Talking the Terrain: Co-Running with a Visually Impaired Partner in Leiden

I met Martijn at our usual spot, by Lammenschans Station. He has taken the bus from Voorschoten and I have a short jog from my place. If we have a regular run, it is this one: on a Monday at 11am or midday. We do a 12km loop from Leiden and then through Voorschoten. The run ends when Martijn stops at a bus stop which then takes him back to Voorschoten. I then run a bit further home (about 1.5km away). 

Bruggetje … drie … twee … een …  [Small bridge coming up: 3,2,1…]

The wind is blowing hard: it is a strong westerly wind, which means the first part of run will be into it, before becoming a bit more sheltered. We are running ‘down’ de Vliet - roughly in the direction of The Hague. There are wavelets on the canal. I have to raise my voice to be heard. As we go up a small bridge (bruggetje) Martijn stumbles. “Owing to the wind, I wasn’t lifting my feet as high as I usually would.” “I should have said something,” I add, to which he replies, “no, no, no problem.” It’s another minor moment, or negotiation of working out what needs to be made explicit; to be voiced. 

Wij gaan naar rechts … drie … twee … een … [We’re going right: 3,2,1…]

I ask Martijn why he runs. “This is my uitlaatklep.” He can’t immediately find the English term for this word. It quickly emerges that it is “exhaust”. Martijn adds, “music is my uitlaatklep for my emotions; while running helps get rid of the stress.” He returns the question: “why do you do it?” I tell him it’s basically the same reason. Yes, part of me wants to go faster (the ‘athlete’ part), but even if that weren’t a part of me, I’d still be running slowly. I haven’t thought of running in this way:  but I have thought of it as an ‘outlet’ … which almost sounds like ‘uitlaat’. 

Omhoog een beetje … Omlaag een beetje … [A little bit up…A little bit down]

I say to Martijn, “when people hear of ‘running blind’, I often hear them say, almost in astonishment: is that possible? It must be dangerous.” I wonder: is there anything he is afraid of? “I’m sometimes afraid that my buddy will have me too loose and then I’ll run into a pole.” Again, Martijn returns the question: “what are you afraid of?” “That I’ll be too busy having a normal conversation and I’ll get distracted and forget to give an indication of the upcoming obstacles.” 

Fietser tegen … [Cyclist coming from the other direction]

“I find it difficult to run in Leiden - in the city centre, that is. I feel comfortable along here, de Vliet and in Cronestyn park … but in the city, the footpaths are uneven and there are too many curbs and small obstacles. You can’t get in the flow and relax.”

I narrate the footpath that we run across. The wind blows against us and we then both enjoy it when it is at our backs. I lengthen and shorten the tether depending on the relative dangers of the passing cars or bicycles. But this is a low stress run. It is also an opportunity for me to practice my guidance: so, if anything, I over-state the approximate dangers. Martijn gives me his own running-commentary on my observations. 

Loos lopende hond … [There is a dog off the leash…]

I have realised Martijn is not only becoming a friend of mine, but he has also passed my name on to other runners who are also looking for a co-runner. I’ve signed up for a half-marathon (The Hague) and a full-marathon (Utrecht) as a co-runner. Martijn knows of my plans to run the CPC Den Haag Half-Marathon with another member of Running Blind: ‘Job’. He tells me, “When Job joined Running Blind … He was this young, shy guy … who used to be a very good footballer. But from one day to the next, his eyesight went from fine to blurry. He asked me, ‘how do I do this?’ ‘How do I find the right guide?’ I said that you just have to ask the right person - and don’t be shy about it. He asked Merel and in the end, he won the national Running Blind competition together at the Zevenheuvelenloop.” He continues, “Job is a good half-marathon runner, I’m sure. When you are there, you have to shout, “Running Blind! We’re passing, on your left!’” He stresses to me to use English owing to the number of international recreational runners who take part. 

The more I have done these runs with Martijn, the more subtle our exchanges have become. I’ve been able to switch quicker between ‘conversation’ and ‘instruction’. I feel the running has become less about the guidance and more about the shared moments of trust: which are articulated by the tether itself. Sometimes it is tight, sometimes it is loose.