During one of my runs last week, I did something I don’t normally do.

A friend and I had organised to run together and have coffee afterwards. (Many times, I think the only reason we actually run is because of the coffee afterwards.)

Because we run at very different paces, we normally arrange to run the same route in opposite directions. That way, we at least see each other along the way, but I don’t hold him back.

Last week, though, my friend started much earlier than I did. And seeing as he runs so much faster than me, he obviously finished a long time before I did. In fact, I was hardly halfway through my run when he finished.

He then offered to run with me.

But you have to understand: his running with me basically means that he walks. And his walking pace is insanely fast. I can hardly keep up with it even while running.

After a few hundred metres, I stopped him.

“Listen. I love you, but I cannot keep doing this. Congratulations on your run, and thank you for coming to run with me, but please go home. I cannot have you walking beside me while I’m trying to keep up. It just makes me feel like such a failure.”

I felt terrible saying it. But I had to. I simply couldn’t do it anymore.

Thankfully, he seemed to understand and turned back. But he waited for me to finish my run and still had coffee with me afterwards, which was a lovely surprise.

He also sent me this message:

“The last thing I ever want to do is to make you feel bad in any way. I am glad you spoke up; friends can always speak up, and this is the only way the other person knows what is on your mind or your feelings.”

In some ways, I remember that morning as the day when trying to keep up with my friend made me feel like a failure.

I also remember feeling bad for asking him to stop, even though his intentions had been nothing but kind.

But perhaps most importantly, I remember it as the day I discovered that I could be completely honest and vulnerable with someone and be met with kindness.

I didn’t have to pretend I was fine.

I didn’t have to push through.

I didn’t have to worry that telling him how I felt would hurt our friendship. (Although I did worry about that a bit.)

He simply listened, understood, and stayed my friend.

And that made me realise that I have the best friend ever.

For that, I am so grateful.

I hope there are friends in your world who meet your vulnerability with kindness too. And I hope you dare to speak up — even when you’re scared of what might happen when you do.