I recently ran the Edmonton half marathon for what was probably the tenth time (and my worst showing thanks to an injury-filled summer of training and racing) but I did manage to take a few solid shots of the start line and the course.
I’m not gonna be published in a magazine any time soon, but a few action shots of the in progress race from a runners perspective was (in my opinion) worth lugging my phone in hand and popping open the camera a few times.
But I had almost brought a better camera. I had stood there as I was getting ready for my run that morning, holding my GoPro in my hand and overthinking it.
I left it at home.
I would not have been alone, though. I saw more than a few guys—always guys—carrying their action cams out in front of them as they ran the course that morning. Like me, they are probably not compelled by some urge to create content for social media or make bullshit running content online, but rather are driven by a insatiable confluence of hobbies to take interesting photos or footage of their lives as they live them. These were not influencers—I saw a couple of those too—but rather shaky video guys, nerdy blokes with tech, documenting their latest adventure.
And I’m hardly one to suggest this is bad thing. I do it. Jeeze, do I ever do it. I only left the GoPro at home because I started pondering just how much I realistically wanted to carry through a race given how I was feeling about my health status as the looming heat of the day.
But being the dude with the GoPro in a serious race does mark you out. Are you a runner or a photographer lost on marathon course? Are you a racer—or a tourist?
I wouldn’t change my penchant for photography in these situations, but sometimes I do need to ponder what I must look like trotting along while pointing even a phone camera lens out ahead of me, snapping pics and shifting my focus in those moments I should be enjoying the moment and not the opportunity.
