Much of my free time is spent running. Six days a week, from three to fifteen miles a day (usually), and countless hours that other people probably spent on useful things like studying, volunteering, or writing operas. My biggest pastime is invisible, eating up time with nothing to show at the end but contentment. Well, I suppose I often enough got little ribbons or medals out of it, along with whatever food or tee shirts the random organizers decided to give out, but current conditions seem to preclude racing, particularly the long or middle distance trail racing I prefer. In all, though, I do not think I could have better spent those countless hours. Running keeps me calm, and gives me companionship in strange places. I have been a runner and a racer for eight or so years now, and I do not doubt that I will stay a runner until my knees give out.
Husky Running Club
Dawg Dash, October 2017 & 2018
Why is a 6K called a dash? Surely, as a society, we agree that one cannot dash more than one or two kilometers at most. And yet, there it is, emblazoned on two of my tee shirts along with the names of various sponsors. The first of the two, done when I was a wee freshman, I followed close behind a woman wearing a Boston Marathon shirt and came in at around 41:30 or so, which is pretty good. The second time, I moseyed along with some friends from HRC and clocked about 46 minutes, having aimed for a good run rather than a strong race. Afterwards, we all retired to a big pancake breakfast at Elena's apartment, with her special blackberry syrup as a topping.
Mt. Si Half Marathon, April 2018
In the spring, I ran my first half marathon. It was not the longest race I had run (that one was 20.1 miles), but it was the first long distance race I had done as a full-fledged college student. I placed fifth for women, then made a beeline for the refreshments tent and ate several cups of gummy bears, as is my right as a winning athlete. It had been a strange race, since I had forgotten my inhaler but still kept up 7:00 minute times. Anyway, if you're not pleasantly suffering in some way, you're clearly not running fast enough.
Mt. Si Relay Race, April 2019
I spent the early spring training out on San Juan Island, in the mornings before breakfast in the lab mess hall. When the day came, I leapt in my car after class on Friday and drove south to Seattle, playing chauffeur for two of my classmates who had tickets to a concert in the city. I crashed at my friend's apartment and got up the next morning with the rest of the team as Driver Number 2 for the long distance relay race, which runs down the Snoqualmie Valley Trail up through Iron Horse State Park and back again, beside the river and below the gray steep peak. The day was clear. My longest leg was some eight miles, the other a little less, two out-and-backs where I climbed for the first half and then dropped all I'd gained in the second. The trick was to pass other runners on the uphill and then just torpedo down the return, letting gravity give you speed. We ended up getting second, little bright red ribbons, but I wasn't there for the photo finish because I jumped back in my car as soon as my leg was done, picked up my classmates, and drove back to catch the ferry to San Juan. I can't complain about a day spent running, though.
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Header image: my dog at Lake Whatcom Park, Bellingham, WA. Description: a cobbly beach by a gray lake, with forested hills obscured by clouds in the distance. In the midground, a large, shaggy black dog hunches over a waterlogged stick.