Remembering the run of a lifetime

By  Julie Pelchar Cohen — MikeDragoSports.com senior correspondent

Nearly every Sunday starts with a runner’s blessing as three friends and I meet for something that’s always more than a run.

These mornings are filled with adventure and friendship as we weave our way around Berks County – pounding the paths of Blue Marsh and Grings Mill, traversing the Thun Trail and even enjoying a spiritual run through the Oley Valley’s covered bridges and past its countryside churches.

With my buddies away on a beach trip I needed a special run of my own.

So I did something weird: I started my morning wearing a medal around my neck, carefully tucking the silky green ribbon into my green tank top so no one could see it.

That felt super corny.

Half a block into my run, I transferred the medal to my hand and held it for the next six miles.

A year ago today, I ran a race in Eugene, Ore.

The finisher’s medal is beautiful even if it’s not metal, but wood.

The rectangular cut comes from timbers that once held up the grandstands at Eugene’s historic Hayward Field, where Steve Prefontaine and Nike’s Bill Bowerman sparked the running boom decades ago.

Inscribed with “Running 13.1 in the Footsteps of Legends,” the medal has become a totem for me.

Eleven years ago this month I “became a runner,” looking to stay fit and steal time for myself before busy days with three small children would get underway.

Those early morning runs led to local 5Ks and a couple marathons.

When I learned about Eugene’s 26.2 miles a trip to the Pacific Northwest rose to the top spot on my bucket list.

Mental images of finishing a marathon on the track at historic Hayward Field – home of Tracktown USA, as Eugene is called – carried me through the final mile of many long runs over the years.

Completing the Eugene Marathon would honor my fondness for track and field.

After growing up as a competitive golfer and listening intently to my dad’s stories about legends and history in many sports, I became a sports reporter after graduating from college with a journalism degree. My first “big” assignment was covering high school track and field.

It quickly became a love that was all mine. I believe when your heart is stirred all of your senses are as well.

During those long days at invitational meets I relished everything from hearing the thud-thud-thud of a pack of distance runners to feeling the springy keys of my laptop as I tried my best to share the stories of Berks County’s track athletes.

And do I ever love a salty, buttery and slightly greasy soft pretzel at Shippensburg University, which hosts the District 3 and PIAA championships each spring. Just ask my former colleague Jason Guarente.

After telling stories year after year and running thousands of miles of my own, I finally made it to Eugene last spring.

But I didn’t run the marathon on May 1.

After completing every workout from January through the end of April to prepare for 26.2 miles, I made a difficult last-minute decision to run half the distance due to a medical issue that required a significant surgery 12 days after the race.

While the dream didn’t end up as I had envisioned, I didn’t leave Oregon with an ounce of disappointment.

There was the exquisite farm-to-table dinner in Portland. The sand dollar on the Pacific Ocean beach. The tune-up jog on Pre’s Trail that memorializes Prefontaine and provides an up-close view of the green “O” stamped on the Oregon Ducks Autzen Stadium.

Then there was my gratitude for the support I received along the way.

For my buddies who planned creative routes to keep the long runs interesting and also kept me sane when the grind of marathon training nearly broke me.

For my mother who stayed with the kids and dog while we were away.

For my husband who flew us there, sacrificed several days of work at his busy office and even got emotional while watching me plod excitedly along the streets of Eugene on our wedding anniversary.

I covered 13.1 miles that day – 13.1 less than I had dreamed about. Taking half the steps I had planned made the trek no less significant.

The trip left me with nothing but fond recollections, just as I had hoped for honoring the sport that has helped define our family, which includes two high school distance runners. 

I guess you could say the beach weekend was a blessing.

I needed this morning to honor last year’s journey and its deep roots.