The runner moves through life, either knowingly or unknowingly leaving a trail of heartbreak behind. Unaware of their heartache or the reasons they continue to run when a relationship begins to feel secure, they leave those they love struggling to understand a behavior that can seem incomprehensible. Since I began writing about this "runner" pattern, I’ve received countless messages asking how it can be addressed—first to understand, then to transform it—as it brings pain not only to those left behind but also to the runner. This article aims to shed light on this behavior and the work involved in addressing it.
The runner is a person filled with contradictions, as we all are. But perhaps their deepest struggle is between the desire for love and the inability to fully embrace it, feeling unable to sustain a relationship despite longing for one. It’s human nature to complicate life in a quest for understanding, to journey into the complex unconscious, often to one day realize the answers were simple all along. We often follow the world’s distractions and expectations, letting them shape our minds.
Until someone develops a clear vision of life, it’s natural to try what we think should work, even if it leads us through emotional turmoil that clashes with our true beliefs and desires. Before knowing ourselves, we often try on identities that don’t fit—"before we know who we are, we have to see who we're not."
The trigger that prompts the runner to leave is an overwhelming sensation, a blend of the familiar and the mysterious. This feeling swells inside, filling them with emotion that stretches to the infinite, bringing on a kind of vertigo. In response, they do what they know best: they disappear, often with an explanation they believe makes sense.
Grasping this feeling is more important than any reasons or justifications they may have. These explanations are often contradictory and ultimately futile. In a world that preys on people’s vulnerabilities by telling them they are limited, it’s not surprising that the runner’s reaction is one of fear or panic.
The runner’s past likely involves painful or abusive relationships—experiences that may have shaped their connection to love and intimacy. They may have endured rejection or abuse from an early age, whether verbal, physical, sexual, or more subtly controlling dynamics. Those who should have protected them instead misused their power, teaching the runner that love is not a safe space.
Ironically, the runner still seeks love and eagerly explores new relationships. It's not that they don’t want to be loved; rather, they struggle to accept it. Over time, rejection or avoidance of love can become a habit. They may be charming and creative at first, drawing someone in with an enchanting start to the relationship.
But once they’ve established a connection, they often lose momentum. They may seek to recreate an ideal they hold in their minds, believing that once everything is set, the relationship will flow effortlessly. However, they lack a vision beyond this point, having no experience of deeper love to guide them. Without realizing it, they recreate what they know.
The urge to leave comes from an inability to exist in spaces of safe, trusting love. It’s not so much a lack of trust in their partner but in love itself. This feeling can be like facing an insurmountable wall that leaves them exhausted and discouraged just by imagining what lies beyond. It transports them to a different dimension, one filled with the unknown.
No one enters the unknown fully prepared, and it's natural to stumble before finding a sense of flow. For many, the lure of returning to a comfort zone is strong. For the runner, the shift from love to vertigo happens almost instantly, sometimes in seconds, and this sudden wave of emotion can be overwhelming. It brings an intense awareness of being alone again, which often triggers panic. From here, they face a choice: stay and weather the storm of emotions or retreat to familiar patterns. Staying requires courage and patience, while retreating may feel easier, even if uncomfortable, often dressed up in poetic justifications to avoid the leap into the unknown that true love demands.
The answers to our struggles often lie within the stories we tell ourselves, but people tend to craft narratives they want to believe. It’s essential to see the runner clearly, not through a romantic lens. In their comfort zone, runners can be manipulative, charming others with mystery and mystique, which may seem like freedom but is often a means of control. They may even cast themselves as victims, subtly shifting blame onto their partners, as if saying, “It’s not you, it’s me” actually means, “I wish you had saved me from this vulnerability I shared with you.”
At a certain point, the runner numbs their feelings—a defense mechanism that results in a coldness painful for both them and their partner. Partners feel used and abandoned, while the runner finds themselves isolated in emotional numbness that doesn’t feel like home. Living in such a state is unsustainable; eventually, the runner will seek warmth and connection again. They drift from lover to lover, losing touch with their heart, sometimes constructing a self-myth that they’re teaching others how to love. Unaware of their detachment, they move on, often without compassion, convinced a new lover will bring the answers. Yet, the new relationship often recycles the same unresolved emotions, giving temporary relief but leaving them worse off.
Sometimes, the runner encounters controlling partners who sense the instability and try to hold onto them. Runners often hint at leaving from the start, creating a dynamic where their partner feels compelled to chase them. In these cases, runners may leave abruptly, setting emotional traps that provoke reactions, then blame their partner for responding. It’s a form of provocation aimed at the heart, and resisting this bait can be nearly impossible because it’s deeply painful.
However, the runner is not inherently a bad person—they are learning, like everyone else, how to navigate their way back to love. On the other hand, the chaser may develop controlling behaviors out of fear, which stifles both love and creativity. Without these essential elements, a relationship cannot thrive. Fear is paralyzing, affecting both partners and draining the relationship.
There’s no one-size-fits-all solution, as each runner has unique triggers and histories. Ideally, the path forward is simple: stay, stop running, and embrace the unknown with openness and a love for life itself. Instead of escaping the emotional discomfort, runners could channel that energy into creating a relationship filled with love, harmony, and abundance. But this requires a conscious decision to stay and explore the unknown.
The universal pitfall for runners is reacting to unprocessed emotions by blaming the other person and fleeing. They may believe that without their partner, they would be safe, but in truth, running only brings them back to the same unresolved issues with a different face. A temporary sense of safety follows, but it’s just an illusion.
Understanding a runner’s personal history can reveal where these triggers begin, pointing to ways of responding that foster growth. The runner’s reaction is less about their current partner and more about unresolved feelings rooted in past experiences. Embracing these feelings instead of running from them is key to breaking the cycle.
The urge to run runs so deep in the runner that even when working with clients who face this pattern, they often withdraw for extended periods—despite being in a professional setting with clear boundaries and a safe space to explore the emotional intensity that feels overwhelming in a romantic relationship.
Gestalt techniques and psychodrama provide powerful methods for exploring this pattern, uncovering the fears that drive the urge to escape, and revealing the runner's strengths and confidence. These approaches help show the runner that love can be safe and that staying with someone they genuinely want to be with can be more rewarding than frightening.
It’s time for the world to recognize that love is the safest place we can be.
They say curiosity killed the cat, but I believe it’s the lack of curiosity that’s truly harming humanity—our reluctance to be curious about love, adventure, discovering who we are, and expressing the boundless potential of our true selves.
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