Always running

It's coming up on 9 o'clock. Here I am in my running shorts and T-shirt, getting ready to head out the door for yet another neighborhood run. A nice way to start a day off during the week.

The title of this post is taken from a book on gang-banging by Luis Rodriguez that I read several years ago. It was quite good and I'd recommend it to anyone who wants to better understand la vida loca. And while there's nothing about me that's come remotely close to that way of life, the book title has always stuck in my head.

In my case, always running takes on a different meaning. Except for a period in my 20s, when I took an inexplicable break from it, I've been a runner since high school, starting with the half-mile (you'd call it the 800 meters now), moving up to the one-mile (1500 meters today) and then the 3-mile run (roughly equivalent to the 5000 meters), experiencing more success at each level.

Turns out I was too slow for the half (with only two laps, it's more of a dash/sprint). I did manage a 4:38 mile as a junior, but did even better at 3 miles -- 15:22, an average of 5:07 per mile, and wound up with a top 10 finish at finals that earned me All-League honors and helped our team win the league championship. (Geez, I sound like someone in Springsteen's "Glory Days.")

Anyway, I run because of the sense of freedom and the sense of solitude. I've run three half-marathons (in Portland, Seattle and Anchorage), one full marathon and countless 10-Ks. I've also done Hood to Coast (the 192-mile team relay race) a couple times, but I don't enter those events anymore. Instead, I head to Tryon Creek (above, photo by Gary Halvorson, Oregon State Archives) or to Hoyt Arboretum, Oaks Bottom, Forest Park, the Eastbank Esplanade, Springwater Corridor on weekends. During the week, it's out the door and all around the neighborhood -- ranging up to Ainsworth, down to Hawthorne, west to the river, east to 82nd and sometimes beyond.

I run in the sun or the rain, sometimes after a snowfall, and almost always in the morning, usually only two or three times a week, four to five miles at a time. When I was traveling a lot for work, I'd head out from my hotel and explore. I ran trails in Columbia, Mo.; I ran along the water in Miami and St. Petersburg, Fla.; and past forlorn, abandoned homes in Detroit (probably not the smartest move) where drug-addled men were either sound asleep or groggily stirring awake. I've run in L.A. and NYC, in steaming-hot Dallas and in Midwest college towns like Evanston, Muncie and Iowa City.

I even ran from one state to another: From Bismarck, South Dakota, I crossed a bridge over the Missouri River into Mandan, North Dakota.

So why do I do it? Well, clearly you can do it anywhere, anytime as long as you've got a pair of running shoes and a light jacket for cooler weather. I like the variety that comes with running different routes. I like the quiet time to collect my thoughts, see new or familiar sights and listen to my favorite songs on my iPod. I don't run as far or nearly as fast as I used to, but I suspect I'll keep doing it until a knee, an ankle or an Achilles tendon gives out on me.