There’s a park I run regularly. Folks come and go; lots of new faces every week, as I live in a very touristy area. But there’s maybe 10-15 of us regulars who see each other if not weekly, then at least a couple times each month. Been like that for more than a decade. In that time, we’ve all aged, of course, and some no longer run, but are out there walking. One moved to a bike. Another I only see sporadically and he limps with a walker now. We don’t know each others’ names, have never spoken more than a brief hello, or comment on how stupidly hot it is. But we smile and nod or wave every time we see each other. We’re genuinely happy to see one another every time. And the joy of that is something I’m at a loss to put into words. It’s entirely possible some of them are terrible people who would despise me if they knew anything about me or vice-versa… but when we’re out there doing the thing we love, we’re a united community. I love that so much.call them my “running friends.” Same as you said, I’ve never exchanged more than a quick “hello” with the vast majority of them. I worry when I don’t see some of them for awhile. I always wonder if they worry about me when I’m not out there.