This summer, my supervisor asked me if I had imposter syndrome. I responded, “Of course not”—as an intern, being confused and asking questions was practically my job description. If someone seemed smarter than me, well, they were supposed to be; I didn’t even have my degree yet, much less work experience in the field.
You’d think I’d have the same attitude at my first Club Running practice freshman year. However, this would make too much sense. After graduating as the fastest, most dedicated distance runner in my tiny 2A high school—a year where I finally beat my one-sided rival in the 3200 m, set a school record, and medaled at states—I was the slowest person on the team. It was a classic case of the overachiever falling from their overinflated ego throne, and I was bruised badly.
I decided to take a break from running (it hurt my knees anyways) and tried to find a different hobby. Despite doing my time with club swim, k-pop dance club, ballet club #1, ballet club #2, hip hop dance club, and club rowing, I regressed back to running by my second semester at college. All alone on my runs, I would avoid making eye contact with any club runners, ashamed of my failed two weeks at practice the previous fall. Occasionally, I would read the club email and reminisce about what could have been, thinking about how much I missed track meets. I even attended our home meet, where I sat with my then-girlfriend 10 meters away from the UMD tent until it was time to run my event, in which I was outkicked by some unattached middle schooler.
By summertime, I’d had enough. My friends refused to get dragged along on the shortest of runs, and I’d cried tears of joy watching Run With the Wind too many times. The prospect of re-joining Club Running was terrifying, but the thought of another semester without a running team was even worse. So, I took on an *intense* summer training schedule (running for around an hour whenever I felt like it) and eagerly awaited the start of the season.
The second time around was no less painful than the first. I was still the slowest person in workouts, at meets, and on easy runs. There were freshmen who’d barely done the sport that were faster than me. Thanks to stress eating diner cookies, I’d gained 30 lbs, which made me feel like I didn’t even look the part. But, I really, really, really wanted to run with a team again, so I ignored all of this and showed up to practice anyways. Luckily, it’s hard to think about insecurities while doing a hard workout at 6 am, and I had a lot of fun despite sometimes feeling out of place.
Throughout this time, I desperately wanted someone close to my ability level to run with. I expected that getting faster would solve this, but the runners who used to lap me in workouts have since graduated, and I’m often the only girl on the track. Shockingly enough, it turns out that the running demographic isn’t only “girl who runs 7:00 tempo pace” and “girl who runs 6:00 tempo pace.” There are so many ways to enjoy running that it’s hard to find a group that will perfectly fit your needs. But, this is club running, without any tryouts, fitness requirements, or attendance policies. If you run, jog, or walk (or even if you don’t do any of these things, as my frequently injured self can attest), you can show up to practice or sign up for a meet. There is community in running with others, but there is also community in car rides to meets, cross training, and chatting after practice. Having been so embarrassed of my abilities that I avoided club running to a comical degree, it makes me sad to hear about anyone in a similar situation. It’s normal to feel apprehensive about your fitness; please don’t let it stop you from joining the club.
