In 1976 I spent what my mother termed a “young fortune” (i.e., $17.00) on a pair of Nike running shoes, and thus was born a 40-year, on-again-off-again, “It’s complicated” relationship between me and this activity. I gave it up numerous times, but always went back until about five years ago when my left foot and right knee finally, once and for all, hollered ‘nuff. And I’m ok.

When I started running, it was a blessing for my whole family. I ran up and down the roads and around the pastures of the farm, dispelling the vast well of teenaged existential nonsense that regularly built up in my brain (my poor mother resorted to giving me two fingers of beer at dinner time, and I think she was relieved to see that running helped to quiet my mind in a more strictly legal manner).

In my twenties, living in Anchorage, I began running 5K’s in town. There was an active running club, so there were many races to choose from. The one 10K I ever participated in was out by Earthquake Park in western midtown, very near to my apartment. When I was signing up, the woman at the desk noted my last name, and I learned that she had once, while living in Washington D.C., dated my cousin Steve. It was a beautiful Alaska day with Denali making a rare appearance across Cook Inlet, and I finished that race in almost exactly one hour. Step aside, Atalanta.

After moving to Southeast Alaska, I kept up my running. Teaching school and raising two children proved stressful at times, and nothing seemed to clean out the psychic pipes better than running. If I tried to take a walk instead (to rest my joints or whatever) I would be madder than ever by the time I got home.

Of course, back in the day on Prince of Wales Island, there was a much smaller presence of runners. There was that time in Craig when I got a blue ribbon for coming in dead last, because I was the only woman in my age group who entered. When I went to logging camps and other small villages to teach, people would see me running and stop their big old trucks to ask me one of the following: “Do you need a ride?” “Are you ok?” and “What, exactly, is wrong with you?” My favorite bit of heckling happened in Thorne Bay, when someone leaned out of a passing truck and yelled, “Adri-annnnn!”

In the late nineties, the Prince of Wales Island International Marathon was born, and for many years I participated as an organizer and member of relay teams, consisting mostly of my family and whoever else was looking to join a team. As time went by, it became more and more stressful to organize a team and figure out who should be at what relay station at what time. I had fun, but it’s over.

As is running in general. As I said, about five years ago, I had a few stress injuries that just wouldn’t go away for any length of time. Now I do yardwork, housework, and small construction projects; I go for walks with friends and family, and I wear the right shoes. Running brought me emotional and physical health, expanded my social world, and helped me build my confidence in many areas of my life, and while I do not miss it, I will always appreciate the experiences it brought me.

For your further edification:

Rocky – Adrian! (HD) – Bing video

Atalanta – Wikipedia