My Running Club

As much as I like to credit the weather with my consistency in running (you know, except this summer of perpetual illness), another part is equally, if not more responsible: my local running club.

For the $30 family rate membership, Matt and I gain free entry to all but a handful of the local races.  The races come with none of the modern frills like medals or t-shirts, but we get a bib number, a finish photo, and entered into the club circuit.  It is similar to what I understand the running clubs to be like in the 1980s.  All you get as a reward at the finish line is the thrill of running your best, and probably some watermelon or fresh coffee, depending on the season.  Those are the tangible benefits to the club.

What I find even more valuable than the free races is the camaraderie.  Since I’m smack in the middle of the baby-making age group, most of my competition comes from the 50-55 year old man category.  As they gracefully run into their senior years, nothing makes them more motivated than being passed by a girl that just this spring, was minutes behind them in the finish results.  They aren’t slowing at all, but I’m getting faster.  That makes them pretty killer competition.  

Two men in particular, Barry and Bob, keep reminding me of the one great race I’ve had this year: Dow’s Prairie, where they both couldn’t catch me at the end.  Ever since then, I’ve caught them looking over their shoulder when they hear someone behind them.  I’ve suddenly gone from the invisible, non-threat; to the person they “have to beat”.  This motivates me even more to hit the races.  These men, and others, notice when I have an off day and when I am feeling great.  If I miss a race, they ask where I’ve been.  If I’m slower, they ask if I’ve been sick (yessssss! Omg, yes!!) or hurt.  No course is flat, so times rarely matter.  But placing ahead of so-and-so is what we bust our butts for.  

We get invitations to runner nerd it up together at 3am on a Sunday morning to watch the Olympic men’s marathon on live TV.   

We find new running buddies (yaaaaaay! Tanya and Danny).  We trade secrets on self-treating injuries.

The club isn’t just for competitive people.  We have a solid group of walkers and beginners too.  The youngest regular racer is about 10 years old, the oldest is 85 and have everybody in between. Most of the front-racers can be found clapping and cheering at the finish until the last person comes over the line.

Thank you, SRRC, for shaping me into a competitive athlete.  I’m not a front-runner, but within my solid group of 8:00-milers, I never feel like I’m without somebody to challenge my limits.