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Running Friends are the Best Friends


Keep Running Girl

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Even if you’ve never met.

I had just gotten home from a long day at the office. Another day, another 86 cents.  Old hurts and old dramas were bubbling to the surface on the family group text.  Me, always being a woman of opinions, had thoughts on the subject.  The day was weighing on me.

It was my partner’s late night and the house felt dark.  I poured a glass of wine and called my best friend.  He is going through some stuff and has been looking for a fight.  My tether was short, I had some thoughts on the subject, so last night he found one.

I sat on the couch after, second guessing myself about my family, about my friends, about the things that lead me here.  The thing no one tells you about being a person of opinions, is how very time consuming it is to second and third and fourth guess yourself.  It’s exhausting how much work it takes to make yourself seem somewhat confident.

Then my phone buzzed.  The message was a game of telephone but the point had made its way to my pocket: someone was saying nice things about me. 
 

And my heart felt happy and my home felt lighter and I decided to put away my second guessing for the evening.

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Garbo, if you make me cry like this one more time I may have to put you back in Loop jail. 

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3 hours ago, garbanzo a gogo said:

A few incarnations ago, I lived in a little town in the hill country of Tejas. I would meet up every Sunday morning in San Gabriel Park with a couple of other guys to go for the weekly long run. We called ourselves the San Gabriel River Runners, a club that ebbed and flowed, but was basically the three of us.

I was an environmentalist left wing zealot journalist save the world vegetarian ultraliberal. One of my companions was an average older working guy. The other owned a rock quarry next to the highway, constantly digging an ever-growing gash in the beautiful countryside. He flew his own plane, drove a Mercedes, was crazy rich. Pretty much everything I hated.

But here's the weird thing. On Sunday mornings, he was just another runner. Old shoes, goofy shorts and shirts, enthusiasm for suffering. We would run in the heat and snow and rain, and then go to the little town's only McDonald's for pancakes. He was a genuinely nice guy. We disagreed on some things, but we had that common ground -- the love of running. I never saw him outside of those Sunday morning outings, so to me he was always just a runner. 

I think that's why runners make the best friends. You start out with something you both believe in and passionately love. It's the perfect common ground to build a relationship on, to find out people can have different beliefs than you without hating them. In a world that has become so divisive and full of hate, running allows a sense of community and love to sneak in through the road less traveled.

I think the world would be a better place if we looked a little harder to see what we have in common, and less to see what drives us apart.

 But then wine seems like a good option also ...

I have opinions on this!  :P

And wine, thankfully.

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Just now, Keep Running Girl said:

I have opinions on this!  :P

And wine, thankfully.

Wait no. I am going to share them, a little.  
 

Part of what I loved about the old Loop was that it was what you said in blog form. All of us loved to run.  Could stand on that common ground and share our ups and downs.  
 

Then, well, you know… 

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So much hurt inside all of the circles of my life in the last few years. Would be such a comfort to have a safe haven from that again.

A thought: Remind people that a place like this is still here if they want to come.

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1 hour ago, Dave said:

So much hurt inside all of the circles of my life in the last few years. Would be such a comfort to have a safe haven from that again.

A thought: Remind people that a place like this is still here if they want to come.

I’m off social. The best I can do is remind people who are already here.

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Of course, most of the people here only read. But at least they're safe.

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