We’ve all seen it, the classic teen movie formula.
The jock falls for the cheerleader. There’s a big popularity contest. Everything builds up to one dramatic, slow-motion moment at the school dance.
It’s predictable. It’s been done a hundred times.
“She was beautiful all along! We just had to take off her glasses.”
That’s kind of how I feel about run clubs.
Every city has them:
— The fast, competitive group chasing PRs and Strava crowns
— The social crew running just enough to justify post-run beers
— The marathon training squads
— The run-for-charity groups
— The brand-sponsored collectives
They all have their place. They all serve a purpose.
No hate.
But what if you don’t fit into any of those?
What if you just want to run without needing to prove something, keep up, or fit into a mold?
What if you just want to run for the sake of running and meet some people along the way— free from comparison or pressure?
That’s why I created N.A.R.C (Not Another Run Club).
Just running, together.
N.A.R.C isn’t for everyone.
If you’re looking to boost your ego, compare yourself to others, or make running about status — this probably isn’t your spot.
If you want a run club where pace, gear, or race results define you, there are plenty of options out there.
But if you’re looking for a space where people show up without expectations...
Where your only competition is yourself...
Where it doesn’t matter if you’re first, last, or somewhere in between...
Then, welcome.
Too often, run clubs turn into quiet competitions:
Who’s the fastest?
Who’s training for the biggest race?
Who’s got the newest shoes or fanciest watch?
N.A.R.C isn’t about any of that.
It’s about showing up as you are, running how you want to, and supporting others along the way.
It’s about celebrating movement for the sake of movement — not for a medal, not for a segment, and not just for the post-run beer (though we’re not against it).
Running can be as simple or as complicated as you make it.
I wanted to strip it down to what really matters:
Community. Consistency. Joy.
When you show up to N.A.R.C:
You will be greeted.
You will be seen.
You will be respected.
You will be celebrated.
This isn’t just about running.
It’s about creating a space where everyone feels welcome.
Whether it’s your first mile or your hundredth race, you belong here.
But that also means we have a few simple rules:
— Respect everyone. We move together and leave egos at the door.
— No pace shaming. Fast, slow, or in-between, it doesn’t matter.
— Come as you are. No expectations. No judgment. Just show up.
— Leave no one behind. Walk, jog, or sprint, we get back together.
— Community first. N.A.R.C isn’t just a run club. It’s connection.
My senior year of high school, we lost assigned lunch seating.
I genuinely thought I might die.
Up until then, lunch was predictable:
Sit where they tell you. Eat the questionable pizza square. Zone out until the bell.
Structure. Simplicity. Safety.
Then suddenly: freedom.
“Sit wherever you want,” they said.
Which, for some kids, meant confidently claiming their spot at the cool table.
For me? It meant 45 minutes of existential crisis — five days a week.
I didn’t have a group.
I had people I talked to in very specific classes under very specific circumstances.
But lunch?
Lunch was different.
Lunch was sacred.
Lunch was social politics in real time.
So I bounced.
Table to table.
Sometimes I’d sit with the band kids.
Sometimes with the quiet overachievers.
Sometimes with the sports cliques.
I was a lunchroom nomad.
Never too close. Never fully in. Just passing through.
I never found my table— just sat at the open spot where I knew at least one name, and hoped that was enough to stay.
That experience? It stuck with me.
It’s probably why I care so much about making spaces where people don’t have to guess where or if they belong.
You show up — and we make space.
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