
So I was flattered—and a bit surprised—when Trisha suggested we run together. She struck me as a person with no shortage of workout buddies (turns out I was right in that assumption). And, most importantly, we live about 30 minutes from each other, which qualifies as a “long drive” by Portland standards!
Admittedly, I hesitated when Trisha extended the invite. As someone in her 50s who works from home, I now know my dad was right: I’m selective in the folks I surround myself with.
But, hey, it was the pandemic. Even this semi-recluse yearned for in-person companionship! Originally we met at trails in other towns, but the drive-time cut into my workday too much. After a month or two, Trisha generously offered to drive to my house to start our runs. An offer I couldn’t refuse.
Nothing says love like a running partner.
At the outset, I worried our differences would make it tough to find topics of conversation or common ground: Trisha’s a devout Christian; I’m an atheist. I run my own business; Trisha no longer works outside the home. But there are no lulls, no awkward silences. Even after six miles, we joke we need a flow chart to keep track of all the topics we meant to discuss but ran out of time. Last month, we did our first away-race together—a scenic, challenging half-marathon relay–and our overnight getaway was loads of fun.
If my dad was alive, I’d tell him that, yes, this soul does select her own society—but sometimes it’s a joy to have someone in society choose her, too.
A reminder that we still have kindred spirits who flow in and out of our lives throughout our lives!
Beautiful story and a great encouragement for this relatively reclusive happy-to-run-solo woman!
I love this essay. I am also someone who has a lot of running friends, but I am (almost) always happy to add someone new to the list. These women who choose to share miles with me are so precious. I can and do run alone, but my running friends are the sisters I need to get through life.
This is a great example of runners finding what they have in common more than what divides us. <3