Maybe it was in late August of 1999. The first day of cross-country practice. The air was hot and dry. I chose cross-country over volleyball. Yet, even five minutes before we headed out for the first practice run of the season, I still thought I was making the biggest mistake of my young adult life. There was no way I would survive the 3 mile run on the first day. Coach asked two of the more seasoned cross country runners to lead the way. I had to keep up with them since I did not know the route. The hot tar strips on the country roads pulled at my white Reeboks, begging them not to take another step. I tried my best to just survive the run. Success! I ran 3 miles that day without dying, passing out, or needing a knee replacement. Something happened to me that day after that run. I got my first runner's high. I wanted to run again. I wanted to feel that pain again. I wanted to see if I could go even faster and further than I had that day.
I ran four seasons of cross-country and track like a lot high school kids. Unlike a lot of college kids, I kept running. I ran on my own. For fun. I discovered a club team my sophomore year which helped me better my 5K times. For some crazy reason, it wasn't enough to feed my running passion. On my own, I'd run longer and longer. My knees would always begin to hurt after about 70min, but slowly that pain began to subside and I could go almost two hours without any pain. At age 20 I ran my first marathon. I qualified for Boston with no training. The punishing long distance of 26.2 was my calling.
I don't know the exact date I became an obsessive runner. The kind of runner that has to run to live and lives to run. The kind of runner who panics a the slightest twinge in my knee. The kind of runner who goes to bed early so I can run 20miles at 6am. The kind of runner who has lots of running friends and likes to go out and talk about running after runs. The kind of runner who has a massage therapist. The kind of runner who forces themselves to do track workouts, tempo runs, daily doubles without a watchful coach's eye. The kind of runner who works at a running store, coaches runners, owns a running training program business, writes for a running magazine, and teaches running classes at the University of Oregon. But at some point during my running timeline, everything had changed.
Yes, its seems that now I am a runner. Not just a runner, but a 5K runner, a 10K runner, a half marathon runner, marathon runner, and now an ultra-marathon runner, and every runner in between. I date a runner, I socialize with runners, I have converted non-runners into runners, and I search out new runners to run with. I am living the running dream in Eugene, Oregon. I had a calling to move out here over two years ago. Something pulling me 2,000 miles away from my family and friends to an unknown world on the West Coast. I packed up a truck with a few pieces of furniture, several pairs of running shoes and 4 Prefontaine posters which have decorated my walls since I was a junior in college. I made the long journey to a city that I knew only as Tracktown USA and nothing more. Its now so much more. Eugene has become my home, and its runners my family, just as much as I have become a runner.
