Crossing the Line
The Power of Connection
Perhaps you can relate: I’m an introvert. My household is packed with teenage boys and dogs, and I love and welcome their chaotic adventures, but the time I spend alone helps me recharge. Whether it ’s running, doing yoga or deep in a book with my dog by my side, being by myself gives me the energy to deal with other people.
And yet, doing anything alone all the time can get tedious. Even at my most introverted and content, when I pass a group of runners laughing and chatting, or line up behind them in our local coffee shop, I feel a twinge of envy.
A long-time Strava user, I received an invite from an acquaintance on the platform to join a local Facebook group that focused on running. Intrigued, I scrolled through the list and noticed several people I knew in the community. I clicked the accept button with no idea that such a small action would lead me to question my habits, take on strange new commitments, and embark on a peculiarly lovely journey.
I couldn’t bring myself to join a bunch of (mostly) strangers alone, but when they posted an invitation to our new local parkrun, I thought maybe I had found a group event I could handle. Parkrun sounded low-key enough that I could persuade my husband, Shawn, to join me as well.
Parkrun is a weekly, timed 5-km event that began in London, England in 2004 and spread across the U.K. and is now in 22 countries, including 44 parkrun events in Canada. It’s free for everyone, always. Parkrun is a household name in the U.K., and the founder of our local chapter, David Alexander (a transplanted Brit), says a Brit not knowing about parkrun is like a Canadian who’s never heard of Tim Hortons.
Our local event was held on beautiful trails only a few blocks from our house in Medicine Hat, Alta., and invited all levels of runners and walkers. Children, dogs and newcomers were all welcome. Shawn agreed to lace up with me, and we jogged to the trailhead.
That first parkrun completely changed the way I look at group running. Folks of all ages ran the marked course, stayed to cheer every adult, grandparent, child and dog, and then stayed to chat. I’m not a mingler and dread smalltalk, but after a speedy 5-km run and full of endorphins, I was happily chattering away to people I barely knew. When Shawn and I finally tore ourselves away, I had even signed up to volunteer occasionally.
Week after week, we showed up, delighted that such a large group of runners appeared on a Saturday, ice spikes on and poles in hand, even when temperatures reached -26 C. When I missed a weekly run due to trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon at a race in Vancouver, my social media was f looded with well wishes from my new running friends – and commiseration when I didn’t meet my goal.
My favourite place on a Friday night is still a cozy chair by the fireplace, reading or playing a board game with Shawn. I’ll never be the person who hunts for a running buddy for every (or even most) outings – far from it. But I’m now a sometime group runner, and the joy I find in my favourite pastime has only been heightened by my new community. When people are allowed to run together again, and my fellow runners and their children, spouses and dogs are setting out for a Sunday 10-km saunter through the Medicine Hat trails followed by a potluck, you can guarantee I’ll be there – heck, I might even volunteer to organize it.