Taking. And Giving.
I invest a lot in my running.
And, yes, running shoes cost and race registrations cost, but I’m actually talking about my time and my energy, which are quite a bit more important to me than money. I run three to four times per week, and I have at least one day of cross-training too. Even more significantly, I think about running. A lot. Heck, I even write about it.
So I invest a lot in my running.
MY running.
The thing of it is, though, other people do too. The events that give my training focus, that motivate me to get out there three to four times per week, take a lot of effort to stage. Hours and hours and hours. Planning and publicizing, arranging for medals and t-shirts and whatever other shiny objects that capture the attention of runners, stocking aid stations, setting up the course and the start and finish areas, and then tearing the whole thing down when it’s over.
The race director is always a godsend, but so are the volunteers. Almost all of the labor at running events is done by people who get nothing but maybe a t-shirt for the time and energy they expend. And while they may know a few people who run, volunteers may never again see most of the runners who benefit from their efforts.
Talk about the kindness of strangers.
So what do I owe this community of generous souls who make it possible for me to stay fit and accomplish goals I set for myself? “What do I owe others” is a good question to ask generally, particularly in this time of global division and anger, but setting all that aside it’s also very relevant to our smaller community of runners.
I like to think I pull my weight in whatever I do. I really don’t want to be that guy who’s always taking and never giving, and there might be times that I overcompensate to make sure I’m not. But in the twenty years I’ve been running I haven’t spent much time handing out water cups or emptying trash cans or running cords to power timing mats.
Until recently anyway.
I’ve tried to be more conscious of my contributions to the people around me since I moved to this city where I know no one. Though it’s the second-largest city in the state, Missoula has a population of just 75,000, so there are fewer people to do everything that needs to get done. So we all need to give a little more than we’re used to doing.
I’m not a particularly outgoing fella right out of the gate, so helping in small ways is how I usually start, and our local running club makes it easy to volunteer. So I’ve lined and loaded trash cans for the marathon in June, handed out bibs for the 4-mile downtown Roots Run in August, and helped set up the starting area and expo seating for the Fierce Fab 5K last weekend. The hardest part for this introvert in every instance was introducing myself to the people who could tell me what I needed to do.
My volunteer experience is admittedly limited, but my impressions are that about half of the runners appreciate my presence, and about half take it for granted. I don’t begrudge the second half; it’s likely how I thought about — or rather didn’t think about — volunteers in the first few years I ran. I was focused very narrowly (very selfishly?) on my experience and especially my results. I wasn’t hostile, but those volunteers were just props in my story. I wasn’t conscious of them beyond the very specific things they were doing for me.
I don’t know when I began to value volunteers. But as I raised my gaze beyond my own navel (metaphorically speaking of course — it’s impossible to run staring at your own belly!), I eventually did see other people enabling my accomplishments. And that realization moved me. We all like to feel like we’re important enough that other people will sacrifice for us. And given my predilection for pulling my own weight, I began to think how I might be able to help other runners achieve their goals.
And isn’t that how any community is supposed to work? We’re all in this together, so why not lend a hand?
I wish I could say I get an endorphin rush from helping out at running events, but I don’t get that even from running. What I really get from volunteering is a sense of accomplishment from doing a simple task well. And a sense of dutiful obligation repaid. And mostly a joy rooted in seeing people accomplish goals they’ve set for themselves. Yes, I’m one of those guys who puddles up when he sees someone intent on finishing an effort that is very clearly hard for them. Striving is us at our most noble — and our most vulnerable — and witnessing it touches me.
I don’t know the proper ratio for volunteering versus participating in running events. I’ve run two events this year and volunteered at three. I want to continue to run in events, and I want to continue to volunteer. I trust it to find its own balance, since my life is richer both taking and giving.
