Story originally published HERE.
With sweat dripping from my temple, sun beating on my face, and lungs constricting from the strain of the workout, there was one thought in my mind: wow, I wish I had someone here to pull me along.
But I didn't. So, I slogged - although that may be misleading, as I did in fact hit my paces - through the rest of my workout. Alone.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about how being surrounded by others pushes you to greater heights. And that is true - as evident in my need (all right fine, desire) for a team to get me through the workout.
Sometimes, though, being part of a pack isn't possible. Time, distance, coordination efforts, restrictions, and more can get in the way of meeting up with others. And that's okay. While togetherness is a big part of the sport, running is also a solitary pursuit. The echo of only one breath in your ear, the pounding of only one set of feet on the trail, the swing of only two arms; running solo can be just as powerful as running together.
When you're alone, as much as it may hurt, you listen. To your body and what it's telling you. To nature. To the nagging voice in your head that you must callus yourself to.
"Going solo means you can run where you want and when you want," wrote Trisha Reeves in a post on Active.com.
Solo runs allow you to be in control - not only of the when and where as Reeves points out but also of the what and how. You get to choose your pace - faster when you feel like it and slower when you need it. You can stop to catch your breath.
The freedom allows you to tailor every run to your needs, which in turn helps to avoid injury and burnout.
In solitude, you experience all parts of the run. There is nothing to detract from being in nature, of doing something for yourself, of the sun (or rain or snow) on your face. That's the joy of running alone - the ability to just be. There is no concern for anything other than placing your feet one in front of the other. Your mind wanders along with your body.
Sometimes, it wanders back to pain. Going alone means there is nothing to distract from the pain of pushing your legs over a hill or the burn of your lungs as you rocket down a trail.
"Running solo is more difficult mentally," wrote Reeves, "but you can learn to cope with a challenge, get better at testing your limits, and ultimately become a stronger, prouder runner."
In solitude, strength is learned.
By the time I finished my solo workout, I was exhausted. The first word I wrote in my journal about the run:hard. The brunt of every step had fallen onto me.
But I also recognized what it did for me. I listened to what my body told me my pacing should be and finished despite the voice in my head arguing against doing so. I enjoyed the sunshine on my face and the gravel under my feet. I developed fortitude by callusing myself to that annoying voice that whispered I wasn't strong enough.
While solo runs may not be the most glamorous, they afford you time - to run how you need, to get to know your body, and to develop grit. And that is beautiful.
Callin Naddy is a Rocky Mountain High alumni, currently pursing degrees in journalism and communication at Augustana University. To read more from her, visit her Blog.