The Friday Ramble is quickly becoming an exclusively running-focused segment of mine. I didn’t intend for it to be that way, but I’m letting it take me where it takes me.
This morning I went for a run with a friend who lives in my neighborhood. It was 24 degrees with a real feel of 18. It was really, really cold, particularly in Brooklyn Bridge Park, where the wind off the river whips you in the face as you come around the piers. Definitely a bit of a return to the dog days of winter, although the sun and crisp, clean air made everything feel a bit better. That and the snow-free sidewalks.
This friend is a night-time runner, whereas I am a morning runner. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel slightly superior to him. How can he run at night, in the dark? How does he put off eating dinner for so long? During the pandemic I’ve started eating dinner at 5:30pm. Sometimes I eat before 5:00pm. I can’t imagine if I had a run hanging over my head throughout the day.
But we’re all different. One downside of running in the morning is that I’m noticeably slower – about 30 seconds to a minute slower per mile – and I usually have to work out a little bit of stiffness in my arms and legs before I’m comfortable. So he’s got me there.
At any rate, he made a pretty good point during our run, between complaints about the early wake up and frigid wind: “This has to go both ways. I run with you in the morning every once in a while, you run with me at night.” My superiority complex came out in full force. Me, run at night? Are you insane? What would I do in the morning? When would I eat dinner?
He’s right, of course. A running partnership is a two-way street. Particularly when we’re all just trying to make it through the coldest part of the year in one piece. I can run alone when it’s hot out. I don’t need to splash someone else with the sweat beading off my wrists. But in winter, we’ll run together. And I should give a little every once in a while.
The last thing I’ll say is that running with someone else always surprises me. I like to think of myself as relatively headstrong: When I make a plan to run, I do it on my own terms. I don’t like waiting around for someone else. But once we’re out there, all of that becomes irrelevant. It’s just nice to have someone keeping me company.