A Subculture

Tattered running shoes are stacked upon each other in my bedroom like crayons. They line the wall of my closet, and there’s also a few pairs sticking out from under the skirt of my bed. The majority of them have been worn to a pulp, but I keep them around. Probably because we’ve been so many places together. They’ve seen moist, foggy 7 a.m. morning runs, and the grunge of muddy trails after a night’s rain. They’ve made friends with asphalt roads, stiff concrete, and grass paths. They’ve traveled miles and miles under my feet, and have been personal witnesses of my own weaknesses, strengths, hopes, and aspirations.

But I’m not alone. For a nice chunk of my life, I’ve been a part of a sub-culture called, “runners.” If someone were to ask me to unveil a handful of facts about myself, “being a runner” would most likely come out in that handful of facts. Being a runner may seem just like a sport, but it’s far more than that. It’s a lifestyle. Whether we own one or fifty pairs of running shoes, we’ve all used them to travel some distance, to run somewhere. Some travel further than others, but no matter the distance, every runner runs for their own reason. That’s the beauty of it.

Weather is no excuse. Drops of rain don’t absolve us from making our way out onto the roads, and the appeal of staying wrapped up in our warm beds on cold, bitter mornings can’t justify skipping a run. Every run is an adventure, whether we recognize it or not. Even if one runs the same route every day in the same shorts and the same stride, they’re bound to come across something new once in awhile. Stray dogs, creeps in cars, road work, road kill, fellow runners, pedestrians, and... cyclists. Whether cyclists never learned how to share, as children, or they just think they own the road, apparently, two wheels are far more superior to two legs.

But unlike many other sports, the equipment that running requires is minimal. Just a pair of running shoes, and the arms and legs we were born with, are all we need. Well, that, and our brains. People tend to think that we runners are mentally insane. “How can you actually enjoy running?” I get this a lot. Honestly, I just love the sport and the feeling it gives me. But the real answer to that question reveals itself when I’m out on a run, and I cross paths with another runner. Our exchange of salutations always reminds me that there are others out there on the roads or sand or trails, who are just simply out in the world, doing what they love.