It has been so long since I have been able to call myself a regular runner that I was able to wait three years before getting new running shoes. My last pair, a valiant set of New Balance 855's, were a Christmas gift three years ago. This year, I retired them after a leisurely Christmas Day run through rural Minnesota.
On that last run with the 855s, I ran down my parents' road, alongside the river and the train tracks that have been torn up to make a walking path. A car approached and slowed as it came abreast of me and I saw my old neighbor -- also my old elementary school band teacher -- lean out the window. "Merry Christmas!" he shouted as he passed.
As I ran up the rise towards Oak Hill Cemetary, a lone dog trotted up from the ditch to see what I was doing. He let me pat him as he passed and we went our separate ways; him out to the country behind me and me into the cemetary. I stopped by my grandparents' graves to say hello briefly and nodded toward all of the tombstones of all of the people I knew there as I jogged back out. Shannon, Thelma, Inga, Joanne, Ollie, Asbury, Derrick...
I ran up past my old driveway, casting my eyes up the hill enough to see that the new owners of my old house have added on. Down the hill towards town, I passed a mailbox that belongs to a former classmate of mine and the condos that stand where my elementary school used to be. I turned the corner at the top of one of the biggest hills in town and took a left by the apartment building that used to be a church. So many things in my town have been replaced or changed or outlived their usefulness. Taking one more turn farther downtown, I stood in front of the only building that ever mattered to me here; the Little Theatre.
The theatre itself has been an auditorium, a gymnasium and a movie theatre in its day, before becoming the community theatre that it is now. It's the only place in town that I ever felt was really permanent and secure, though. I've been in plays there with some people I will never see again in this lifetime, one of whom believed in me more than I ever believed in myself. I took a deep breath and smiled, and then I turned around to run home.
Here's the thing with running... It always means something. I started running to escape feeling inadequate. I kept running because people said I couldn't. Finally, I ran because it's the only time I seem to have in my life where I'm alone with myself and not insane with doubt or worry. The shoes lace up, the door bangs shut behind me and for those miles that stretch out in front of me, I am wholly and totally me. Running is uniquely redemptive. I challenge you to find a runner who says that it isn't.
Everything in my town is changing, dying, becoming something else, but the miles stay the same. The distance is the constant and the will of the runner is its proof. To misquote Mahalia Jackson, I run because my soul is happy. I run because I'm free.
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