Life’s Running Stages: To Run or Not To Run?
To run or not to run… Photo courtesy of Donna Avallone
For the majority of my 34 years, I have identified as a staunch non-runner. Rolling my eyes when passed by a group of runners, bonding with other non-runners over our decision to not be runners. Recalling gleefully a quote heard in some forgotten sitcom years ago (maybe it was How I Met Your Mother?)... something along the lines of, “It’s true that runners live longer, but that extra time is wasted, because it is spent running.” When I am my non-running self, I wave my banner high.
There have, however, been several periods throughout my life when my non-running self is superseded by a different me. A running me. The first of these periods was not when I ran track in 8th grade. When I ran track in 8th grade, I hated running. It wasn’t until 10th grade, when the teenage angst really set in, that my running career began. I was an army brat, so we lived in Germany, and just outside my neighborhood sat a gateway to miles and miles of the sweetest carfree paved tracts, dissecting farmlands, paralleling rivers, leading into quaint little courtyards within quaint little towns. All the while, whatever angsty or angry music of the early 2000’s blared through my earbuds. I’d run into and through my feelings, my anger (deserved or not) at my parents, my teachers, the popular girls, the hot boys who didn’t give me the time of day… it was so freeing. And I’d sprint when the chorus hit.
Fast forward to a long period of non-running interrupted by several short legs of running, like freshman year of college trying to outrun the freshman 15 (it caught up to me sophomore year). Or sophomore year, back in Germany for study abroad, trying to outrun yet another 15, a consequence of the exorbitant amounts of bread and beer I was ingesting. Or junior year when I joined the rowing team for one month. When it came time to pay $500 in dues (ahem, no thank you) I quit the team, but kept up with one of the warm-ups—running. This time, I wasn’t running away from anything. I was running for the joy of running. The joy of discovering the beautiful nooks and crannies of the city. To wake up with the lovely desert songbirds and fly along with them around the Tempe Town Lake and into the Scottsdale greenway, before the scorch of the Arizona sun set in. I’d run as an excuse to listen to music, to really listen to it! And once I’d get going, the feeling of strength and capability that ensued—it was so addicting. Listen to me, sounding like a runner…
I’m afraid, after junior year, my non-running self once again possessed my body. I discovered climbing, and the technical and physical problems presented therein far outshone any boring old run for a long period of time. And then Covid hit. By that point, after years of living in Portland, living in a hot springs retreat center, traveling the world, working on a pot farm—husband-to-be and I had temporarily settled in a sweet little shack along the WIllamette River here in Eugene.
And one fateful day, some dear friends invited me on a walk. Thinking this was going to be a short stroll along the river, I didn’t opt to pack a bag. It ended up being a 4-mile loop connecting the Owosso Bridge and the Greenway Bridge. A 4-mile hike in the wilderness without any sort of supplies is ingrained into me as very irresponsible. But for this little urban loop, it was fine! I walked these 4 miles with no problems whatsoever, no need for even a sip of water.
That’s what allowed me, a week or two later, in a tizzy and feeling the need to blow off steam, to say, you know what, just go for it. You can run the same route, and if you need to stop and walk it, you already know you can do that! What is there to lose? What better way to force yourself to do some distance, to not get lazy and turn around after 10 minutes?
And suddenly, I was once again a runner. I was running 12-16 miles a week. I quickly found myself in the best shape of my life. I had started off doing the loop in 1:30:00, and got it down to 55 minutes at my fastest, which was amazing for me. I felt so good. Then we bought a house and moved further south along the river. My beloved bridge loop was no longer perfectly splayed out for me. And I became a landscaper. My energy got tied up in digging out rootballs, hauling debris, squatting down over carpets of weeds for hours at a time. And then I had a baby. Running once again became a distant memory.
Then, a flash of the memory, of the desire for that feeling to no longer be a distant memory, slowly started to overtake me. My husband would get back from runs so annoyingly happy. It really pissed me off. I thought, “Ugh, runners are the worst” while simultaneously thinking, “I want that!”
But I couldn’t just become a runner again. It would require some investments. My old running shoes no longer fit onto my postpartum feet, which grew about a half-size. If I was going to be a runner again, I needed to invest in shoes! And not only that, I needed to invest in a running stroller so that I could take my toddler along for the ride, because I am not wasting the very limited amount of toddler-free time I get everyday on running.
So I bit the bullet, I shelled out $70 for a pair of discounted Altras. And I found a person on marketplace selling an ancient but still functioning Bob Running Stroller for $60. I’m only a few weeks into my most recent period of being a runner, and I gotta tell you, I am so happy. It’s the best $130 I could have spent. I am huffing and puffing and finding that glorious runner’s high that so vexes me when others have it and I don’t, and I am sprinting during the chorus.
I am once again discovering the beauty of our city via fastfeet: the turtles, herons, and plants of the delta ponds, the lovely trees that arch over the path all along the way, the various flocks of ducks and geese and turkeys, the sparkle of the Willamette as I cross a bridge and the welcome river wind that accompanies it. And the people who wave, smile, say hello. The best of the best are out there on our river path.
I’m going to ride this out for as long as I can. It’s very possible that in a few months when the rain and cold sets in, I’ll scoff at runners once more. But for now, I am a runner.
When she’s not contemplating running, Donna Avallone is meeting with architects, designers, and home gardeners as the creator of Over the Fence Tours, sharing with her audience beautiful views from unique and exceptional local gardens, parks, aquascapes, farms, and more. Find her on Youtube by searching for “Over the Fence Landscape Tours” or by clicking this link: youtube.com/@overthefencetours