There’s something about a long run that turns even the most reserved person into a confessional machine. Maybe it’s the rhythm. Maybe it’s the lack of eye contact. Maybe it’s the oxygen deprivation. But after 10 or so miles, normal social filters vanish.
Suddenly, you’re saying things that would get you escorted out of a polite dinner. You and your running buddy go from casual acquaintances to trauma bonded oversharers in the space of an hour.
Here’s a selection of things that seem perfectly normal mid run… but would get you reported to HR anywhere else.
1. “If I fart, it’s safe, probably.”
Long runs involve risk. And sometimes that risk is gastrointestinal.
You don’t want to say it. You really don’t. But you also don’t want to not say it and then have to sprint to a bush without warning. So you say the words and your running buddy simply nods, understanding.
In the outside world, this kind of announcement would cause social collapse. In long run land? Totally acceptable.
2. “My left nipple’s bleeding again.”
Said in the same tone most people use for “I need to buy milk.” No shame. No emotion. Just a factual update about the state of your upper torso.
Bonus points if you follow it with “forgot the plasters” or “it’s chafing in a weird shape this time.”
Try casually dropping that in the queue at Tesco and see how fast the crowd clears.
3. “I can feel the gel sloshing in my stomach. It’s like a fish tank in there.”
Running nutrition is a delicate balance and mid run honesty about it is brutal.
You describe the texture. You describe the regret. You compare your internal organs to plumbing. It’s not attractive. But it’s honest. And that’s what the long run is for.
4. “Do you think it’s actually possible to have a poo while still running?”
An intellectual debate, conducted seriously and without irony. Sub topics may include:
- Bush accessibility
- The practicality of elasticated shorts
- Famous incidents of elite level accidents
You would never talk about this in an office. But now, here you are, on kilometre 14, sketching out logistical solutions like it’s a thesis.
5. “If I get hit by a car right now, I think I’d be okay with it.”
Said with affection. Said with peace. Said with full body fatigue and a faraway look in the eyes.
You don’t mean it. You’re not in danger. You’re just… so, so tired. And the idea of lying still for an extended period feels deeply appealing.
Your friend laughs because they feel the same. And you both keep running. Slowly. Softly. Like ghosts.
6. “Do you ever think about faking an injury just to stop?”
Not doing it. Just… fantasising about it.
You’re picturing yourself going over on your ankle, clutching it, milking the drama, getting a lift home and a sympathy Boost bar.
You haven’t even slowed down. But the image comforts you.
Again, not something you'd admit to a normal person. But your long run buddy? They nod and say, “Every week.”
7. “I used to fancy [insert wildly inappropriate celebrity choice here] when I was younger.”
There’s no judgement on a long run.
You can confess to liking Westlife. You can admit you used to think Mr. Blobby was a bit of a legend. You can say you cried when Roy Keane retired.
Nobody blinks. You’re past that now.
You’ve sweated through your top and your thighs are chafing. There’s no image left to protect.
Final Word
Long runs are weird little confession booths on legs. You’ll say things you never thought would leave your mouth. You’ll hear things that change how you see your friend forever.
And when it’s over, you won’t speak of it again. Because what’s said at mile 16 stays at mile 16. Until the next one.