Running in the Time of Coronavirus: How To Build Solidarity While We Run
How has running changed in a time of coronavirus? And how can we use our running habit to build solidarity, rather than pissing people off?
Races are cancelled, group running is on hold, and for many of us, there are restrictions placed on where, when, and how far we can run. In some places it’s no longer possible at all. Yet, in many places living under lockdown, it feels like there are more runners by the day. The continuing routine of running can be a comfort amid the general sense of crisis, but running has clearly also changed. This article is a follow up to my previous one (pre-COVID-19) discussing ‘Why You Should (Almost) Always Say “Hello” When Out Running’, and now I’d like to say why the social dimension of running is more important than ever.
To begin with, let me be completely clear that I have no medical training, and have nothing to say on that front. We should all be following reliable medical advice and adhering to the rules and recommendations in our own locality. There are plenty of personal trainers and physios who are currently unable to do their normal work, so now would actually be a great time to have a remote consultation with them for some personalised advice (paid, obviously). And there are already some great articles on the practicalities of running at a safe distance from others, such as these ones on Medium:
- How to Run Safely Amid Coronavirus Concerns
- Runners Share How They Are Social Distancing On Crowded Trails
- ‘10 Great Resources for Running During COVID-19 — The Running Philosopher’
But let’s assume that we can find a way to run safely: how is our personal relation to running changed now, and the way we relate to others in shared public spaces?
How has running changed?
Every runner has their own relationship with running, but here is my own example of how running has changed for me. All the races and events that I was preparing for are now cancelled, and while it’s disappointing that I’ll miss out on the fun of the events, I’m surprised to find that I’m perfectly happy to stop fretting about optimising training and chasing PBs for while. I now have different priorities: I want to maintain a general level of fitness while staying resilient to illness (so not pushing myself to the limit), and being especially careful to avoid injury. I don’t want to put myself out of action, and I definitely don’t want to have to call on professional medical help. Most of all, I’m glad to get out of the house, to enjoy the therapeutic benefits of regular running, and — from a safe distance — to see that the rest of society is still out there.
I’ve been surprised by just how much warmth I’ve felt from the people I pass on my runs, and how glad I’ve been to see other people. More than ever I’ve exchanged friendly, banal comments with passers-by about the weather, their dogs, the flowers or birds we’ve seen as spring finally arrives. We never talk about the particular difficulties that the crisis has caused us, but these few words are accompanied by a vague sense of solidarity. Perhaps it’s down to the anxiety of the whole situation, but it’s sometimes left me feeling quite emotional.
I’ve seen comments online about hostility towards runners, which is perhaps more of a problem in densely populated areas where keeping a safe distance is harder. But I haven’t experienced any of this myself, while running in a small town in the North of England. It’s also very noticeable how big the difference is between social interactions during the two main types of lockdown outing (for those of us not working outside the home), namely food shopping and exercise. The former has become a more stressful experience than normal, and social interactions are mostly civil at best. Meanwhile, our outings for exercise — activities carried out for our general well-being and not out of immediate practical necessity — have become that much more valuable, and one of the only times we can really enjoy seeing other people out and about.
I hope that other runners, in similar situations around the world, share this sense of pleasure. I’d like to offer some tips for experiencing it this way, and finally some thoughts on how our behaviour in these public interactions could actually be important for the way we deal with this crisis and, eventually, move on from it.
How not to piss people off
My previous article suggested some general ‘rules of engagement’ for maintaining good relations between runners and other users of public spaces. I would now add that we should keep in mind two things while running:
- How do I need to act to assure the safety of myself and others? This involves all the practicalities of keeping our distance, avoiding touching gates or traffic lights, etc.
- How do I need to act to make sure that other people feel comfortable and safe? This could involve a greater level of caution than the first point. For example, if I pass someone at a distance of 2 metres, we might both be mentally checking whether this distance is safe, but if we pass 3 metres apart, we don’t even need to give it any thought. If I breathe through my nose rather than panting heavily, it also puts people more at ease.
We need to achieve both these things as an absolute minimum for friendly, relaxed interactions with others. But my advice is to make a show of going above and beyond these two requirements. Forget any thought of whether some people aren’t doing enough. Act in a way that leads by example, and with small gestures that, more often than not, inspire gratitude. This gratitude, perhaps a nod or wave of thanks after you’ve gone out of your way onto the side of the road or trail, is a great foundation for a few moments of friendly interaction before continuing on your way. And if some people don’t acknowledge that you moved out of their way, just let it go. More than ever, you don’t know what sort of a day they’re having.
Why does public space matter?
But why would any of this matter, beyond providing us with a little more pleasure on our runs? In short, because the way we share public space with others is central to the fabric of society, and the present crisis is one that we have to face socially, collectively. A pandemic itself is a collective experience, a product of our closeness to one another on a global scale. Social distancing, our main tool for combating it, is a collective project which, in the absence of a sophisticated police state, relies on widespread compliance and public-spiritedness. And whatever traumas and practical problems this crisis eventually leaves in its wake, we’ll have to face them as a community as well as in our individual lives.
At present there seems to be a general willingness to make personal sacrifices for the common good, but will this be eroded as life under lockdown drags on, as the costs mount up, and as it becomes apparent that we’re not all facing the same sacrifices or suffering? We may be ‘all in it together’, but some of us are more ‘in it’ than others. There’s a possibility of our social interactions shifting towards resentment and fear of contagion. At the same time our relatively deserted ‘ghost towns’ can become unsettling, uncanny. There is a danger of developing a generalised agoraphobia, a fear of the agora itself, that public space that stands in for all our community and social relations.
I am obviously not saying that runners are as important as medical and key workers, who are currently doing the most critical and pressing work. But we do have it in our power to nudge social relations in a more positive direction, to help maintain a sense of solidarity. We may have to be physically distanced from each other for some time, but we also remain connected to each other through our shared public spaces. Perhaps I am overly optimistic about what we can achieve, but I hope you’ll give it a little thought when you’re out on your next run.
