It’s 6 a.m., I’m doing my lunge twists on an old yoga mat, lost in thought before heading out for a nearly three-hour run in the summer heat. I glance across my entryway at the shoe rack I’ve just assembled, which holds twelve pairs of trainers (including my all-time favorite Asics Novablast 5s), in addition to the two pairs of Vans I keep on rotation for basically every other occasion. I’ve been wearing some version of the same band T-shirts (Daft Punk and Deafheaven, mostly) and work pants for years, yet somehow, I now own enough running gear to go weeks without repeating an outfit.
I’m 34, three years into running, halfway through a training block for my fifth marathon, and spending far too much time trying to fit four to five runs into my weekly schedule. Lately, I’ve been reflecting on my relationship to the sport, appreciating how much faster I’ve gotten and realizing I’m more than okay with hours-long runs. The thought “Who am I?!” keeps cropping up.
Until my 30s, I had no interest in running farther than a 90-foot base path or the length of a basketball court. Stranger still, I’ve remained consistent in the year since moving back to the States, so far away from the people who got me into running in the first place.
I wasn’t a runner
Before I moved to Tokyo in 2012, I’d always been active, but I had never, ever been a runner. Then, once I became a full-fledged adult, my work and life schedule made it nearly impossible to participate in organized sports. I dabbled in pick-up and rec leagues, but the gym was my only real way to stay active.
I was living in Tokyo when Covid took the gym away, too. Fairly abruptly, gyms closed, and while everyone else seemed to take up running, a friend sent me a jump rope in the mail. For the next couple of years—including a brief stint back in the U.S.—that became my cardio. 30 minutes, sometimes an hour, nonstop. And by the time I returned to Tokyo, I had discovered a passion for endurance training.
That only lasted a couple of weeks until a friend had heard enough of my jump rope routine and asked, “Don’t you want to see more of Japan than a wall?” Fair point. Next thing I knew, I was on my way to join his weekly run group, Doyou Club, on a rainy Saturday morning.
Although it was pouring that day, a handful of other brave souls and I decided to stick it out amid the late May thunderstorm. This was the first time I realized how nice rainy runs are. The weather is so distracting that it takes a lot of the social pressure off. You stop worrying about your form, people can’t hear you huffing and puffing, everyone’s so focused on not slipping rather than looking at how you run on your tiptoes. (I’ve fixed that, I promise.)
When it rains, it pours, and from there the run club invites came flooding in, starting with 080Tokyo. They meet up on Monday evenings in Yoyogi Park, a convenient 15-minute walk from my office at the time.
It was a larger group (but nowhere near as big as it is now!), just under 20 people. I loved their super accessible approach: a consistent ~3 miles with a pit stop in the middle to take a picture at Shibuya Crossing or any fun locations along the way. They also hold loads of community events and link up with other groups regularly. Here we are with a run crew from Korea, a collab that happened within my first couple of weeks of joining.
Even though I mostly ran with these two groups on Mondays and Saturdays, the events and races started to add up. I was piling on the mileage, and the actual running part was becoming—dare I say it—enjoyable.
Somewhere along the way, I was invited to join the faster offshoot group, Trackbeats, for one of their night track sessions. I was hooked from the start and, from that point on, spent my Wednesday nights getting my a** kicked on the track with people who were way faster but just as obsessed with pushing their limits as I was. While I still was not identifying as a runner, I’d managed to find a way to tack a third day of running onto my weekly schedule.
Showing up became its own reason
I’m still in awe of how swiftly running became such a huge part of my life. There was no season I was adhering to, no PR I was chasing. Monday came around, and if I could make it, I showed up. Wednesday came around, and even though I often had a long day at work or it was 95 degrees with 100% humidity, I still showed up. Slowly but surely, that’s how the people I casually ran beside became people I enjoyed spending time with and still consider lifelong friends.
My world around running kept expanding from there. The types of people who are determined enough to run on rainy or swelteringly hot days have a way of talking you into things; like joining a half marathon, then a full marathon. I even found myself running a three-day, nearly 300-mile relay from Kyoto back to where it all started in Yoyogi Park with 080Tokyo. That was a particularly incredible experience, but a story for another time. (Here’s a documentary on it!)
I didn’t realize what I was leaving behind
Those are some of the biggest experiences running gifted me, and moving back to the States is what forced me to reckon with all I’d left behind. I no longer have a group of people waiting to push me through when I’m under slept, my legs are heavy, and whatever workout is on the schedule sounds absolutely dreadful.
My first race back felt strange without an entire group racing alongside me, cheering each other on and meeting at the finish line. But running has taken on a different shape here in Madison, Wisconsin. Over the past six months, I’ve been busy reconnecting with my most active friends. Mom, at the very least, meets me at finish lines, and after a long run, I can snap a photo with my nephew to send back to the Trackbeats guys. Running never was the solitary sport I originally expected it to be, and I now understand I never would have picked it up if I’d been going it solo.
Running is how I stay close at a distance
Running not only keeps me connected to the people I’ve met along the way; it also keeps Tokyo, as a physical place, crisp and clear in my memory. It’s such a special city, and I’m grateful that I can open up Strava and recognize a route. Or, I can see a Trackbeats workout and remember exactly what it felt like to be out there after work in the summer heat, pounding the track. Thanks to all those miles I logged there, I can still see it when I close my eyes. It’s also given me a new-found motivation to visit other countries to see my other expat friends in their home countries.
In return, my friends back in Tokyo can begin to envision my new life and experience where I’m from. Yes, I’ve traded the narrow Tokyo streets for Wisconsin cornfields and country roads, but we’re forever connected by our past shared experiences and our present exchanges of pictures, training plans, and race times.
A year away has made me realize that the ordinary runs meant every bit as much as the marathons, relays, and big events. I know that someday, I’ll be back in Japan and will have a chance to run with my old communities. In the meantime, I’ll keep putting in the miles, seeking out local run crews, and trying to keep my joints as healthy as possible, so that when we’re finally reunited in Tokyo, I’ll be ready to lace up.
日本のみんなへ、走ることをこんなに大切で特別なものにしてくれて、本当にありがとう。また一緒に走れるその日まで、みんな元気でね！
P.S. Both Doyou Club and 080Tokyo are still going strong. If you ever find yourself in Tokyo, I encourage you to join a run. It’s a great way to see the city and meet some of the most wonderful people I’ve had the pleasure to know!
Showing up for yourself, your friends, and your family is priceless. I loved reading about your adventures. Cheers!
The world is a big beautiful place and we all need to support each other by sharing our stories, whether we accomplish our goals or try darn hard not to give up.