Social Running

Unlike the name suggests, social running is not an activity where you run, meet new people, and socialise. It is a battle between the mind and the body, the expectation and the reality, the ego and the true self, all while forcing a smile through the tears to not let anyone know that you’re dying inside

The website said, ‘no matter if you are a beginner runner or you've been running for a while, we encourage you to sign up, come along and join in the fun!’ It was the mention of ‘fun’ that lured me in. Who doesn’t like to have fun?

I showed up later than I would have liked but still early. I thought I was a beginner runner as I had not run in over a decade, last doing so on Sports Day’s 800m race where I miraculously came 5^th place in Year 10. After the race, I collapsed in the field surrounded by a few girls in my year who were checking to see if I was okay. I was not okay. My heart was beating out of my chest and I was seeing stars. The only way I would be going anywhere would be in an ambulance. I shuddered at the thought and reminded myself that I was not that same person. I had signed up for a half-marathon back in February which would take place on July 18^th. It then being early May, I figured it was a good time to start running and I would prove to myself that the girl who was gasping for air 12 years prior was not the woman who had run for 20 seconds straight no problem prior to this. I was ready

The leader of the pack gathered us all to inform us of the route we would be taking, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was too busy seeing if I was the only newbie. Everyone else seemed to be talking to one another so I assumed so. I scanned the company and noticed that some people were a bit older. “I’ve got this” I thought, feeling confident that I wouldn’t be at the back but would instead be zooming from person to person, making new acquaintances

After the speech, we gathered outside ready to start. I thought we might do some stretches to prepare ourselves but there was no time for that. We were off! I decided to keep to the back just to play it safe. 1 minute of running and I was doing okay, already feeling far removed from my 15-year-old self. Perhaps this was the ‘fun’ the website was referencing

2 minutes in and my arms were heavy. 3 minutes in and my back was sore. By the 5^th minute my lungs were near collapse and my knees were screaming at me to stop. My cardiovascular system was betraying me once again. The rest of the group looked nothing more like ants in the distance. The back runner’s commitment to the role prevented her from going on without me. I was embarrassed, humiliated, and full of shame. Yet I kept on… for 30 more seconds until my body decided that it no longer wanted to obey me

I was gasping for air like a fish but decided to alternate between running and walking to not slow the back runner more than I already had. Going downhill was no problem, but the uphill runs were what nearly killed me. I had never been so close to a heart attack

“How much longer?”

“What is a beginner runner?”

“Maybe I can make a quick getaway?”

These were the questions that took turns at the forefront of my mind. But my pride forced me to ignore them and I somehow made it to the halfway mark where everyone was waiting and cheering for me as I hobbled over. It was time to take a group picture. I have thankfully never seen this picture and hope I never do

If my mortification was not already enough, the back runner used the short break to ask another runner to switch with her. I don’t blame her. She was there to run, not totter along next to me at an awkward pace between pathetically slow jogging and near crawling

The break was not long enough as I had yet to regain all my consciousness before we were off again. “How long have you been running for?” I asked the new back runner in a bid to be more than strangers. His response was impressive as I learned that he had been running for years and was recently returning from an injury. When the question was returned, I informed him that I hadn’t ran in over a decade to which he responded with a look of alarm. I decided not to mention that I was planning on completing a half-marathon in a couple of months and tried to salvage the situation by saying that my motivation for running was to have legs like Megan Thee Stallion. He did not know how to respond

We took a shortcut which the back runner assured me was more like the 5k I had unintentionally signed up for and had we followed the rest of the pack, the official route would be closer to 6k. I was relieved to take the shortcut and thought it would be a good way to redeem myself as I was now technically at the front of the group. I wanted to maintain my lead but no more than a few minutes in was I being passed and encouraged to keep going by my peers. I thanked them for their kind words which had the opposite effect, providing a further hit to my already wounded pride

After what felt like hours, we were finally approaching the starting point again. The back runner urged me to give it one last push without stopping, reminding me that I wanted those Megan Thee Stallion legs. I really did want those legs and so I obliged, staggering and panting like a hyena until I made it

Once back, I wanted to grab my things and get out of there as fast as I could without making eye contact with anyone. But much to my disappointment, everyone was too kind and congratulated me on (barely) completing my first run, preventing me from make my quick escape. They even encouraged me to come back the following week. I smiled and thanked them as I made my exit

Today is Sunday 30^th August and I have not been back since