While browsing my Instagram, I came across a running group that meets every Thursday evening at a bar five minutes from my apartment. Somehow in between delivering a constant supply of Golden Retriever puppy videos and pictures of Jennifer Lopez, the social media app had missed my clear aversion to group activities.
But I followed them. I studied their posts closely: some running, some talking, some running and talking at the exact same time. I do not like to run and talk at the same time.
Their posts kept showing up. More and more. I wasn’t liking any of their photos. Did Instagram know something about me that I did not want to reveal—that despite my need to hide alone in my apartment, I really wanted to be part of a group that had that much fun? In each photo, it seemed their smiles were growing. Big, bright, white, giant, lips peeled back, sweat dripping, running smiles. I hated them, and I loved them. I wanted to be them.
See, I’m an introvert to the extreme. I choose Netflix over parties. I enjoy reading a book alone instead of having brunch with, ugh, people. I prefer conversations with dogs to small talk with humans.
I recently left my corporate job for the unpredictable world of freelance writing. I was not prepared for how isolating it would feel to work alone, with nothing more than my scary brain to keep me company. When these Pint Striders, a nod to their mutual loves of running and beer, popped into my social feed, I recognized it as the magical bungee cord that could pull me out of my crushing and unintentional dive into social isolation.
Okay, She Runs to Reclaim Her Identity After Assault. You can do this. People aren’t that bad.
I wrote the details in my planner for the upcoming Thursday. It stared back at me through all of Wednesday. I had Netflix to watch. So I skipped it.
The next week, on Sunday, I wrote the details in my planner again. Then I accidentally (I swear) ran on Thursday morning. You shouldn’t train too much, I told myself. I didn’t go.
Contrary to popular belief, introverts do Running Was His Life. Then Came Putins War not do things, and we’re great at coming up with new ways to stay stuck to our couches until our life-force has been sucked straight out of our bodies.
A few weeks later—extroverts, give us time—I was at a breaking point. I knew I needed to see life beyond my houseplants. As I prepared myself to meet this club, I remained in a remarkable state of denial, a tactic I highly recommend.
Oh, I’m just putting on my running clothes. Oh, I’m just getting in the car for a drive. Oh, I’m just white-knuckling the steering wheel.
But when I arrived at the bar, the ruse was up. I found a group of 30 other runners standing on the outside patio, and they looked just like they had on Instagram: impossibly happy, athletic, and apparently already friends with each other. I mentally prepared myself to stand alone in a corner, pretend-texting on my phone and scoping out different escape routes.
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“Hi,” a woman said to me. “Are you new here?” I nodded, suddenly remembering something about runners: They are the nicest people you will ever meet.
Just like that, I was one of them. It’s hard to describe the feeling of knowing that you belong, but an introvert feels it instantly because it occurs so rarely.
The question of my newness would be repeated no less than five times before the run itself even started. Each time I would learn a new name before that unbelievably friendly runner passed me onto another unbelievably friendly runner. I barely had half a second to myself. But I wasn’t drained afterwards like I usually am after forced human conversation. Miraculously, talking while running ended up being… not terrible.
I’ve attended the group runs almost every Thursday, and it’s now the anchor in my work week. It doesn’t matter if my client-load is overwhelming or if I’m simply feeling lonely, I know that group is waiting for me right when I need it most. It also doesn’t hurt that my mile-time has improved by a minute and a half.
Sometimes I show up and the people I’m closest to aren’t there. These end up being my favorite weeks. I watch running bring strangers together all over. It’s the magic of the sport that my introvert badge had always kept me from experiencing.
