A Runner Knows

I am guilt-free.  My husband is out golfing, the cats are sleeping and there's nothing but the sound of my fingers on my keyboard.  All I have done is feed the cats, surf Twitter, and eat breakfast this morning.  It's already 33C with the Humidex, so a run is out of the question, I'm off early Friday - I shall run before I party with the Babes that night.

The Babes are the Running Babes.  The Tribe was thrown out there a few times, but that didn't suit and since we're mostly girls the Babes fit (sorry Johnny, Eric and Dom, but you get lumped in with "Babes"!)  We just kind of came together at the Running Room.  We run, we chat, we drink coffee and other over-priced, high calorie drinks, and congratulate each other on our successes.  Strangely enough, we don't seem to concentrate on the failures.  Admittedly there are very few, but when they do crop up, we work through them and empathize, offering support and looking on the bright side.  It's a very cool group.  Until recently, I couldn't tell you much about the other Babes, and they probably couldn't tell you much about me.  It's not about where you live, who you know or the other surface shit that we seem to live in day-to-day.  It's about how we felt on a run, if we're excited about a new job, what we're working towards next.  Forget the stats, demographics and numbers.  The only numbers that count with the Babes are what your chip time was and what time you want to get together for a run.  It's a separate little group that doesn't cross with co-workers or family and that you can just throw your two cents about anything into.  It's not exclusive, it's inclusive and there are very few things that strive to do that let alone achieve it.  It's unofficial and friendly, I'll bet there are a few that aren't even aware they are considered Babes.  When you see each other coated in sweat, hair plastered to your head, stains in places that would completely mortify most people, and you can still hug, pat on the back and smile at each other you are a Babe.

Runners accept each other at their absolute worst.  Exhausted, hungry, sweaty, freezing, weak, insecure, cramped, injured, and sometimes at the most honest, awkwardly human moments.  My personal favourite was a story involving an emergency pit stop.  During a race on a rainy day, a runner stopped to pee in the bush, but her shorts and underwear were soaked and she could only get the shorts up, not the underwear.  A fellow runner that she had just recently met noticed her awkward gait and asked what was wrong.  When she finished explaining, he offered to help and simply reached down the back and yanked the offending underwear back up.  All of this just before the next water station!

I've told the runners in my current running clinic that there are no bad moods at the starting line.  What I hope they've discovered on their own is the support that comes with being a runner.  You are never alone out there.  When other runners pass you, either on foot or by car, they are rooting for you.  They understand the compulsion and probably wish they were out there with you in the stinky, sweaty, salt-stained throes of support that comes with being a Runner.