Dependence

I consider myself a fairly independent young woman, but not when it comes to running. Or at least, not when it comes to running lately.

After I ran the Twin Cities Marathon, I began running with someone. And for the next six months, we ran 90 percent of the time together. Whenever I wanted to get a few miles in, I called on Naomi. She was always there. And when I didn't want to run, she was there to motivate me. We were compatible, able to go the same distance at the same pace.

We rolled out of bed at 8 a.m. on Sundays to squeeze in a few hours of running before managers' meeting at the Daily. Through the winter, we wore tights, long underwear and four layers of shirts. During one particularly cold run, our snot froze to our scarves. We didn't care that it was only 7 degrees out. We let our toes go numb during the Reindeer Run. We battled hail this spring and overcame the heat on unseasonably warm days.

Now as I desperately search for a running group that fits my needs and meets in locations accessible by metro, I realize I've long relied on a running partner. As I grudgingly climb the treadmill after work, it hits me that it's hard to run alone. The treadmill is hell on a belt.

I have to recapture the independent running soul, the one I had when I first started running a few years ago. The one I had when I embraced the treadmill, because it was my escape from stress.

I have to discover that liberation I felt when I trained for the marathon...alone. No one was there when I got up in the wee hours every work day and ran around Lake Winona. There wasn't an extra pair of feet when I ran in the boonies last summer. Well, there was that one time when I conned my sister into running to Walnut Grove and back home to Tracy -- 14 miles total. She hadn't run in months.

It'll be back to training later this summer. I'm running the Baltimore half-marathon in October.

Of course, I won't be going it alone on race day. Naomi will be there.