I recently had the bright idea to sign up for a 10K run.
Actually, I’ll start at the beginning.

I started a new job a couple of years ago, and in April, they announced they’d be starting a walk/run club.
I know, I know — those two things don’t really exist together because there’s always a bit of tension between the runners and the walkers. There’s this lingering belief from the runners that they must encourage the walkers to run.

And on the other side, the walkers always feel that pressure to run — even though they were assured they wouldn’t have to.

Then there’s me: I try to walk my own run (the runners will get that joke… I hope).

Somewhere along the way, I learned that group activities often leave a lot to be desired. Always have an exit plan or a distraction that allows you be left alone unless you want to be part of the group. A book used to work great — for the run/walk club earphones do the tricks.

Fast forward — the walk/run club got a little more serious, and eventually the season ended. Then the following year, I was encouraged to run a marathon.

I thought, “Why not?”

When I excitedly told my sister that I was running a marathon, she was shocked.
“You’re running 42K?” she asked.
“Noo, it’s 10K., I proudly told her”
“That’s not a marathon,” she replied.
“Huh? What do you mean?” – Apparently, a marathon is an actual distance and not just a catch-all word for “a really long run.” There went my Olympic dreams.

My first 10K actually went pretty well — I managed to run about 7 of the 10 kilometers. But the second year? I’d been busy.
The work run club was no longer active, and I’d taken a break from the gym for various reasons. I signed up knowing I was just going to walk the whole thing.

I can honestly say I didn’t prepare at all. But as race day got closer, I started to think: maybe I could run a little bit?

Then came the additional pressure: how can I start this run just walking?

So, to save face, I started out running.
Roughly 500 meters in, I realized my body was not ready at all. I knew I had to honour that. I could hear Adriene’s voice in my head — find what feels good, listen to your body.

And so I did. I slowed down to a walk.
That’s when I started paying attention — and observed all the personalities that show up at a 10K run. So here they are:

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1. The Friend-Follower – “Whyyyy did I do this? I just want to be in bed scrolling… but I didn’t want to be left out.”
2. The Flopper – sends text: “Hey, I won’t be coming today because insert excuse here.”
3. The Baby – cries from all the noise “Whyyy am I here? Where’s my juice box? Why isn’t YouTube working?”
4. The Pigeons – I still don’t get it. Why don’t they just fly? It makes no sense.
5. Man in the Range Rover – “I have a meeting on Bay Street. Why are all the roads closed??”
6. Runner 1 – “How fast am I going? Can I beat last year’s time? What about [insert arch-nemesis]?”
7. The Professional Runner – “Why do I even bother? Most people here are so inexperienced.”
8. Walker 200 – “Favkkkkk why did I do this?” Looks back to check if anyone is behind them.
9. The Group Runners – “Has anyone seen Michelle? I swear she was just here. We need to take a selfie!”
10. The Influencer Runner – “What’s the right hashtag for this? I want to look flushed but not sweaty. Wait… are we actually doing the whole race? I thought we were just going live at the start and end.”

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Those were the thoughts I had during the run.
Honourable mention to the pregnant woman with a push chair who almost fell trying to overtake a slower runner. I won’t lie, I had to laugh — because if I hadn’t walked, I wouldn’t have caught all of this.

By the time I started writing these down, I had already walked nearly 7K.

Now I’m wondering: what will my thoughts be next year… and which runner will I be? 

This blog post was edited using ChatGPT