“You should join a marathon training running club” was the epitome of the worst weight loss advice I’ve ever gotten from a doctor. 

Followed closely by another doctor that advised “you should just embrace your hunger” and “only eat half a bagel for breakfast instead of the whole thing.” As if I was tipping the scales at over 300 pounds simply because I was embracing the wrong half of a bagel? 

I was visiting the doctor because I had discovered a sizable lump in my back around where I imagined my right kidney might live. I couldn’t feel a similar lump on the other side, so I was concerned that it was some sort of lipoma (fatty tumor), typically benign but I wanted to make sure. He was a tall, lean man. Hauntingly gaunt. The kind of guy that clearly never struggled with his weight — or the second half of a bagel — a day in his life. 

He was dismissive of me from the start. 

Not an uncommon experience for morbidly obese people seeking medical help. He spent no more than 3 seconds palpating the lump and declared “I could try to take a biopsy sample with a needle, but honestly you are so fat I wouldn’t know if the fat I got was from you or from the lump.” Followed by the zinger “you should join a marathon training running club like I belong to.” In other words, “unless you are skinny (like me), you aren’t worthy of quality medical care.” 

I don’t typically struggle with self-worth issues, even when I was at my heaviest, but that was a rough doctor visit. I’d never had a doctor so blatantly refuse to help me and I’ll admit I left his office with no shortage of negative “I don’t deserve to be healthy” narratives running in my head. That interaction stuck with me and 10 years later I still haven’t approached another doctor to look at my lump.

It’s more than a little ironic that I now organize a running club.

I’ve written before about my journey of becoming a runner. I used to hide behind the bleachers in junior high in a desperate attempt to avoid having to run in gym class. Running is certainly not an activity I ever imagined myself doing willingly, much less enjoying. 

My first experience with a running club came from talking with our friend Melody at our weekly Weight Watchers meeting. Glenn and I had been doing the “couch to 5k” program and we were talking to her about our experience. She said, “you should try a half-marathon.” She took our guffaw in stride and proceeded to explain how she had done it by joining a half-marathon training running club. 

Basically, every Saturday you’d show up at a location with a bunch of strangers and run a route they had outlined for you. The routes varied and they increased the mileage by one mile each weekend. I could hardly jog three miles at the time, and a half-marathon seemed an impossible feat. But, one weekend at a time, we gradually increased our distance until – wouldn’t you know it – I could run a (very slow) half-marathon. 

Glenn and I have tried a few running clubs since then. Some have been great, others not so much. We pulled some friends into doing them with us and over time built up a solid core group of weekend runners. With many of these lovely friends I’ve enjoyed creating our own Harry Potter themed fun runs, and learning that “team” isn’t necessarily a 4-letter word.

Eventually that group of friends decided that instead of paying money to a running store to organize routes that we didn’t always like, that we’d start our own running club. 

Running in the Buff was born. 

The name comes from Glenn’s fixation with buffs – the tubes of fabric that most people wear on their heads, but for which Glenn has devised any number of creative uses. Glenn is on a mission to share the gospel of the buff with any that will listen. Everyone that comes out to join us is gifted a buff from Glenn…the uglier the buff, the better. 

I set out to ensure that Running in the Buff embodied everything that I loved about the running clubs we tried, and none of the stuff I hated. I didn’t want any competition, or any focus on speed or distance or coaches telling you your form was wrong.

I wanted it to be a welcoming, inclusive and supportive experience, filled with comradery and laughs. I wanted to introduce people to new places to explore around our beautiful city. We call it a “shoggling” club (shuffling + jogging + jiggling = shoggling) instead of a running club because it’s just about getting out and moving. 

Running in the Buff is made up of people that are running long distances at 8-minute miles, to folks that are just out for a lovely stroll. Runners, walkers, friends, family, strangers, kids and dogs…all are welcomed and all are bequeathed a buff from Glenn. There is no expectation that you go fast or go far…the only expectation is that you roll out of bed, show up and have fun! 

Over the years, I’ve found that I do better at taking care of myself when I am busy helping others take care of themselves. The times I’ve been most dedicated to running in my life are the times when I am helping someone else do it for the first time. For me, organizing this shoggling club gives me something to focus on that gets me out and active. I know there are several people that are looking forward to showing up, so that means I must be motivated to show up for them as well. A virtuous cycle. 

I’m sure this isn’t necessarily what the asshole doctor dude meant when he suggested I join a marathon training club. There is a certain satisfaction in taking his advice, flipping it on its head, and making it my own.  

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get the email out to the Running in the Buff group about our next shoggling route. Then I’m going to go eat a bagel. The whole damn thing! 

If you live in the Portland (Oregon) area and would like to give Running in the Buff a try, leave a comment below with your contact information and I’ll add you to the distribution list!