Fitness and running clubs have become a post-pandemic social oasis

On her first outing with a running club, Bria Black got passed. A lot.

“They were so sweet and so welcoming, but they were like, eight-minute pace marathoners,” she said. “I had never even ran before, so when we were running together, they would just pass me up,” Black said. “They would be encouraging, like, ‘Go Bria, good job!’ And I’m like, ‘I feel like I don’t fit in.’”

But she felt like something was missing — a place where she belonged as both an inexperienced runner and a person of color. Her Instagram followers had a suggestion.

“‘Y’all, I wanna go to a run club so bad,’ ” she recalled posting. “They were like, just start one.”

Thus, Run BLK was born.

The group, which centers Black runners and walkers but is open to all and includes people of all abilities, has ballooned to a weekly event, with 50 to 100 participants. The runs begin with an icebreaker session and a warmup so people can get to know each other.

“We’re trying to introduce a new type of lifestyle that promotes healthy habits that’s accessible, because there’s no cost of entry,” she said. “It’s just like, come as you are, do what feels good to your body, wherever you are, whoever you are, you’re welcome.”

Run BLK is one of many exercise groups created post-pandemic in cities including Minneapolis, Duluth, Charlottesville and Atlanta.

Participants and organizers say new preferences are driving the trend: A desire to connect with people without alcohol, a longing for cheaper ways to socialize, and an interest in different ways to spend time together.

Minneapolis Residents have exercised together at Mill City Running since 2013, but owner Jeff Metzdorff says interest surged after the pandemic. Metzdorff believes that social distancing stirred that interest, driving residents to search for accessible communities outside of their computer screens. Mill City Running events that attracted 100 people years ago draw twice as many now, and many of those people develop lifelong relationships.

“Running is having its moment. You’re seeing fashion trends that are derived out of athletic looks, and you’re seeing that reflected in what people are wearing at their runs,” Metzdorff said, adding that five couples have either proposed at Mill City Running or met at the club and proposed later.

“So you’re seeing this intersection of the social nature of it, the sports component of it, and also the cultural component where it’s becoming cool to run.”

Brogan Graham has founded multiple exercise groups over the years, including MN Training Group, an extreme, invite-only workout in the Twin Cities area that gathers around 100 people weekly. He will end the project this September but plans to counsel others who want to start their own exercise groups.

Graham has seen a rise in exercise groups since the pandemic, noting some that opened spaces for people of color, LGBTQ+ people and those who want low or high-intensity workouts. He says more people want a “third space” to gather and socialize outside of work and home, and exercise has become a way to find that space.

“There’s something about gathering and movement, sharing an experience and socialization that draws people out of their shell, and it helps create community,” Graham said. “It does feel good to be surrounded by folks that have similar or like identities. You know, you feel like you belong. And I think that it’s really unique to Minneapolis, that there are so many ways to connect different kinds of communities.”

Before Dustin Modrow joined OutClimb, a climbing community for LGBTQ+ people, he hadn’t met any queer people who climbed. But Modrow found camaraderie in the group and feels more comfortable in the sport.

“Going out there with people who might talk about your body in a way that you’re not a fan of, or a microaggression, is really something you don’t want while you’re already stressing out about how your climb went,” Modrow said.

More cities in Minnesota have also seen a growth in exercise groups.

Ansel Schimpff, the executive director of the Duluth mountain biking group Cyclists of Gitchee Gumee Shores, said more locals want to bike and socialize together — though the cost of equipment has tempered interest. Duluth also hosts Grandma’s Marathon, a yearly race that’s grown from 150 racers in 1977 to one of the nation’s largest marathons with more than 7,555 participants this year — the most racers ever recorded for the event.

Running has become a medical aid for Minnesotans like Brandon Turrubiartes.

Turrubiartes founded the Ambition Required run club in Minnesota three years ago, expanding to host runs in Texas and Illinois. The Minnesota club draws dozens of people each week. He used to share stories on social media about finding dates within run clubs, but stopped to focus on health.

Though he didn’t find a fairytale romance, Turrubiartes said running calms his severe anxiety and has improved other runners’ relationship with themselves. Turrubiartes noticed more people struggling with mental health after the pandemic who use outdoor exercise clubs to heal.

For 37-year-old Jocelyn McQuirter, last Wednesday was one of many runs with Run BLK that began on Juneteenth. McQuirter has run with friends for years, but she enjoys exercising with the group and wants to be a positive example for her 7-year-old son.

Tiffany Daniels said she’s excited to meet more Minnesotans. She moved from Missouri three years ago but marked her first exercise with Run BLK this month. As she stretched to the beat of DJ Snake and Lil Jon’s song “Turn Down for What,” her five-year-old hopped along and her two-year-old yelled from his stroller.

“I don’t have to get a babysitter. I can go out and be social around other people but also bring my kids with me and also have them doing something that is active, which is an important part of our lifestyle,” Daniels said. “I’m hoping that we meet people and make it a normal occurrence for me and for my kids.”

Daniels and others then gathered to embrace, smile and take a picture before turning toward Grand Rounds Trail. Some attendees walked. Others ran. None were excluded, not even Gumbo, the 6-year-old Bernedoodle dog who was panting while following the pack.