Grins on the Run

Friday, I did something almost unheard-of in the greater Boston running community: I smiled at another runner.

I've spent 6 years bopping along the banks of the Charles with all the students, with no hint of collegiality. Even running pregnant, I only had one (1) warm encounter with other runners: a group of masters' runners on an early morning run in Davis Square smiled encouragingly as my 7-months pregnant and training for a 5K self bounced by. (Though I did get occasional encouragement from hard-core cyclists and homeless men.)

Normally, we do not make eye contact, but treat every "easy" day as a race. As I progressed through pregnancy, I mentally "raced" to pass first lanky Harvard boys, then women my own age and size, then 40-something moms pushing double running strollers, before finally giving up and racing the clock, just aiming to run a negative split (even if I was doing 12-minute miles).

But Friday, I found myself jogging towards another runner -- she was even young, pretty, and out-pacing me -- and smiling. Maybe it was a vicarious thrill at seeing a woman who felt at home in her body, who had free time to run, who was kicking it the way I did a year ago. Or maybe it was my new-found maternal instinct, which seems to apply to anyone under the age of 20, proud to see this young woman genuinely enjoying and excelling at running, rather than miserably punishing her body to justify another cookie. But in any case, I smiled at her. And damned if she didn't smile back at the weary-eyed woman beeping her watch to walk.

In any case, it was enough to inspire me to finally put up the blog I'd been contemplating. As hard as face-to-face companionship is to find among Beantown runners, I know I'm not alone in this sense that running is my home turf.