It’s 6:10 am and the sky is sweating colours of oranges, pinks, and purples. Georgie and I lock eyes as another cocky guy saunters to mingle with fellow runners. Rhythmic waves lap against the rocks and shore, mocking my steady heartbeat. The motto ‘Win the morning, win the day’ hangs thick in the air, and I take in a deep breath, in a futile attempt to oxygenate my blood. I roll my head and hop awkwardly on the spot, in a silly performative manner to front as an avid runner. I look over my shoulder at the guy: it looks like he’s drooling after spotting one of the regular runners in her fitted sportswear. Soft murmurs echo, but loud friendly faces chat and discuss the most important manner of the morning: their Strava updates.
In the age of loneliness, we are fighting a battle of disconnection, each of us is sprinting towards finding an accessible way to connect and disconnect from the chaos of our lives and social media. My friend once asked me, “How do I meet new people? How do I make more friends?” After having an in-depth thought about how I met my friends as an adult out of high school, I arrived at an answer.
“I guess you could join a club or a team sport. That’s a great way to meet like-minded people or maybe just go out and umm meet people?”.
When I first moved to Wollongong to pursue my journalism degree, I joined a water polo club and made many friends. Similarly, going to class allowed me to create new connections.
But for my friend who was not interested in water polo and did not attend university, I was lost as to how she could create new connections and a personal community. Many people struggle to connect and meet new people, which is one reason why run clubs have thrived on the loneliness epidemic.
Social media loves run clubs, which became trendy and took off internationally, uniting runners of all kinds who now join together daily to tackle the morning, socialise, and exercise. It’s cost-effective, accessible, and encourages a healthy lifestyle. Therefore, the perfect place to meet a future partner?
This is a more fraught question.
I begin to establish my pace. My ankle slightly catches on the curb, and I catch myself – just. I blush in embarrassment. My breathing is shocking and fails to align with the military-run squad I’ve joined as a juvenile soldier. I feel like the runt of the pack, but Georgie holds back, matching her pace to mine, and gives me a wink. We look forward and see a couple mimicking our dynamic, matching their rhythm romantically. Encouragement runs through my body, shocking my system into a rhythmic rate, my mind clears and is locked on my target. The lighthouse.
Georgie has been an avid runner for the past two years after her roommates introduced her to a small club, which has grown significantly in Wollongong. They meet multiple times throughout the week in the early hours by North Beach, to break a sweat and begin the day on the right foot.
“Everyone was super welcoming and were happy to have a chat. We had coffee afterwards too and it made me realise that I really don’t love the social scene of going out and drinking anymore and that waking up early, which is what I had always done, and doing some exercise but also socialising was definitely how I wanted to spend my mornings.”
Meanwhile, however, the lighthouse still feels distant. How many more ways can I feel agony? I’m out of rhythm and a huge blister is forming on my foot and squelching. My throat has knives in it. What am I doing?
Georgie met her partner and her current roommates through run club. It’s become her community, her third space, where she gets to exercise, socialise, and disconnect from the everyday chaos.
“I think especially now with everything being so online it’s nice I still had the opportunity to meet someone organically, in person and have a cute little story.”
Loneliness lingers amongst many Australians. Almost 1 in 3 Australians feel lonely and 1 in 6 are experiencing severe loneliness. The demographic suffering the most is young people aged 18 to 24.
Performance Psychologist David Baracossa suggests that loneliness can be linked to many factors including re-establishing social habits post-COVID-19 isolation, and due to the lack of quality connection from social media.
‘When we were forced into isolation, we lost some connection to our social habits. For months on end, we didn’t have to engage with that, and we didn’t have to put ourselves out there and we didn’t kind of make time for these kind of things,’ David said.
“We get these little social interactions via notifications or a message or this or that, but it doesn’t have the depth and quality to the interaction.’
Having struggled with loneliness myself, and having a plethora of conversations with my girlfriends about their hate for online dating, I began to understand why the notion of dating has been linked to run clubs. But still, it baffled me that someone would get up at 5 am, run a painful 5kms with searing pain in their throat, burning lungs, get hot, sweaty, and then try to pursue someone.
Georgie and I roll our eyes in the direction of the struggling new guy chasing after the girl like a silly lost puppy. I put on a front to hide the agony. Tight. Fitted. Clothes. Short shorts…. Sweat. Pounding. My heart races. The hairs on my arms raise as the cold air caresses me as I push harder… to reach the lighthouse.
Fitness, to some, has become addictive and essential. A must in the endless daily to-do list. Georgie describes her run as meditative and rewarding. It can be credited to our neurochemical friends, endorphins and dopamine, the happy drugs. Runners’ high is real.
As you begin to run, your body works to move oxygenated blood to your muscles and brain. Your heart begins to race and your pulse quickens, like nervous first date feelings. Endorphins, happy hormones, are released in your blood as you exercise producing feelings of happiness and pleasure. Similarly, exercise also releases dopamine, another happy chemical, which further motivates you to do that activity again as you felt good.
David explains that where we are neurochemically post-workout, and after achieving a run as a team, may be linked to our receptivity to forming new relationships.
“You finish the run, and you have that endorphin hit, you’ve got the dopamine hit, you’re in that positive space and if there are people around us then we associate them with that.
We associate them with that feeling of reward, we associate them with that feeling of satisfaction and fulfilment and others are also living their own endorphin and dopamine hit so they are also associating us with that.”
I’m sore but, the lighthouse ahead marks a serendipitous finish. I pick up my pace forcefully, my breath hitches, and my pace reaches its crescendo.
“Ahhh……”
Embrace. Pleasure. Release. Relief. I let out a soft laugh and wipe the sweat off my forehead. That felt like a marathon. Everyone around is chuffed, there’s no shortage of high-fives and hugs. It’s like you can almost see the collective high we are experiencing.
The lost puppy shoots his shot. And scores? They exchange numbers. Maybe he researched the brain’s neurochemical response, practised his breathing and running techniques and then committed to picking her up. He has done well considering almost 1 in 4 young Australians meet their partner online. It makes sense, we are all lonely and desire intimacy. But then, if that’s the case, should run club be renamed ‘let’s get to know each other and then take each other home club’.
Georgie dislikes this notion. “I hate people who come to run club with the intention to date people, that’s not what run club is for.”
This. Despite meeting her partner at run club.
“I think run club as a dating app is like, I hate it, but if you go to run club and your intention is to run and to make connections with people and you’re there to be yourself and have a good time and have a run and have a coffee and you just so happen to meet someone there, that’s amazing.”
It’s not a dating app. It’s a place to meet and enjoy nature whilst exercising.
Poet Mark Strand captures it best:
We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.
And after all of that. I forgot to fucking log my Strava.