'And I ran, so far away'
-Travel Well Traveled-
We Run The World
Since we're celebrating 25 issues, why not go on a little stylistic fartlek? ExJack is a runner, not born but somewhat breaded (especially these days), but a runner he remains. He's run the cute lil' 5Ks, the heftier 10Ks, some half marathons, a full one and a beastly 52K ultrathon. While far from an expert, he's got some experience is all he's claiming. So how about a little run-down of some of the more interesting places where he's beat cheeks? We'll laugh, we'll cry, we'll have sore calf muscles and urgent BMs, just like a real distance run!
Since this is our after school special issue, it's different from normal. I've divided up a few sections for some memorable runs all over the world, added some extra running specific travel tips, and finished it off with an essay that will speak to the heart of the running cult.
Since this is our after school special issue, it's different from normal. I've divided up a few sections for some memorable runs all over the world, added some extra running specific travel tips, and finished it off with an essay that will speak to the heart of the running cult.
Running On Mars USA
While out roaming about Utah for the first time, we pulled off on one of the countless dusty, picturesque highways that carve through that orange place. While hanging out for a bit, enjoying the desert afternoon, I decided that, by gum, I was going to go for a little cross country jaunt just because I found Utah to be so stunningly beautiful.
I laced up the shoes and took off through the scrub grass and flat plains that terminated at a skyline dominated by craggy, red cliffs. It was about as close to running on Mars as one could get, but without the nice boost of lower gravity. The impossible rock formations straight out of a fantasy novel and garish red-orange of the sands against a pure blue sky must be seen in person. I have always been drawn to the sparse panorama of that strange, otherworldly state, so running there was a little like me putting a stamp down in my memory.
Yep, I've run on Mars.
While out roaming about Utah for the first time, we pulled off on one of the countless dusty, picturesque highways that carve through that orange place. While hanging out for a bit, enjoying the desert afternoon, I decided that, by gum, I was going to go for a little cross country jaunt just because I found Utah to be so stunningly beautiful.
I laced up the shoes and took off through the scrub grass and flat plains that terminated at a skyline dominated by craggy, red cliffs. It was about as close to running on Mars as one could get, but without the nice boost of lower gravity. The impossible rock formations straight out of a fantasy novel and garish red-orange of the sands against a pure blue sky must be seen in person. I have always been drawn to the sparse panorama of that strange, otherworldly state, so running there was a little like me putting a stamp down in my memory.
Yep, I've run on Mars.
Through A Big Seoul South Korea
Besides being a major metropolis, a mecca of cultural coolness, and home to more drunk Karaoke than you can shake a soju bottle at, Seoul is also pretty great for runners.
The immense Han river flows through the entire city, with side tributaries cutting their own paths through the urban sprawl. Next the the length of pretty much the entire river is a running path. If you are a distance runner, then you know the absolute thrill you get when you find a nice, scenic path that is unbroken by traffic intersections. Nirvana.
Besides being a major metropolis, a mecca of cultural coolness, and home to more drunk Karaoke than you can shake a soju bottle at, Seoul is also pretty great for runners.
The immense Han river flows through the entire city, with side tributaries cutting their own paths through the urban sprawl. Next the the length of pretty much the entire river is a running path. If you are a distance runner, then you know the absolute thrill you get when you find a nice, scenic path that is unbroken by traffic intersections. Nirvana.
I would take off on this path, either heading north to Uijeongbu or following the river all the way from Banghak down into the city proper, only stopping when I was totally exhausted. Then I'd grab my subway card and just ride on back home.
If you find yourself in Seoul with a little bit of time, I highly recommend you do the same!
If you find yourself in Seoul with a little bit of time, I highly recommend you do the same!
New Feet in Old Town Latvia
While staying in Latvia, I woke up early several mornings and snuck out of my hostel dorm room to lace up and stretch in the hallway before taking off for an early morning run. Yep, I'm actually one of those people who doesn't clomp around the hostel at 6AM, chatting. That passive aggression is aimed at some of you. You know who you are.
Anyway, Riga's Old Town is a great place for a historic stroll and to take a run before the tourists all get outside. I jogged lightly down the cobbled, rain-soaked streets with the high, narrow buildings rising above me like stuffy old men awoken by my pitter-patter.
While staying in Latvia, I woke up early several mornings and snuck out of my hostel dorm room to lace up and stretch in the hallway before taking off for an early morning run. Yep, I'm actually one of those people who doesn't clomp around the hostel at 6AM, chatting. That passive aggression is aimed at some of you. You know who you are.
Anyway, Riga's Old Town is a great place for a historic stroll and to take a run before the tourists all get outside. I jogged lightly down the cobbled, rain-soaked streets with the high, narrow buildings rising above me like stuffy old men awoken by my pitter-patter.
Arcing out of the streets, I would jog down the river, enjoying the sunrise. On one trip I came across a boat full of young, college-aged people who had apparently been partying all the way till sun-up. Men in suits whose ties had long ago been triaged into the river and ladies often sporting a single stiletto heel, were all stumbling off the boat, swaying and fishing for sunglasses to defeat the sunrise.
All this decadence and newness next to the Old Town, but just how many ancient Latvians had stumbled through those streets centuries ago? The more things change. . .
I smiled and kept on running.
All this decadence and newness next to the Old Town, but just how many ancient Latvians had stumbled through those streets centuries ago? The more things change. . .
I smiled and kept on running.
The Rice Fields Beckon Japan
Most of my time in Japan was living in a small city, Tsuyama, which was surrounded by rice fields and mountains. Whenever I would do my weekly long run, I would take off from my apartment, pass the highway entrance and pachinko parlor, cut behind some houses, across a narrow bridge over a reservoir and then I'd be out amongst the rice fields, as rural as you please.
Most of my time in Japan was living in a small city, Tsuyama, which was surrounded by rice fields and mountains. Whenever I would do my weekly long run, I would take off from my apartment, pass the highway entrance and pachinko parlor, cut behind some houses, across a narrow bridge over a reservoir and then I'd be out amongst the rice fields, as rural as you please.
I would run at a fairly slow pace, taking my time and taking in the sights, with a pack strapped to my back. Every time I went, I would stop at a different place to have a leisurely lunch, change my shirt, and then start muddling back home.
On these little adventures I would discover tiny, nearly hidden temples and curious shops that I couldn't believe survived way out in the boonies. I would come across factories with giant Kanji lettering I couldn't decipher, or abandoned construction equipment left to decay in the middle of a forest, the vines slowly strangling them. During Sakura (cherry blossom time) it was a buffet of photo opportunities.
Then, when I'd arrive back home, I'd collapse to my once-a-week McDonalds and a coveted, rare, Dr. Pepper. What a good day.
On these little adventures I would discover tiny, nearly hidden temples and curious shops that I couldn't believe survived way out in the boonies. I would come across factories with giant Kanji lettering I couldn't decipher, or abandoned construction equipment left to decay in the middle of a forest, the vines slowly strangling them. During Sakura (cherry blossom time) it was a buffet of photo opportunities.
Then, when I'd arrive back home, I'd collapse to my once-a-week McDonalds and a coveted, rare, Dr. Pepper. What a good day.
Glowing and Hungover (Classic) USA
One year, a buddy and I decided to be very enterprising and run The Hangover Classic in Louisville. It is so named because it is a race held in the bitter cold of 7:30AM New Years Day. There was one man in a full tux, though most of us actually had masks on because of the terrible cold. And lots and lots of throwing up. Heaps and loads. Heaps of loads.
One year, a buddy and I decided to be very enterprising and run The Hangover Classic in Louisville. It is so named because it is a race held in the bitter cold of 7:30AM New Years Day. There was one man in a full tux, though most of us actually had masks on because of the terrible cold. And lots and lots of throwing up. Heaps and loads. Heaps of loads.
Another time, I decided to go on a date with someone which involved a road trip to Atlanta and entering an evening glow run throughout the city. It was quite a dreamlike atmosphere when it all got started, with streaking lines of people moving against the still backdrop of the downtown buildings.
Now, if we could only combine these two ideas and have a New Years Eve Glow Run that has beer and wine at every hydration station. . .
Now, if we could only combine these two ideas and have a New Years Eve Glow Run that has beer and wine at every hydration station. . .
During the Glow Foam Run in Texas, we were assaulted with massive foam cannons, spraying out glow-in-the-dark foam over all the runners. At the end of the course there was a DJ, lights, and refreshments set up for a huge rave-style throw down. This was a fun race that I highly recommend!
Relaying With Quiet Ghosts Slovenia
Bled is one of my favorite spots in Europe (Slovenia really seems like a lovely little country overall) and the vacation spot is most famous for the castle and monastery at Lake Bled. Around the lake, though, they've built a long walking path that gives you a surprising variety of sights as you run along it.
I would run loops around the lake at least a few times a day, both for fun and to get photos at different sun positions. One evening, after a lazy, rainy day, the lake was boiling over with mist. The fog grew out of the gentle waters and spread out, seemingly from the isle-bound monastery at the center. It was as if the spirits of some faerie island were gliding out over the surface.
Bled is one of my favorite spots in Europe (Slovenia really seems like a lovely little country overall) and the vacation spot is most famous for the castle and monastery at Lake Bled. Around the lake, though, they've built a long walking path that gives you a surprising variety of sights as you run along it.
I would run loops around the lake at least a few times a day, both for fun and to get photos at different sun positions. One evening, after a lazy, rainy day, the lake was boiling over with mist. The fog grew out of the gentle waters and spread out, seemingly from the isle-bound monastery at the center. It was as if the spirits of some faerie island were gliding out over the surface.
I trotted along both the concrete path, up a few switchback trails that lead to the castle, and over wooden docks. At different times I got a great view of the sunset, the cliff top castle, mountains, and the ghosts spilling over the path.
Travel Tip # 127: Bring your own sunscreen to the island. It is VERY expensive there.
Bali
The Beach is a Welcome Beast Thailand, USA, Bali, Hawaii, Australia
I love running on the beach. It's one of my most favorite things to do. Like right up there with that other stuff that we all like to do. It's the best. There's a feeling of meditative infinity that comes with running along the beach, the sands just keep stretching out before you, the water continually refreshes, changes your path, and yet it all is part of a greater whole.
Many people get out there and run along the beach in shoes, but I've never been down with that. I know why they do it, but I want the tactile feeling of the sand against the bottoms of my feet. The switch between the wet, hard slaps of the freshly baptized sand and the hungry, silky dry sand that tries to eat your legs brings some variety to the whole adventure. Personally, I've found that slightly drying sand, as in it was underwater about half a minute ago, makes the best compromise between too hard and too soft. Once you settle into the rhythm of the water it can be easy to find a path that best fits your style. There's probably a life metaphor in there somewhere.
I love running on the beach. It's one of my most favorite things to do. Like right up there with that other stuff that we all like to do. It's the best. There's a feeling of meditative infinity that comes with running along the beach, the sands just keep stretching out before you, the water continually refreshes, changes your path, and yet it all is part of a greater whole.
Many people get out there and run along the beach in shoes, but I've never been down with that. I know why they do it, but I want the tactile feeling of the sand against the bottoms of my feet. The switch between the wet, hard slaps of the freshly baptized sand and the hungry, silky dry sand that tries to eat your legs brings some variety to the whole adventure. Personally, I've found that slightly drying sand, as in it was underwater about half a minute ago, makes the best compromise between too hard and too soft. Once you settle into the rhythm of the water it can be easy to find a path that best fits your style. There's probably a life metaphor in there somewhere.
Hawaii
In Hawaii, I took off for an island run with a perky New Yorker who was staying in my hostel and we ended up finding a hidden beach. It was down the cliff from the road we were one, but we managed to climb to it. Once there, it was time to kick off the shoes and go running, spraying water as we went.
While staying with a friend in Adelaide, Australia, just getting to the beach was a run in and of itself. Once I'd arrived, rather sunburned, I kept at a pretty slow jog, letting my blistered feet breath a little bit. The beach was wide and the weather was fine, so you Aussies just remember how lucky you are to have this in your backyard!
While staying with a friend in Adelaide, Australia, just getting to the beach was a run in and of itself. Once I'd arrived, rather sunburned, I kept at a pretty slow jog, letting my blistered feet breath a little bit. The beach was wide and the weather was fine, so you Aussies just remember how lucky you are to have this in your backyard!
Australia
In Thailand, I spent some time on Koh Phangan before the Full Moon Party and did some good, healthy running before the giant throw-down (future Issue on that). The beaches were pretty nice, although they tended to disappear during high tide.
Since I am America, I've been to quite a few beaches in the homeland. The wide beaches of Daytona are nice to run, provided you don't find a crumpled beer can half-buried in the sand and half-buried in your heel. Myrtle Beach, during the early morning hours before the crowds descend, was a nice consistency. Coronado Island, off the coast of San Diego, had gold-flecked beaches that were so shiny they were nearly magical. Perhaps my favorite though, was Gulf Shores in Alabama. The sand there was so white it resembled snow. When I was running there, every step was sending up a spray of fine white like I was Scarface in a marathon.
The first time I went to Bali we stayed in a guest house just off Kuta Beach. I think we were there slightly out of tourist season (the second time I lived in Bali Kuta was beyond crowded) because the beach was very open. I remember the reflection of the swollen clouds and the violet sky against the reflection that those pure waters had left along the beach like an endless, curving mirror.
And that last part is very important because running on a beach is a reflective experience. Go give it a try.
Since I am America, I've been to quite a few beaches in the homeland. The wide beaches of Daytona are nice to run, provided you don't find a crumpled beer can half-buried in the sand and half-buried in your heel. Myrtle Beach, during the early morning hours before the crowds descend, was a nice consistency. Coronado Island, off the coast of San Diego, had gold-flecked beaches that were so shiny they were nearly magical. Perhaps my favorite though, was Gulf Shores in Alabama. The sand there was so white it resembled snow. When I was running there, every step was sending up a spray of fine white like I was Scarface in a marathon.
The first time I went to Bali we stayed in a guest house just off Kuta Beach. I think we were there slightly out of tourist season (the second time I lived in Bali Kuta was beyond crowded) because the beach was very open. I remember the reflection of the swollen clouds and the violet sky against the reflection that those pure waters had left along the beach like an endless, curving mirror.
And that last part is very important because running on a beach is a reflective experience. Go give it a try.
Special All-Running Travel Tips
Because I spoil you few, you happy few readers on this St. Crispin's Day, here are some bonus travel tips all having to do with running. I think that's the theme this issue or something.
Travel Tip #77: Before going for that run in a foreign land, double-check: elevation and humidity. Adjust your workout schedule accordingly.
Travel Tip #31:On pedestrian paths, run on the right. On roads, run against traffic. Shocking how many people don't do this.
Travel Tip # 57: You might already look different and running for fun might be a little odd here. Expect some stares, catcalls, maybe a gaggle of kids following.
Travel Tip # 178: It's not a bad idea to invest in a small air-horn to fend off overly aggressive stray dogs while running.
Travel Tip # 140: Check websites ahead of time. Find a local running group, make new friends immediately!
Travel Tip #77: Before going for that run in a foreign land, double-check: elevation and humidity. Adjust your workout schedule accordingly.
Travel Tip #31:On pedestrian paths, run on the right. On roads, run against traffic. Shocking how many people don't do this.
Travel Tip # 57: You might already look different and running for fun might be a little odd here. Expect some stares, catcalls, maybe a gaggle of kids following.
Travel Tip # 178: It's not a bad idea to invest in a small air-horn to fend off overly aggressive stray dogs while running.
Travel Tip # 140: Check websites ahead of time. Find a local running group, make new friends immediately!
Travel Tip #60: Don't just rely on your smartphone, have a physical map on hand at all times!
Running In Korea
Living in Seoul, anywhere close to the river, is a real boon for a runner. My little hamlet of the big omlet that is one of the most massive cities on Earth was known as Banghak (obvious joke in your mind aside). After leaving my apartment, I was one main street and then one small street away from the river path.
This path extended far north about seven or eight miles and far, far south, winding through the city and continuing on to a degree that I never discovered in person because I'm not one of those crazy fit fools who can pound out fifty miles at a time. The river path could be crowded, and it could be a little obnoxious with some bikers refusing to use the seperate, maintained bicycle path (complete with a giant picture of a bicycle in case you're illiterate), but I only had to topple one of them into the river when they refused to move off the running path, so there's that.
Usually, the path and the people would be perfectly pleasant. It was long, winding, with enough varied scenery to do your mind some good. There were mountains and bridges, sparkling waters, fishermen, people practicing the saxophone, groups of women doing mass aerobics, skyscrapers, and always more right around the next bend. There were many places I ran in Korea (and where the majority of my pictures and footage comes from), but the river path will always remain my favorite.
This path extended far north about seven or eight miles and far, far south, winding through the city and continuing on to a degree that I never discovered in person because I'm not one of those crazy fit fools who can pound out fifty miles at a time. The river path could be crowded, and it could be a little obnoxious with some bikers refusing to use the seperate, maintained bicycle path (complete with a giant picture of a bicycle in case you're illiterate), but I only had to topple one of them into the river when they refused to move off the running path, so there's that.
Usually, the path and the people would be perfectly pleasant. It was long, winding, with enough varied scenery to do your mind some good. There were mountains and bridges, sparkling waters, fishermen, people practicing the saxophone, groups of women doing mass aerobics, skyscrapers, and always more right around the next bend. There were many places I ran in Korea (and where the majority of my pictures and footage comes from), but the river path will always remain my favorite.
Running In Japan
I lived in a small city in Japan, up in the mountains, and rather rural (compared to the famous cities you've heard of). Running there was a choice between if you felt like doing it on the city streets or out in the countryside.
I would usually choose the countryside, making a bee line of shortcuts from my apartment and ending up going far over hill and dale. Once, I ended up in an abandoned stone quarry, another time I found this quaint little restaurant located inside a windmill. I ran just before a typhoon castoff blew through and through gently falling cherry blossom petals. I would discover tiny shrines and temples and sit atop water monitoring stations next to dams and eat my lunch.
I rarely ran the same path twice and just trusted in my sense of direction to get my back home. It was a weekly adventure.
I would usually choose the countryside, making a bee line of shortcuts from my apartment and ending up going far over hill and dale. Once, I ended up in an abandoned stone quarry, another time I found this quaint little restaurant located inside a windmill. I ran just before a typhoon castoff blew through and through gently falling cherry blossom petals. I would discover tiny shrines and temples and sit atop water monitoring stations next to dams and eat my lunch.
I rarely ran the same path twice and just trusted in my sense of direction to get my back home. It was a weekly adventure.
Running in the Red, White, & Blue
Since the USA is my home country, there isn't much of a surprise that it is, by far, the most well-tread. There isn't much for me to say, because it is all so familiar, but I will comment that America is a vast, vast country. The landscape varies about as much as you could ever want it to. If you like city running, there are some amazing cities to run in. If you want long fields of hay and rustic barns, we got that easy. You can top mountains of white and grey or mountains of orange and green. There are long-extinct riverbeds and the shores of massive rivers, graffiti-infested tunnels and astronomical observatories to be discovered.
Zombie Run
Everybody likes a zombie run. A couple of friends of TWT, Mitchell and Gordon were taking part in this particular wrinkle on the idea. The course was laid out like a post apocalyptic wasteland, littered with zombies. Some of them would pretend to be part of the scenery, only to spring to life and attack. Other zombies would come sprinting out of the forest, growling and snarling. These were the post-Snyder fast zombies that are all the rage now. The runners all had little balloons attached to them like a Zelda life bar. If the zombies grabbed your balloons, you joined in the apocalypse. Mitchell actually made it all the way to the finish with several of his little red balls intact. It was actually quite the feat!
Glow Run
These themed runs are getting a lot of press these days (the color run being the current cup of collective tea). There is a good reason for their success, though. They're just fun. It's not just running, but also glowing. The run was a fun experience, getting all dressed up in garish costumes and seeing all the runners together, at once, was like watching the Las Vegas strip explode. If there's one in a city near you, I highly recommend it.
Glow Foam Run
Combinging a rave that you would seen in a teen sex comedy with some mild 5K running and glowing lights, this run was a blast. The pumping music that welcomed you back to the finish line (and the giant foam party) was a source of constant encouragement. The foam stained your clothes some, so I was worried about my camera, but I needed my camera to take great photos! What to do? Well, put the camera in a ziplock back, of course, and do my best to hide it away when the foam cannons found me. Great fun.
All Around The World
I honestly do try to not overload your poor tab with so many slideshows. So, I just sort of threw a bunch of different locales all into the same place. Here you'll see: the track around Bled, Lumpini park in Bangkok, Old Town in Riga, Berlin, and Adelaide.
There are probably a few more places I've run, but just have since forgotten. It helps my poor, tired brain to write about them and associate the memories with the photos. This is why creating Travel Well Traveled has been a good exercise for me. If you get some enjoyment out if it, too, then I would say that's how these things are supposed to work. Just like that other thing.
There are probably a few more places I've run, but just have since forgotten. It helps my poor, tired brain to write about them and associate the memories with the photos. This is why creating Travel Well Traveled has been a good exercise for me. If you get some enjoyment out if it, too, then I would say that's how these things are supposed to work. Just like that other thing.
Beaches: Infinite Meditation
Ah, beaches. What else is there to say? Pretty much all of us enjoy the beach. Why not add some running to it? I think I got all the beach-love out of my system in its entry above.
Running Video
Remember, for time lapse photography go here. For 30 Seconds of Zen to mellow out your day, go here. Right down here is a video I threw together for this issue. There's plenty of running, during the day and night. You can see some of the different places where I've enjoyed setting down footprints. If you're a runner (or aspire to be one), just imagine yourself in these same places.
The Cult of Running
I've long held the idea that becoming a runner is like being recruited into a cult. At first, you don't really see what all the fuss is about. Sure, you hear about people doing it, you might even watch some videos. You hear about things like people running five kilometers. For fun. What is that nonsense all about? The reason why human beings domesticated horses, elephants, and ever other four-legged creature that we could was so that we could get away from all this nonsense walking, right?
Then, one of your friends or coworkers starts telling you how they're a runner. They run and run and run. So does their mouth. They tell you how they wake up at 6AM on a Saturday (!) and run five miles up to the observatory or how they take a 1 mile jog four nights a week while their husband washes the dishes. They'll go on and on about a Harrier run where some person pretends to be a fox or something. When they meet a fellow cult member they'll use strange language and mysterious, star-chamber sounding words like 'PR' and 'Fartlek' or even 'BM'. They'll keep insisting, in a nice way, that you really should try it. If you only tried it, you'd discover you'd like it.
So, finally, you give in and start jogging. You know they're slowing down their pace and this makes you feel a mixture of guilt and annoyance. Just getting to one mile without stopping seems insurmountable. You're cramping, you're out of breath, and you swear that when you were a teenager this wouldn't have been a big deal. If you keep at it, though, something happens. You hit that mile mark and break through some kind of nth dimensional wall. Your mind rewires itself and your soul stumbles into a vast, cavernous room that you hadn't realized was hidden behind the bookshelf: you look forward to that mile. Your body feels better, your mind sharper, your senses seem more keen. You're like some very low-level superhero, but you don't want to say that out loud because people will think you're crazy.
But you keep doing it. You go beyond the mile and then you're doing two and three miles, feeling absurdly proud for getting to three miles without stopping and shaking your head, ruefully yet good naturedly, at those men and women on TV who run a marathon in like 10 minutes. Some time passes and you want to put the petal where your mouth is (or something like that) so you enter your first official 5K. Upon arrival, you're surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of like-minded people. They've all felt the same things you've had, had similar physical hurdles and sport the same hard-won blisters like trophies.
After the 5K you start thinking about another one you might do. And then you start reading running websites and browsing through the magazines. You get some real shoes, just for running, and start changing your work out wardrobe accordingly. Now you are taking part in those water cooler conversations and then, you see a person sitting near by. 'Hey, you should really try running,' you tell your coworker and are impervious to the irony that they can see the same, slightly manic, but fervent convert gleam in your eye.
So, running is a cult of good-feeling, i believe. However, unlike the other cults that seem to dominate our landscape, this one seems to be pretty healthy for everything. Except our knees. If you're already a runner (and if you've read through all this I bet you are) then you have been nodding along and discovering the hidden code within this essay that will reveal one of our secret runner meetings. If you're not a runner, then let's start the process and keep this cult moving along.
I've long held the idea that becoming a runner is like being recruited into a cult. At first, you don't really see what all the fuss is about. Sure, you hear about people doing it, you might even watch some videos. You hear about things like people running five kilometers. For fun. What is that nonsense all about? The reason why human beings domesticated horses, elephants, and ever other four-legged creature that we could was so that we could get away from all this nonsense walking, right?
Then, one of your friends or coworkers starts telling you how they're a runner. They run and run and run. So does their mouth. They tell you how they wake up at 6AM on a Saturday (!) and run five miles up to the observatory or how they take a 1 mile jog four nights a week while their husband washes the dishes. They'll go on and on about a Harrier run where some person pretends to be a fox or something. When they meet a fellow cult member they'll use strange language and mysterious, star-chamber sounding words like 'PR' and 'Fartlek' or even 'BM'. They'll keep insisting, in a nice way, that you really should try it. If you only tried it, you'd discover you'd like it.
So, finally, you give in and start jogging. You know they're slowing down their pace and this makes you feel a mixture of guilt and annoyance. Just getting to one mile without stopping seems insurmountable. You're cramping, you're out of breath, and you swear that when you were a teenager this wouldn't have been a big deal. If you keep at it, though, something happens. You hit that mile mark and break through some kind of nth dimensional wall. Your mind rewires itself and your soul stumbles into a vast, cavernous room that you hadn't realized was hidden behind the bookshelf: you look forward to that mile. Your body feels better, your mind sharper, your senses seem more keen. You're like some very low-level superhero, but you don't want to say that out loud because people will think you're crazy.
But you keep doing it. You go beyond the mile and then you're doing two and three miles, feeling absurdly proud for getting to three miles without stopping and shaking your head, ruefully yet good naturedly, at those men and women on TV who run a marathon in like 10 minutes. Some time passes and you want to put the petal where your mouth is (or something like that) so you enter your first official 5K. Upon arrival, you're surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of like-minded people. They've all felt the same things you've had, had similar physical hurdles and sport the same hard-won blisters like trophies.
After the 5K you start thinking about another one you might do. And then you start reading running websites and browsing through the magazines. You get some real shoes, just for running, and start changing your work out wardrobe accordingly. Now you are taking part in those water cooler conversations and then, you see a person sitting near by. 'Hey, you should really try running,' you tell your coworker and are impervious to the irony that they can see the same, slightly manic, but fervent convert gleam in your eye.
So, running is a cult of good-feeling, i believe. However, unlike the other cults that seem to dominate our landscape, this one seems to be pretty healthy for everything. Except our knees. If you're already a runner (and if you've read through all this I bet you are) then you have been nodding along and discovering the hidden code within this essay that will reveal one of our secret runner meetings. If you're not a runner, then let's start the process and keep this cult moving along.
