Saying Goodbye

Musings from the last runs on my (now former) home trail

The calm after a snowy day. January 2021

I miss the people. Knowing that I recognized them and that they (maybe?) recognized me too. When you run the same stretch of miles every single day, usually at the same time, you’re bound to cross paths with some familiar faces.

The two guys that ran together a few times a week. One’s bald, one’s not. And they often are talking. Sometimes one of them is on a bike. But most of the time, they’re just a couple of guys working out together, chatting.

There’s a woman that I saw here and there, someone that genuinely seems to enjoy her time on the trail. She runs fast, she runs slow. I think she’s a good a good runner. It was always fun to give her a wave on my way by.

The older guy that looked like he was injured at some point. Runs seemed tough for him. A struggle at times. But he was out there. Getting those miles.

There’s a woman that never waved. Never acknowledged. At a certain point I stopped saying hi. Sometimes I would see her on my morning runs. And later that night, she’d be there again.

The guy that looks like a football coach from my high school. During the winter, the dude usually had ear muffs on and was so pumped to see you. Said, “hey!” literally every time, in this big, booming voice. What a pick me up.

Derek, from Strava. I don’t remember the last time I saw him out there. He’s been dealing with an injury. But when I did, my slow runs were often a minute slower than his. He always seemed like he could run for days. A goal to go after. He motivated me and he didn’t even know it.

There’s a family of four, a family of six. The man and woman, where the guy looked like Santa; beard and all. And even a couple that went to my parents’ church when I was growing up. He’d ask me about Nebraska’s chances that weekend. I’d usually say, “I think they lose¹,” with a shrug. He always seemed so disappointed.

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I recently moved. The lead up to it sucked. Riss got sick less three weeks out. It was supposed to be the week we really began packing. The following week, I was knocked on my ass with the same cold. I missed four training runs. I had prided myself on missing few runs since the start of 2020. It was a frustrating week.

And when I finally got healthy? Well, it was time to move. I missed a long weekend run, the first of its kind I’ve missed since I started running again in 2020.

But the saddest part is that I went out for another run on my trail, not even knowing it was my last².

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There weren’t that many regulars when I ran Big Papillion Creek on a daily basis. It started just north of Blondo near 116th Street. I ran it on and off at the start of 2020, usually on the weekend. But when I moved near 120th and Maple in June, it became my daily spot.

There was a couple I’d see often. A woman that rollerbladed. Sometimes, I’d even see a co-worker, walking her dogs. And this older guy, that seemingly never ran with his shirt. Seriously, I remember days wearing a long sleeve shirt myself, feeling cold, and this old dude is just running the other way shirtless, like it’s no big deal.

Other than that, there weren’t many familiar faces.

At the time, it wasn’t something I thought about or even noticed. Having been an on and off runner over the years, I never really developed any sort of a, “hey, nice to see you” rapport with anyone else. It just wasn’t apart of how I ran.

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I moved to Blackstone at the start of 2021. Having lived a mile and a half from an incredible trail previously, I worried that the gains I made in 2020 wouldn’t happen again. Too many lights. Too many streets to cross. Too much city to deal with, I thought.

Before we moved, I think Riss could tell I was getting worried. We had a conversation that ultimately resulted in discussing how things would be different — I would probably have to drive somewhere to run — and to prepare myself mentally.

The time suck of working out can be a lot. I often feel for people that go to the gym. Even a 30-45 session at the gym can be a 90-minute trip in all totality, when you take into account driving there, changing, the workout itself, changing again, going home, and showering.

One of the benefits of Big Papio Creek was the ability to leave the front door of my apartment, cross 120th about a half mile in, and take back roads the rest of the way to the beginning of the trail. If I had a half-hour run, I was probably gone for a total of 40 minutes — enough time to stretch, get my workout in, and a cool-down walk. Not to mention, 2020 was the best time of my life on the trail. I changed how I ran, ran my first sub-4:00:00 marathon³, and went well past 1000 miles total on the trail.

I worried if I could match it. Instead, I essentially lapped it.

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20 miles, from midtown to (almost) Bellevue.

Meanwhile, but a half mile away from my new apartment, was the start of the Field Club Trail⁴. I had lived near this area of town previously, just off the main Farnam strip. And, sure enough, 2014 was a year I got into running a bit⁵, so I was usually on the very same trail I ran the last 15 months.

But back in 2014, it ended just south of I-80. So I could do about five miles max, unless I wanted to do that awkward thing where you go back and forth a bunch to get in a longer run. In the lead up to moving back to the area in 2021, I worried I’d be dealing with something similar.

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The guy with the quiet dog. The woman that ran with hers. The two women that were together a few times a week. The younger couple I saw every couple months.

I’ll think of the bikers too. The guy that never warned anyone he was on their left, even though he’d speed by, seemingly as close as possible. He always had a backpack on. I’m not going to miss him.

I will miss seeing the guy that I ran by a handful of times in the heart of last summer. One Saturday morning, I saw him twice, once on my way out, next on my way back. The second time we passed each other, he asked me, “how far you going?” “18!” I yelled back. He gave me a fist pump.

The next week, we saw each other again. “18 again?” “No, 20!” Another fist bump and another supportive yell followed. When it’s 70+ degrees early in the morning, and you’ll be out there for a few hours, that type of stuff matters.

I’ll miss that.

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I’ll miss knowing the checkpoints. Where I’d end up if I started my run with a slower five minutes. How far in a mile was. That I needed to be at 2.4 miles going under I-480⁶. I’ll miss the shade that kept me covered for miles at a time, especially on those long summer runs. Hell, I’ll miss knowing where the mud shows up after the snow melts. Not like I enjoyed it, but at least I was prepared to deal with it.

Knowing when there were easy downhills or deceptive uphills. I’m going to miss those challenges. A 12-mile run from my apartment saw me gain almost 500 feet of elevation. The same distance on Big Papio Creek throughout 2020? About 200 feet. If I ran 12, I would turn around at about 6.25 miles⁷, and almost immediately I’d begin what was a two-mile incline, the last 1/3 of a mile even steeper. It was brutal. And once I finished the climb, I still had 2.5+ miles to go to get home, most of that on a slight incline itself.

Without those hills in particular, I’m guessing my PR in Minneapolis would have been a bit different for worse.

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I’m a week into my new spot. It’s different. Speaking of elevation change, there’s quite a bit of it at the start of my runs now. But a mile and a half in, it turns flat for miles. The start sucks and in a way feels too challenging, especially given where I like my heart rate for the first five minutes⁸. The middle part has me wondering if it’ll be too easy. When I go out for 20 miles, 14 of those will see very little change in elevation. But then I’ll go up and down hills the last mile or so and I’ll know it’s all worth it.

My second run this week had construction going on a couple miles in. I ended up going back and forth on terrain already ran, m to get to the halfway point, before I could truly turn around and go home. An inauspicious start. I asked myself, “Is this going to happen for a while? What about my long runs on Saturdays?”

The next day’s training plan included speed week that would have me running for over an hour. I’d be running a few miles further than I had on Monday. I was worried. A rare feeling, I dreaded my run. But when I got to the spot, the new sidewalk had set. I let out an audible “hell yes!” I kept going.

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A perfect fall Saturday. October 2021.

My regular runs on the Field Club Trail are done. On my way home from work this week, I drove by the stretch I’d hit on runs that were 45 minutes or longer. Days since running it, I was already nostalgic. I’m going to miss it.

Big Papio Creek was where I discovered a newfound love of running. But the Field Club Trail is where I decided to push myself harder. Where I made gains that I didn’t think were possible, especially in such a short amount of time.

It’s where I decided to be good at running.

This new trail will be a different experience. It won’t be the same, for better and for worse. But I’ll be out there, getting those miles.

1. This definitely happened the day before the Michigan State game. I predicted a loss, and added something like, “I just don’t trust them.” Most Husker watchers consider it the grossest loss of the 2021 season.

2. My last regular run, that is. The Chicago Marathon training plan will include doubles three times a week, a dozen times or so. I’m hoping to head to this trail after work here and there, since it’s close to my office.

3. The 26.2 actually happened on the trail itself. The Twin Cities Marathon never happened, so I ran it virtually with my best friend, who also happened to sign up for the same race. An incredible experience and one I’ll never forget.

4. The Field Club Trail was actually just the start. A few miles in, it connected to the South Omaha Trail, which then connected to Keystone Trail, which the connected to… Big Papio Creek. So I actually got to run that trail again, but only on training runs that went 14 miles or so.

5. In January of 2014, I signed up for the Lincoln Half Marathon with my dad. He ran it, I did not. After a solid start to training, I dealt with knee injuries halfway through and wasn’t able to go forward with it.

6. If I wasn’t, it meant my GPS was off track. Sometimes I’d be at 2.38, other times 2.45. Neither made me happy.

7. Depending on the day, I usually liked to go out .15-.25 of a mile longer than I needed to (think 6.25 miles for a 12 mile run) so I could walk .3-.5 miles after. Nice to cool down a bit and get the HR a bit lower.

8. The training plan I follow has me go out for five minutes in my first HR zone. So I try to keep it sub-123 BPM. Bit tougher right now with the hilly start.