Last fall, I sustained a running injury that I’m still dealing with, marking the longest stretch I’ve gone without running in over 30 years. It’s been a struggle, both mentally and physically. I spent most of last year training for an ultramarathon that was canceled due to a hurricane, only to pivot to a marathon weeks later and have to drop out because of this injury. After months of preparation, my fitness gains slipped away without ever making it to the start line. It felt like getting “the bends,” going from high mileage to no mileage almost overnight.
When I finally started moving pain-free, I decided to join a gym—something far outside my comfort zone. The last time I lifted weights in a real gym was back in college, and walking in felt like starting over. For the first time in a long time, I felt like a total dweeb in my running shorts, surrounded by “gym bros.” As runners, we develop a quiet confidence from years of workouts, group runs, and races, but walking into the gym stripped me of that. It took a few visits, but eventually, I found my routine and started feeling like less of a fraud as I pushed my tiny weights around.
One of the first things I realized is that no one at the gym actually cares what you’re doing. I’d convinced myself that people were mocking my form or the empty barbell I was struggling with, but the truth is, most people are too focused on their own workouts to notice. Those who do notice seem to be quietly rooting for you, much like the nods of acknowledgment we give each other on a run. It’s a subtle camaraderie that I came to appreciate.
I also found that people love giving advice. If you ask someone about form or how to use a machine, they’re usually happy to help—and those small interactions build connections. I’ve even had people follow up with a fist bump or quick encouragement. Honestly, it reminded me of the running community and how willing we are to help newcomers find their footing.
Having a plan made all the difference. When I first started going, I wandered around aimlessly, trying random machines. Now, I go in with a structure: seven different exercises followed by 30 minutes of cardio. I stick to low weights and high reps, moving quickly to sneak in a bit of extra cardio during lifting. This game plan keeps me focused and efficient, and it’s made the experience much less intimidating.
One unexpected perk has been the climate-controlled workouts. I’ll never stop being a runner—to paraphrase John Cougar Mellencamp, I was born a runner and will probably die a runner—but being indoors this winter has been a nice change. No layers, no frozen trails, no muddy shoes—just a steady 65 degrees and clean sneakers. While I can’t wait to hit the trails again, I’ve come to appreciate pedaling along on a stationary bike while the temperatures outside hover in the single digits.
If you’re thinking about starting a gym routine but feel intimidated, don’t be. The gym has reminded me that we, as runners, should extend the same warmth and encouragement to beginners in our community. Whether it’s someone new at a store group run or a nervous face at the track, take a moment to give them a high five or ask how their run went. It’s those small gestures that make a huge difference.
For now, I’m grateful to have found a temporary home while I heal my heel, but I can’t wait to get back to running. In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be at the gym, getting shredded with my fellow gym bros.
