Most often, it is not the workout that gets us out of bed in the morning. It is the friendships and unspoken bonds of those counting on us to show up.
~Author Unknown
I gave birth to four sons in six years, so our home was chaotic. My days were a haze of diapering, feeding, and napping. I missed many aspects of life before kids and I craved adult interaction. But more than anything, I yearned to slide into my familiar running shoes and jog along the trails. However, finding time to run proved challenging.
Then, I came upon Emily, an acquaintance and mother of four young girls, in the frozen-food section of the grocery store. “I just went for a run,” she announced while dropping frozen peas into her grocery cart.
I barely contained my surprise. “How on earth did you run?”
“I woke up early and ran at 5:30,” she responded. “There’s a whole group that meets in the morning to run. You should run with us.”
She had said 5:30 — in the morning. Clearly, we weren’t connecting. I gazed at her with a look of concern. Did she really expect this sleep-deprived mama to get up even earlier than usual?
“Just try it,” she coaxed. “I promise you’ll love it.”
With nothing to lose but sleep, I set my alarm clock for 5:10 a.m. The next morning, the alarm blared too soon. I jolted out of bed and slipped on my running clothes. With bleary eyes, I drove to the trail and pulled into the parking lot. Under a blanket of darkness, I eyed five women huddled together. I tumbled out of the car and lumbered toward the group.
Emily made introductions. Minutes later, the group surged forward and fell into step. The conversation meandered along the trail. We were all young mothers facing similar joys and challenges. Despite being strangers, I immediately sensed a kinship.
“Has anyone tried sleep training a baby?” inquired Marie around the first mile marker.
For the next few miles, the group chatted about nap times and sleep schedules. Gwen shared her recommendations on potty training. At mile 5, Maggie delivered a funny story. The group erupted into laughter. Less than an hour later, we arrived back at the parking lot. In the span of a run, these strangers morphed into friends.
It’s been almost a decade since that first run. Most mornings, the group still meets at the same trailhead. Over the years, a few women have left the group due to moves and injuries. Some fresh faces have joined the ranks. Core members arrive faithfully at the trail.
We run in all four seasons. In the winter, we bundle in layers and brave the snow and frigid conditions. In the summer, we battle humidity and heat. It seems friendship makes any sort of running weather bearable.
Our children have grown older. We are now mothers of teenagers. On runs, our conversations center on driver’s licenses, college admissions, and prom dates. We bemoan screen time and mouthy teens, while we celebrate scholarships and newfound independence.
“Any recommendations on a hairdresser for prom?” Nicole asked the group recently on a run.
Running friends tossed out a few names while jogging along the trail. The chatter drifted between dresses, tuxedo rentals, and bargain shoes.
Over runs, we’ve cried alongside women battling family problems, deaths, and discord. We’ve run wearing birthday tiaras and laughed until our sides ached. We have trodden upon every topic under the sun and still have more words to say.
Suzanne’s youngest child just graduated from high school. On a run, she expressed a gamut of emotions. The trail provided a perfect venue to share the sweet sadness of letting go.
In a few more years, we’ll all face the inevitable shift of life. Our children will fly the nest. I imagine those runs will become even more precious.
With each step, we cling to the women we have run alongside for years. We don’t charge toward a finish line, since none exists for this group. The miles lead us to a better destination: each other.
— Rebecca Wood —