November: Cohort

   Think back to a time when your love life got messy. The reference is good for judging a running partner. Character reveals itself in unpleasant intimacies, in moments of exhaustion and raw, unmet need. You would tell the loser who dogs your workouts to stop whining and improve -- or to run with someone else. But as with a disappointing lover, it's never that easy.

   This is one reason many of us seek the exquisite solitude that running solo brings. A one-hour workout forces confrontation with personal abilities and desires we only half understand. Or perhaps it indulges distraction, open sky and horizon palliating the drudgery and gripes of everyday living. It is a selfish time -- yes. Never apologize for it. Never feel guilty. Your colleagues and loved ones benefit from it, however indirectly.

   Yet sometimes the mutual support and discipline a regular cohort brings to your efforts urge new goals on you, new things to learn about yourself when you run alone. Running partners are more than great motivators. They're sounding boards and mirrors. They're voices of reason and mercy when you can't summon these virtues on your own. Also, there are times in all of our lives when we simply don't want to run alone, for reasons that have nothing to do with running.

   The ideal partner, of course, is mythic, encountered, often as not, in moments of serendipity -- during a race or a predawn run through city streets perhaps. You'll find yourself working at the exact pace, running along the same route as some stranger of startlingly equal ability. Running melts away social decorum, and it's not uncommon to join side by side, exchanging smiles but few words, gently coaxing each other with pace and collaborative goodwill alone, pouring on sufficient competitive heat to bring forth a better runner in you than you ever believed possible.

   There's no satisfactory English word for this kind of connection. It is intimate and visceral and transient. You can't re-create these miraculous workouts. Two weeks hence, one of you will be stronger; one will be less motivated. Besides, you'll never encounter each other on the same streets again. So consider it a dalliance. Your regular running partner, as with a faithful lover, requires accommodation, patience, communication, and a clear set of boundaries and expectations. There's less magic, more consistent progress. Your loyalty belongs to this kind of relationship because ultimately it will make you a better runner.

   So how do you find this faithful companion? Approach any new running partner with skepticism, stinginess, and a little meanness in your soul. You want to demand from each other slightly more than you're willing to give. Accommodation should be tentative. Larger goals than mere goodwill are at stake, and you should make this clear from the get-go. Will this scare off potential running companions? Probably, and it's no surprise that for many of us, the perfect cohort runs on four furry feet.