Why We Run #23: A Group That Runs Together, Drinks Together (Or Something Like That)

Kase Johnstun says he runs for the camaraderie and honesty that can only be found in the brutality of those long miles together.

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The Good Men Project Sports asked Why We Run?

In this feature series, we share your answers.

This is contributor Kase Johnstun’s.

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I run alone, and have always ran alone, for the same many reasons that other runners have written about: I love the solitude, the grasp at that one moment in the day that is completely my own; the ins and outs of breath and the pounding of feet make me feel fully corporeal, rhythmic, and sentient in this life when other tasks feed the zombie-like life we fall into at times during the day; like many others, I use long, solo runs to figure things out, dipping into the meditative to reach a clarity that can’t be found in front of a computer screen, most recently engaging in the (10×10) 100-miles-in-ten-days challenge to decipher, unpuzzle, and mentally redraft a massive, and very necessary, revision of a novel.

 Since I laced up my first shoes, pulled up my drawstring sweatpants, and walked out into the cold for my first mile in 1987, just a young kid following his older brother into the morning when he trained for high school cross country, I’ve ached for solitude.

But lately, I’ve swapped a lot of solo runs for runs with friends. From high school, some people yearn for a return to prom, others remember first loves, and some just ache for the security of youth, huddled between lockers with friends, but, my favorite moments – or full days of moments – were at track meets.

These days began early and ended late and sometimes spanned two full days out of the classroom. As a team, when the spring sun had yet to warm the track or our bodies, we stalked out a spot on the bleachers, we set up an awning, and then we all huddled beneath it, clinging together to gather warmth beneath the drastic, sharp edges of the Rocky Mountains in northern Utah, and then we waited for our turn to run, to hurdle, to vault, or to throw.

Counting the few minutes it took to warm up and the, sometimes, only few seconds it took to run our event, we really only left the laughing, talking, cheering mass of friends beneath the awning for 15 minutes at a time and spent the rest of the time being a team beneath a draping layer of canvas.

The sun would eventually come, and in the thin air of 4,500 feet, we would shed our outer layers and sunbathe and wait and cheer and huddle. But, most importantly, we waited for the finish line of each race and cheered for our teammates.

Those are the only days from high school that I miss. The rest of my high school memories can take a hike.

When I moved back to Utah, after sporadically being gone for 20 years, I started running – and drinking beer afterward – with a group of friends on Thursday nights, now officially named the Ogden Pub Runners (or OPR). We started the group, I believe, as a way to justify leaving our homes and getting a few beers during the week.

When we started in August of 2013, it was just a few of us plodding down Washington Ave. in Ogden, Utah. We could walk into any establishment after the run, pull up a few chairs, eat and drink, and be on our way without the wait staff even noticing we were an official club, which we weren’t, but damn it, we wanted to be.

After the first summer season passed, a few of us plunged forward into the winter. We met early on Saturday mornings, adding to our weekly night runs, and trained for the Ogden Marathon that forthcoming May.I’d never trained for a long endurance event with a group before, never wanting to deal with scheduling or other personalities than my own for one, two, or three hours at a time while pushing myself along the road, trail, or sidewalk, but, with this group, I did, and I loved it.

Funny things are said after 18 miles. People reveal secrets. They share info about odd bodily quirks, secretions, chafing, and insecurities. Our group, by the time the three or four of us finished training for the Ogden Marathon in 2014, knew way too much about each other than we ever should have, but we knew – even though one of us has broken this code – that what was talked about on long runs stayed out there in the ether between sanity and exhaustion.

I got injured this year, and had to miss these long runs, and I did miss them, but, mostly, I missed my running partners and the long talks and the camaraderie of sharing the brutality of the last miles together, even though one of us began to scream obscenities, one lingered on bodily functions, and the other had a flatulence problem.

OPR, however, has grown even stronger. Nowadays, on Thursday nights, I pull into the parking lot of a local pub – our goal is to only support locally owned establishments – and see the lot full, 20-40 runners milling around like runners do (messing with their shoes, their watches, their undergarments), and the bar manager’s eyes wide with the fear that he/she should have taken us seriously when we called earlier that week and told them we would be bringing a crew of hungry and thirsty runners and that they should probably call extra staff.

The original three or four of my friends are there. They weave through the crowd of runners, looking for any newcomers, and extend their hands to welcome them.

What used to be three or four of us heading out for a run along the road, unnoticeably, has now become a galloping herd of runners, with OPR shirts on their backs, spreading outward along Ogden roads. Cars honk. People slow to take pictures. There are shouts. There are 20 different running conversations being passed between breaths.

Then they huddle back beneath the sign of a pub after the run and wait for everyone to come in. And, most importantly, like those days beneath the canvas awning 20 years ago, they cheer for incoming runners – camaraderie.

This time, however, with beer.

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For The Good Men Project Sports’ Why We Run feature, we are looking to collect YOUR comments, posts, Tweets, and emails that answer the questions: Why do you run? What are you running from? What are you running towards, if anything?” Please send us your submission via email to myself at mkasdan@gmail.com or via Twitter @michaelkasdan #WhyWeRunGMP and #GMPSports. Submissions can also be made through the below comments section or on our Facebook page.

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#22: To Cast Away My Sorrows <<  >> #24: For Marianne

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Photos: Author/Used with permission