How did exercise get so tribal?
The past couple of weekends, you’d have found me in an unnatural element. And it’s been weird.
It’s also made me realise something about the social structure of exercise, the anthropology I never thought about.
Most weekends, I’ll be in the forest, running on trails or gravel roads.
I love the freshness of the air. The silence of the trees. The graunch of the track beneath your shoes.
The quiet conversations you can have with the mates running alongside.
But the past couple of weekends, I’ve headed out on my bike, as I give an injury time to recover. It’s nothing drastic, just a tender Achilles that has appreciated not doing the longer runs I’m used to doing on the weekend.
The appeal was twofold: the chance to get out and do some exercise, but also to catch up with friends.
The social aspect of running is important to me, and I thought riding would be a good substitute.
But snatched conversations, yelled over the wind, while concentrating on the road and the traffic aren’t quite the same.
Of course, there was the inevitable stop for coffee, as seems to be par for the course for cyclists, which provided a chance to chat.
But, still, I really missed the running, and not just because of the running itself. Frankly, I felt awkward.
It was like I’d got lost in the forest and somehow ended up in the wrong tribe. Riding along, I’d wave madly to runners I saw on the side of the road. It was like I was trying to get a message to them: ‘‘I’m one of you!’’
But most would run by, oblivious. ‘‘No, you don’t understand! I’m really like you – not this!’’
It was hopeless. I understood. I knew what it was like: A bike going past, on the other side of the road, was just another
I really missed the running, and not just because of the running itself. Frankly, I felt awkward.
vehicle, as far as a runner is concerned. You hardly even notice.
And so I rode on, feeling out of place.
Yet when my friends and I encountered other cyclists – often going past me – I didn’t feel like I belonged with them either. They looked ... different. They looked sleek. They looked smooth. I felt ... out of place. Take me back to the forest! That social dislocation in sports is something I hadn’t really thought about for a while.
I’ve been comfortable for so long, a part of a particular tribe. It’s often how we are as humans, right?
We end up in a groove, mostly interacting with the same circle of friends and family, finding comfort in the familiarity. Living in a bubble, as it were, when bubble meant something a bit wider than we’ve come to define it this year.
On the Dirt Church Radio podcast, my co-host Matt Rayment and I often talk about the fact that, yes, we focus on trail-running, but we’re a broad church.
Road runners, track runners, park runners, hey, come on in.
And though in the conversations we have with our guests, we stray beyond just running – you won’t hear much talk of time splits or pace – still, we’re runners talking to other runners.
Being on the bike has challenged my thinking. It’s good to feel part of a tribe. But it’s also good to stretch beyond that, to understand how others see the world.
Dirt Church Radio is not about to become Tarmac Church Radio. But, I am going to try to look beyond a bit more, to try to not feel so encumbered by the norms that come with identifying with a particular tribe.
Starting with the next time I’m running and I see a cyclist, I’ll be sure to wave.
Eugene Bingham and Matt Rayment are hosts of the trail running podcast Dirt Church Radio. Learn more at dirtchurchradio.com or get in touch via email dirtchurchradio@gmail.com