Value in Solitude

I have a few running friends that can only train in groups.  They say without their scheduled meetings they may never be able to pull themselves out of bed or off of the couch every single day to sweat and gasp for air hours at a time.  I have also been told that a running companion can push you to new training levels and give you the strength to conquer a hill that you may never be able to push yourself over.  I have heard them call solo runners crazy and reach to understand how a person could possible want to run two or three hours at a time all alone.

I am one of the crazy ones.  The thought of spending hours upon hours of time when I am in my most focused, most driven state with another individual yapping at me, expecting me to share my deepest thoughts and redirect energy to connect with them has never drawn me in.  When I run through town, breezing past crowds of students standing at a bus stop, or alongside groups of friends walking to class, I feel like I am all alone in a comforting sea of people, zipping by a stationary scene within my tunnel of observation.  It is one of the few times when I can be around other people, observing them, wondering about them, without ever having to bother with formalities of small talk or polite “hello’s.”  I can be entirely focused on my own thoughts, or the people around me, or the sights, or even the position and motion of each part of my body (which I spend a surprising amount of time contemplating).

I think this is why I have always loved to travel alone.  Don’t get me wrong; occasionally I like to visit places with other people.  Some of my favorite moments have been camping with my boyfriend.  Likewise, I have been able to enjoy the occasionally short, easy run with someone close to me, like my brother.  Traveling in Africa by myself brings back the same sort of comfort that a long solo run on a busy morning in Bloomington gives me.

Kampala is a lively city, the capitol of Uganda.  Since Idi Amin’s demise in the 1980’s the city and the country has become much safer and well maintained.  Unlike Nairobi, it is perfectly safe for me to walk around all alone, and I am rarely hassled for money or food.  Once again I am able to walk through a sea of people speaking languages I barely follow, knowing full well that no matter what I do I will be strange and I will be an outsider.  That means I can focus on the sights around me, the thoughts racing through my head, and the interesting people I pass, without worrying about whether or not they are judging me.  They will judge me no matter what, and I might as well take full advantage of that comfort.

I find that when a familiar companion does not distract me I am able to observe my surroundings more intently, focusing on my own reactions before I let another person’s judgment cloud my own.  Humans are so adapted to empathizing with trusted allies that we easily mistaken their impressions and reactions for our own without realizing it.  When we break away from that occasionally, and spend time with no one else around, no voice but the one inside our own head, it is surprising the things we can learn about ourselves and the world around us.  It is even easier to block out every voice outside my own when I can’t understand the language that everyone is speaking.  Of course too much of this can lead to isolation and, to put it bluntly, complete social awkwardness (but we’ll get back to that when I leave in two months).  Still, there is such value in stepping out alone to discover things sometimes, and I will always be grateful that my career has forced me to do that with my travels.