The Tribe
The Tribe
By Barbara Zirl
One late August morning before dawn, two years ago, I showed up at the Coyote Creek trailhead near the back parking lot of Silvercreek Sportsplex looking for the coach of a fitness group I’d heard about. I didn’t know anyone in San Jose, since I’d just moved to California from New Jersey only a month earlier. The owner of a running store in Willow Glen had given me the coach’s name, among other local running groups, and I was trying each on for size like a pair of new sneakers. I had run with one group the previous Sunday and they were too fast for me. I ran with another group that started out at the running store at 6 a.m. on Thursday morning and that was too early.
The day before, while I was doing laundry in my new apartment, I stood up and smacked my head on the open dryer door, unused to a stacked washer/dryer set. I woke up with a pounding headache – probably a concussion – and thought about not going. However, I pushed myself out the door in my quest to meet people.
I first spotted a group of runners gathered around someone’s car and I asked them if they were from Too Legit Fitness. They weren’t. One runner pointed over to another group already starting a warm-up on the trail.
There were maybe 20 women and men, amiably chatting and getting ready to run. I guessed the tall, athletic guy with a whistle and a football in his hand must be the coach and I introduced myself. I wasn’t sure why there was a football for a running group. But I liked Coach Bertrand Newson immediately and had a good feeling this group might be the right fit. The other runners were friendly and welcoming as we all began a cardio warm-up doing jumping jacks, high knees and butt kicks. We brushed off sleepiness and stretched out tight muscles. Next, we were running back a few yards, trying to catch a football as we practiced agility. What? I’d never caught a football before, but this was fun. Some people caught the ball. Some dropped it. Some fell while trying to catch it. There were only words of encouragement. Get it. You got it. Cheers, for a great save.
Then we ran. The faster runners immediately picked up speed and I settled in to my typical pace, finding myself next to a few women running similarly. We talked as we ran and shared bits of personal stories. These were strangers, but not for long. An hour and a half later, I knew I’d picked the right group: it was kismet.
I came to California just three months after my mother died. I’d been living with her in New Jersey ever since losing my father decades earlier assuring her she wouldn’t have to be alone in her grief. She battled cancer three different times and I was there for her. In the end, I witnessed the unraveling of her life and knew I was looking at a complete revision of my own. My brother had been living in San Jose for more than 20 years and I’d been to visit many times. Each time, I’d stay for a week or so and run on the Los Gatos Creek Trail. While I didn’t know any of the runners by name, it was familiar territory.
As a naturally shy loner and introverted newcomer, stepping out of my comfort zone to meet a large group of people was daunting. But, I’d made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t let fear get in the way of finding new friends and I wouldn’t say no to new experiences.
At the end of the Coyote Creek trail run, I learned of the next group event scheduled for the following week – a run starting at the running store. There was hill run coming up. I found that many of the Too Legit Fitness team members were training for the California International Marathon that would be in December. Since I hadn’t run much from February to June, I wasn’t planning to run a marathon until I trained properly. I decided I’d just do long training runs with the group. Soon I was filling my calendar with Saturday running activities, and even mid-week track workouts. At first, I felt somewhat awkward among people who already knew each other or who had been friends for years. But each time I’d show up for a long run or a track workout, I’d see familiar faces and some new ones and gradually I got more comfortable meeting everyone.
By that October, I signed up for the San Jose Rock & Roll Half Marathon. It would be my first race in California. Before the race, about 40 runners from the team gathered on the steps of a church for a photo op, organized by Coach B. I was surprised that I’d already met most of them and knew others by sight, having seen their pictures or interacted with them on social media. There were hugs and good mornings and smiles. People knew me and I felt accepted.
Two years and some 5,000 miles later, hours of camaraderie on and off the roads or trails, and I can easily say these are my people. My tribe. These people get me.
Years earlier, I got a t-shirt for my mom who wasn’t a runner, but understood my running obsession. The shirt was black and on the front was a white graphic with two pac-man like heads talking to each other. One had a thought bubble above it and it said, “Marathon, marathon, marathon.” The other head was saying “Zzzzzz.”
Talking about marathons and running and shoes and electrolytes and massage guns with non-runners will illicit the z’s. But talking with other runners about running, leads to discussions about anything. Running is simply the ice breaker. I don’t have to explain when I need to block out the rest of the world and just go for a run. If I want to run and chat, amid the chaos of the pandemic, I can count on the runners in my safe social bubble. If I want motivation, I know the team will be at the track early Wednesday mornings. If I want a challenge, I can show up for a surprise route of steep hills that goes on for 18 miles. I don’t have to be anything other than who I am with this group of like-minded people. I could go for a run or walk or hike with anyone in the group and I would feel comfortable sharing stories for an hour and learning something about the other person.
But it’s more than merely acknowledgment of running as my passion. Running and fitness may be the entry points that bring people in, but Coach B has created a unique ethos embedded in the lifeblood of the group where everyone roots for each other’s success. Everyone brings their own contribution; each piece strengthens the whole. Everybody matters. Everyone is celebrated. There’s a level of support and acceptance and kindness that makes Too Legit Fitness special. It’s not just a fitness community – it’s a family.
I feel closer to my fitness family than I do with my own – the little piece of it that remains. These are the people I choose to be with and who came into my life for a reason. I’d rather spend time with the people who lift me up and champion my goals, cheer for me, listen to me, and rally around me when I need help. I embrace the tribe as an antidote to loneliness.
During this odd pandemic time of separation and physical distancing, I’m missing the closeness we had before it began. Now we’re gathering in small, sub-groups for our running or hiking fix: a 5 a.m. crew on the east side; a 6 a.m. one on the south; trail climbers in Quicksilver; evening hikers up Mission Peak. All parts of the larger whole like tributaries of a river. Some days, though, I don’t see anyone at all and I crave a connection – a text, a message, a call to reassure me I’m not the only one left in the world.
As a kid, I existed on the perimeter. I never felt I fit in anywhere and being aloof was a defense mechanism. For most of my life, I never had a crew, a posse, a squad. Maybe I just never found one or the circumstances were never ripe for it. It turns out, I had to move 3,000 miles to find my tribe and now I have people who truly support me with no agenda. These are people who accept me for who I am. I feel I can trust them and that allows me to be brave enough to be vulnerable and reveal parts of myself I might otherwise have been too scared to share. These deep friendships are an investment that can only grow stronger through our shared experiences.
We celebrate someone’s birthday in a park, a mileage goal met, a new mountain climbed. We champion someone mastering the technology to teach her students during a pandemic. Someone is scared of being around many people and prefers to run alone instead. That’s OK too. We go on a hike to watch the sunrise. We eat donuts after an early morning 10K. We brave sitting outside at a table and sharing a glass of wine or grabbing a beer. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. And they’re always glad you came.
Coach organizes a hill run for a Saturday. We’ve been climbing the Evergreen Hills, running more than 13 miles in the summer heat and now we’re on the last stretch of Silver Creek Valley Road, with two miles until we’re back at our cars at the Sportsplex parking lot. A lady walking on the sidewalk asks: are you all part of some club? “Yes,” I tell her. To myself, I think: Yes. Yes we are. These are my people. And this is my tribe.
