So you may recall the pity-party I threw for myself a few weeks ago, after an attempt to join a run club. Determined not to be an awkward, anti-social runner (slash human) forever, I tried my luck, with the urging of a friend, at another group. Apparently everyone gets a high-five at the end, and they drink beer together. And wear matching t-shirts. What mythical land is this? Cambridge, it turns out.
I laced up my running shoes, drove across the river, and hoped for a more positive experience. Would this group really be as inclusive, friendly, and motivating as they claimed? I mean, that's what the last run club touted , and we all know how that turned out.
The high-fives began even before the run, with a group photo. A group photo. Then the organizer welcomed us, first timers and regulars, gave brief pep talk. Wave to fellow runner, give them a thumbs up. We're all runners. She pointed out the leads and the caboose. A caboose? So that means even the last person, the slowest of the bunch, wasn't alone? Even they deserved a running buddy? Is this what a running club can be?
I've been twice now, and both times, I have been the.last.person.to.finish. I'll admit that the first week was a struggle. The run was hard, and being last (even though I had 3 cabooses with me that night!), well, kind of sucked. Last night, I felt less self-conscious about it (and didn't apologize to the caboose for being slow), but it's something I need to work on, to get over. Honestly, no one but me seemed to care or be bothered by my slow(er) pace. Everyone was so nice, which made me realize that I'm the asshole, I'm the one being a jerk to me. Note to self: stop being a jerk.
Someone has to be last, right? The one upside of this is that I get all high-fives The high-fives are real. So is the beer.
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