I see the point and willingly concede that, yes, I need to make an effort to entertain a subject matter more befitting of an audience of readers rather than an audience of runners.
I'm not sure where this one will fall, but please know that I'm trying.
On the heels of the Eugene Marathon, I’ve decided to forgo the traditional post-marathon-Kyle-and-Stephanie-perspective blog (sorry--I know those have been a hit in the past), and write a more open-ended recollection--reflective narrative, if you will--on my experience in Oregon.
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Though they both centered on running, traveling for a marathon in Eugene bore no mental similarity to traveling for one D.C. The trips sprouted from two very different sources. Heading to Washington felt like a combination of vacation, sightseeing, and catching up. While there, Stephanie and I spent much of our time with Dan and Sara, and occupied ourselves with the sites and scenes in the nation's capital. We didn't see any Fleet Feet teammates until the day of the race, and didn't have a chance to talk or visit until long after the run. In Eugene, though, the teammates played a central role in the journey. Dinners, breakfasts, easy jogs, race expos--the spare moments all included the neurotic ramblings and perpetual nervousness of over-trained runners. We mentioned our ambitions frequently, told war stories from previous races, gossiped about local runs, and made finicky complaints about meal contents and the particular comfort level of the hotel bed. Eugene wasn't a vacation, but a long, slow lead-in to a monumental task.
I loved the experience, but it was certainly a shift from the, oh-I'll-just-run-this-marathon-in-between-stops-at-the-Portrait-Gallery-and-lunch-at-Busboys-and-Poets sentiment I realize now I enjoyed back in October.
Marine Corps is "The People's Marathon." It boasts a rich tradition that spans across decades. Even though Eugene is a baby by comparison, people still react with disbelief when they find it's merely six years old.
Race shirts and maps bear the phrase, “Running in the footsteps of legends,” a slogan that conjures up images of black and white photographs, ill-fitting race singlets, and a variety of mustaches. What many just outside the running community don’t know is that Eugene, OR, is "Track Town, U.S.A.” It earned the name because of the track and field athletes, along with the coaches and visionaries hailing from the region and the University of Oregon. Eugene can claim its ties to the founding of Nike, the glory and tragedy associated with Oregon's own Steve Prefontaine, and the storied lanes of Hayward Field, home to a series of U.S. Track and Field Olympic Trials events (the countdown to this year's trials is currently ticking away on a billboard on 6th Avenue).
All of these facets make racing in Eugene a bit different than Sacramento, Washington D.C., or even Boston. It wasn't just the size of the crowds or entrants in Eugene that solidified this, but the comments from those I passed. Some marathons offer only a string of witty signs (“Worst Parade Ever!” and “Pain is temporary, pride is forever!” are staples, as is, “You’re almost there!” which people always seem to decide is best shown in the first 10 miles, for some reason). Eugene had its share of these, but much of the support on the course reflected the run-centric nature of the town.
Take, for example, the many verbal notes we received directed at the strength of our strides. In the later miles along the south banks of the Willamette, passersby (note: not spectators at this point, just those out for their own jogs or bike rides) commented on how I was maintaining my speed or moving my arms. At one point, a mother commented to her very young son, “Look! Those two are teammates working together!” The content was all technical and specified.
I failed to notice this when running in Washington last October, likely because I figured comments on my racing uniform were directed at the fact that supporters couldn’t believe someone had ventured from Sacramento to run their city’s marathon. But in Eugene, I realized something different. Our Fleet Feet uniforms garnered attention not because they bore the name of our city, but because they represented an organization of runners and competitors, something people in Eugene can certainly appreciate.
Given Eugene's emphasis on track and field—along with its budding status as a marathon locale—it is easy for visitors to harbor misconceptions about the amount of off-road running one can do in Eugene and the surrounding areas. It’s not hard to find instructions for this (we received two trail running maps in the lobby of a nearby motel on our first night in town). Despite the options, the easiest and most inviting choice for trail running is Pre’s Trail, a short and soft track composed of dirt and wood chips that meanders through a glen of trees on the north bank of the Willamette.
Pre's trail is the only place I've run where I thought, Sacramento needs something similar to serve the needs of its running community. Too often the best option is the American River Parkway--which is certainly the "gem" the city professes it to be, don't get me wrong. Yet the paved Parkway is a combination training ground, dog park, race track, cyclist course, and picnic zone. Pre's Trail is pathway for runners. It's the only place where you can, as one fellow runner showed us, announce you're "doing a Fartlek" and be sure everyone understands why you need space on the left to zip by.
Let me be clear: I don't want to live in a place like Track Town, U.S.A. I also don't want to create in California's capital city a culture only catering to the serious runners. However, I do think resources and outlets descendant from the world of running--not from runner training or race promotion or fitness programs or adventurer coexistence, but from the pure and primal place that compels people to stride through the world--would go a long way. I think every interest should have a place to call its own, and I think Eugene provides a blueprint large enough to, if we snatched a few components, help other places get on track.
