Memoirous

Middle distance running was practically invented in Eugene.* In the 1970s Steve Prefontaine came out of nowhere to fly with his bushy mustache and stringy blonde hair up and down the hills in Hendricks Park. For heaven’s sake, it is the home of Nike—and world-class runners. . I see runners who look like retired Olympians in their skimpy shorts and race-track sunglasses out on the groomed “Pre” recreation path. So when I go for a jog, it is a shuffling of baby steps. It’s really ugly. What I’m getting at is that I’m nothing special. Certainly back in Chicago I didn’t get a secnd glance on my way down the street to the lakefront running path. In fact, I’m used to being ignored—it’s how I’ve lived my whole life. Cue: Eugene. To be perfectly honest, I get a run in maybe once or twice a week, so random. Yet, every time I go out, and these are different people, never the same ones, I get comments. And, not just a thumbs up, but actual encouraging remarks from strangers. Oh my God, yo...