Running Squad
The sport of running is not for everyone.
It brings aches and pains, it's hard on the body and you often experience discomfort when you hit the wall. But it can be a rewarding pastime for those who stick with it, and it brings a sense of satisfaction along with health benefits and a kick ass physique.
I was a long-time member of our local running club and I attended sessions with almost religious dedication. It was the thing in my life that I enjoyed most. Work was mundane and home life was a drag.
We ran a few times each week, alternating between early morning and evening sessions and there was a longer run scheduled on Sundays. People came to whatever times suited them and the culture was very informal. We were mainly a social group - definitely no Olympians in our midst. The club had been going for decades, and some of us were long standing stalwarts. We had a mixed membership: young and old, men and women, and all levels of fitness. Everyone was welcome.
Our training routes were generally through the local streets, around the lake and amongst the college grounds - generally flat and safe which accommodated the different demands of the group.
I guess I used the camaraderie of squad to substitute for the lack of intimacy at home. My wife and I had drifted apart emotionally through the years. We lived together but really had very little in common and conversation was thin. I tried to get her interested in sports and running but she flatly refused.
"What woman would possibly be interested in that?" She was dismayed. "You'd get all hot and sweaty. Yuck! No thank you! You can keep your mad running for yourself and your dumb friends." I repeated invitations occasionally but she was never amenable.
Instead, she was more interested in watching TV, coffee with colleagues or drinks with the girls. She loved going shopping with similar minded women, I think for dresses, but I was never sure what they were actually shopping for. From time to time, she would even have weekends away with the girls, but I was never invited.
A Newcomer
At the end of one particularly hot summer, a petite young Asian woman arrived alone at our run squad and simply joined in when we set out for the warmup. I thought she must have been a local student because the college kids tend to start squad when they return from summer break. But it turns out I was quite wrong.
I noticed her because she looked out of place and a bit disoriented on the first day. She didn't look like much of a runner, carrying a little extra weight and endowed with a solid build. She wore a regular cotton tee shirt and gray sweat shorts. She didn't even wear runners - just casual canvas sneakers. To her credit, she made it to the end of the session, and then started coming to more.
After the first session, I thought she might have been one of the early dropouts. She was strong and had some fitness, but she was not
running
fit. I could tell that the early sessions were really hard for her as she puffed hard and had to walk the final segments back to base. The club has a week of free sessions before you need to join up, and when she turned up in the second week, I knew that she'd become a signed-up member. It's no guarantee that you'll stick with it, but it's the first step.
I wouldn't say that she was blessed with any special innate talent for running. But what she
did
have was perseverance and determination in spades. She attended every week and she just got better. She even began coming to multiple sessions, and her form and speed responded in kind.
By the end of the first month, she'd acquired some better running gear, following the trend of wearing tights and a crop top, along with proper running shoes. Under the guidance of our coach, her running posture improved significantly and her body rewarded her with better stamina and strength.
Our club is pretty friendly but being populated by amateurs, we lack any formal introduction processes. Whenever the Asian girl arrived, I would smile a greeting to her and she returned the gesture, but we had never actually spoken. Eventually I stepped up. I'd overheard her name in group conversations, and I even checked the sign-on register to confirm that I'd heard right.
"Josephine, right?" She looked surprised. "I'm Ev."
"Hi."
"Good to see you've joined our club. It won't be long and you'll be a leading the pack."
"I don't know about that," she replied. "I'm just looking to get a bit fitter."
"Well, running will do that for you," I declared, knowing from experience that you won't regret it if you stick with the sport. Trust the process and the results will follow.
Josephine
. I've always found it curious how Asian families come up with their western names. I'm sure that their names are entirely appropriate in their own language, but somehow the western names that they choose don't quite mesh. They choose names that are antiquated, or just out of fashion.
Joy, Wendy, Agatha. No-one in western countries choose those names anymore, but Asians seem to have an affinity for them. Maybe the name had some traction in France, but personally I'd never met another Josephine.
Not that I could really talk. Everett is a pretty unusual name, even for an older white guy. Everybody at squad simply called me Ev. In fact, newcomers didn't even know my full name, attested by the fact that many of them greet me as Evan. I didn't bother to correct them anymore.
"How are you finding the sessions Josephine?"
"It's good," she replied with a sigh. "Actually, it's tough. Really tough. I thought I'd be better at this. You make it look so easy. I'm trying hard to come to more sessions, but when I think about how much it hurts, sometimes I can't bring myself to leave the house." Her English was near perfect, with the obvious Oriental background, but her speech contained the twang of our local accent.
"Well, I think you're doing great," I encouraged.
"I just need a bit more motivation," she lamented. "A kick sometimes."
A thought came to me and I made the suggestion. I hoped it wasn't too forward or threatening to ask. "I drive here, so how about I pick you up every time that I'm coming to a session? That way you'll feel obliged to come because someone is waiting for you?"
"Really?" Her face lit up with enthusiasm "OK!"
As a result, we fell into a routine, where I'd call by her apartment each time I was on my way to training, and wait out front, and without fail she would appear at her front gate and we'd travel to squad together.
The trip from Josephine's apartment to run squad was only a short distance, so our time chatting was usually cut short. After a friendly greeting, we would always discuss our respective days. I never had much news to report, but I enjoyed listening to her.
I soon discovered that Josephine was not, in fact, a student. Rather, she worked in retail at a couple of local convenience stores for her livelihood, and she would often lament her dull work. I guess young people all went through that stage of life, working crap occupations for low pay before climbing a professional ladder. Even the grad students at squad seemed to work in cafes and bars, holding down part time jobs to fund their degrees.
Invariably the conversation would turn to running topics. She was always keen to learn anything to do with the sport and she would lap up every morsel I had to offer. Hints on nutrition, training programs, postures and drills - she listened to it all, and as the weeks and months went by, she put it all into effect as her running improved in leaps and bounds.
After nine months of dedicated training, she had blossomed as an athlete. When she ran it appeared almost effortless. She had a nice gait, quick cadence and a relaxed posture. And with every week she became faster and faster.
Soon enough Josephine burst through the 8 minute mile pace in the regular run sessions and she seemed capable of maintaining that pace for the long runs too. That kind of performance put her near the forefront of the women runners in the club, and she was knocking on the door of many of the quicker men too. Sometimes I had to put on a surge of extra effort to keep ahead of her when we were doing the speed sessions.
A few months after that, she had become one of our top women runners. By the end of training sessions, even intensive ones, she looked like she'd hardly exerted any effort at all. Her crop top betrayed a few sweat marks and her face had a glean of perspiration, but she was otherwise unflustered.
In the span of one short year she had transformed herself as a runner. She was the epitome of grace, with an effortless style, great a back-kick on the sprints and high knees to keep her motoring. She was a textbook runner for the middle distance.
She had transformed her body too. Her legs had developed into muscular and toned springs. Her calf muscles were pronounced and she exhibited hamstring muscles that generally hung loosely on her leg but flexed like an engine when she ran. She had lost weight, sporting a slender body with a flat tummy boasting visible abdominal muscles. But best of all, her ass was strong, round and bulging with glute muscles.
I had watched her evolve physically with her dedication to training. Throughout her journey, I loved to spend some of the training sessions running behind her, watching that hot ass in running shorts that fitted tightly in the crease of her behind. With every step, her butt muscles flexed and relaxed, and I loved to watch her running action. Her body would remain straight and true, her hips level and her legs working like pistons while her pony tail swished from side to side.
While Josephine's fitness had improved no end, there was still one curious unhealthy practice that she hung onto. At the very end of every training session, she would roll herself a thin cigarette, and slowly indulge in a smoke. I thought she'd let go of the habit, but despite my repeated warnings, she persisted.
I couldn't really talk, because I had my own vice, being addicted to caffeine. Without fail, I'd have a coffee after the morning sessions and I'd down a coke and maybe even an energy drink after the evening warm downs.
The brief chats after training and the short conversations on the drive to and from squad were not enough. Eventually, Josephine suggested that we go for lunch after the Sunday long run. We were finished squad by 10am, but we were always hungry, and turned up to whatever café or restaurant was open early enough to accommodate us.
