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Running
with a Friend
Martha Blackwell
Loner. Whatever negative connotation that word may possess certainly doesn't apply to its meaning in my usage. After all, it's one of the words I use to describe myself. Loner. I enjoy going out to eat, whatever the meal, alone. I've seen more movies alone than with friends, and I love to walk solo along the beach or in the mountains with only my thoughts to pass the time. The polite way to describe a loner is "independent." I think I'm that as well; only that word applies more to the way I work than to how I live. Of course, I'm not a complete loner all the time. I have a husband, a daughter and a dog. I've also always been surrounded by a handful of friends. I can't imagine living completely alone, I just can't imagine living completely in the presence of other people.
Most long-distance runners are natural loners. We value our alone time as much as anything and choose to run for its permission to escape the crowds, to not have to participate in a team environment. We run miles and miles alone, time after time, oftentimes preferring the early morning or evening hours whenever no one is around. We eat alone to ensure we're getting the proper and adequate amount of fuel and often have to fall asleep alone due to the early evening fatigue that sets in following our demanding runs. Once in a while we'll participate in a group workout or choose to run with a friend, all the while looking forward to the following day's solo run.
This is how I'd always been as a runner. Even in college when I was required to work out in a team environment, I'd often find excuses to train alone. I didn't like talking while I ran or having to worry about running too fast or too slow for the rest of the pack. I didn't like being elbowed during 800 repeats, and I despised the sound of hearing someone else breathe. In competition, rather than running a smart race and working in a pack, I would (and still do) subconsciously choose to recreate my preferred environment by running alone. I ran this way following college as well, even more so. Once in a while I'd run with a friend, or later my husband, if we were on a vacation together, but 99 percent of my runs were completed alone. That was until I met Amy.
She and I used to pass one another running, alone, along Mountain Drive each Sunday morning. We'd wave or smile, but that was all. Then one day we recognized each other in a local shop and agreed, after discovering that we both had a baby the same age, to meet the following Sunday for a run. I was nervous that first Sunday morning. Nervous about meeting a new person, nervous about her being too fast or too slow, but most of all I was nervous about running with someone else. I honestly didn't know if I knew how to do it. It was challenging at first. Having to agree to a route, meeting time and pace instead of just heading out the door whenever and to wherever I desired. Feeling obligated to say something, anything, to fill the long stretches of silence in the same way someone wants to fill those moments while sitting across from a new date. It felt this way for several runs, then something changed, and I learned to run with her as comfortably as I'd always known how to run alone. Six months later, and countless long runs, tempos and track workouts completed with Amy, I often miss her on the one or two days each week I do run alone.
To celebrate our friendship and motherhood (and to get out of the house for the first time in more than a year), she and I recently took a three-night vacation to Portland, Oregon (see itinerary) to do what we love: run. I don't think I've ever had a better vacation. We spent the entire three days running, talking, eating, shopping and exploring. Yes it would have been wonderful to have run through Portland's Forest Park or along Eagle Creek off the Columbia Gorge alone with only the towering conifers surrounding me, but with whom would I have shared the excitement of passing under a 400-foot waterfall while scaling a slippery shale cliff or of breezing through a dense black-raspberry patch and thinking I saw a bear? They were beautiful experiences one had to live to appreciate, nothing a vivid description or snapshot could reproduce. Experiences that are now etched memories in our minds. Shared memories she and I can forever reflect upon as we continue to run together for years to come. It's only by running together that we've been able to go the places we have gone. We help each other dig deep down to find the determination to complete a run that might before have felt too long or even too alone. It's why we were able to log 40 miles in three days' time. Neither of us would have attempted that alone, just as neither of us would attempt many of the runs we complete together. Not once during my runs with Amy do I wish that she weren't there. I've learned to absorb the conversation, oftentimes uncovering intense feelings that provoke stimulating thoughts and ideas. I've learned to not worry about the pace or the destination; rather, I've discovered an entire new level of enjoyment in my running I've never felt before. We've both discovered this and in turn we've become much stronger runners, as well as the best of friends.
I still consider myself a loner, but my runs aren't lonely anymore. There are days whenever I choose or need to run alone, but most of my runs are with Amy and I'm so thankful to have a running friend.
Below is an outlined itinerary of our trip to Portland.
Hotel: 5th Avenue Suites: reasonable rates, good in-room coffee, great room service and downtown location – four blocks from Nike Town.
Day one: Arrival, dinner at the SouthWest Grill at 9th and Salmon, casual stroll through downtown, maybe even a quick run along the harbor (depending upon whether or not you, as we did, get lost on the way from the airport)
Day two: 15-minute drive to NW Thurman entrance of Forest Park. Endless miles
of trails on either single-track dirt or crushed asphalt. We chose to run 1.5
miles along the 11-mile Leif Erickson trail/road before heading up one of many
dirt trails toward the 27-mile long Wildwood trail that runs the park’s
length and is, in my mind, the best continuous trail I’ve ever run. Very
easy to navigate, making it tough for two women to get lost!
Lunch along NW 23rd area (Pappa and Hayden) followed
by shopping, drive through Forest Park neighborhood and a quick trip to Washington
Park and its arboretum then down to Nike Town for more shopping. Walk to harbor
area for dinner at Full Sail brewery.
Day three: In-room breakfast before long run along Eagle Creek Trail located
about 40 miles east of downtown Portland. Our goal had been to run from the
trailhead to Wahtum Lake and back, but we realized at about mile 9 (of what
would have been 13) that we hadn’t packed enough fuel to make it comfortably
home. Considering a good portion of the trail is located along the edge of the
cliff with a good 500-foot drop into the creek below, we didn’t want to
risk fatigue. The trail follows Eagle Creek southward toward Mt. Hood with a
total elevation gain of about 3,000 feet (2,000 over the nine miles we ran).
You can also run it one way if a second drop-off car is available.
Lunch at Multnomah Falls Lodge ten miles west of Eagle
Creek. A recognizable difference between the hikers and runners you see along
Eagle Creek and mobs of tourists at the Falls is somewhat entertaining.
Back to hotel for a quick rest before heading over
to the Pearl District for more shopping and dinner at WildWood restaurant.
Day four: Another glorious run through Forest Park along the Wildwood trail
(where maybe you’ll see, as we did, an elite runner such as Lynn Jennings)
before heading back to town for a quick bite at one of numerous (literally four
at every intersection) coffee shops.
Notes: The Eagle Creek Trail is not for those wanting a fast run. We averaged
about 9.5-minute miles on our 18-mile run, which is two minutes slower than
our typical average. The terrain is rocky on much of the trail and often wet
with 500-foot drops. It is however the most scenic trail I’ve ever traversed,
passing at least 20 waterfalls through the dense Oregon forest.