Run All The States!

Eugene, Oregon. TrackTown, USA. Hayward Field. Steve Prefontaine. Bill Bowerman. So much running history packed into one college town, and I was ready to be a part of it. Not even some less-than-iconic films on the subject — ahem, Jared Leto in Prefontaine — could deter me. I was going to run through the Emerald City, finish on the legendary Hayward Field track, and pretend for a fleeting moment that I, too, was a running legend.

I was flying solo for this trip, but I had a full itinerary: a 5K, a half marathon, sightseeing, breweries, and copious amounts of food. In other words, all the usual race weekend essentials.

My flight landed late Friday night, and in a delightful blast from the past, I summoned a taxi. Yep, a real-deal yellow cab, because Eugene apparently functions on pre-rideshare technology. I rolled up to the Campus Inn, where the concierge squinted at her screen and, after some frantic typing, announced she couldn’t find my reservation. “Not a problem!” I thought, feeling quite self-assured. I whipped out my phone, pulled up the confirmation email, and triumphantly read the hotel name: Downtown Inn.

…Welp.

That’s what I get for remembering just half a hotel’s name. I grabbed another cab, checked into the correct place, and finally got some sleep.

TrackTown 5k

The next morning was a brisk 40 degrees, but the sun was shining. After a light warm-up jog, I picked up my bib outside Hayward Field and wandered through the gates into the legendary stadium. The grandstands, the pristine green grass, the fiery red track with crisp white lane numbers — I soaked it all in.

And then I heard a loud clank.

I turned just in time to see a volunteer locking the gates behind me. Whoops. Guess I wasn’t supposed to be in there while they were setting up. At least I got some photos before my unintentional trespassing ended.

Soon enough, I was in my corral on 15th Ave, ready to roll. We took off through campus, into a neighborhood, and past a park, all under peaceful, quiet morning skies. A grumbly runner nearby muttered, “I thought this course was supposed to be fast and flat!” And, yeah, they had a point — my legs had definitely noticed a couple sneaky inclines.

At one particular incline, a spectator called out my number and cheered, “Fresh as a daisy! Fresh as a daisy!” which felt generous considering I was very much sweaty and not-so-fresh. But hey, I’ll take it.

And then, the moment we’d all been waiting for — we hit Hayward Field! It was a blink-and-you-miss-it 0.1 mile stretch of track, but still, what a thrill to run where so many legends had raced before.

After I crossed the finish line, my next mission was clear: get a picture with the pancake mascots. Yes, you read that right. Krusteaz had sent out their breakfast-themed speed demons, Flap Jack and Flap Jill, to challenge runners. If you could beat your gender’s pancake, you won unlimited pancakes. Since I had zero chance of outrunning these speedy cakes, I settled for a photo op. Unfortunately, race officials ushered us out of the finishing area quickly. I turned back, locked eyes with an event staffer, and (probably looking a little desperate) said, “But… but I just want a picture with the pancakes.”

She sized me up, decided I was harmless, and smiled. “Just go.”

Mission accomplished:

Exploring Eugene

After the race, I set out to visit Pre’s Rock, the roadside memorial to Steve Prefontaine. Memorials are always a weird mix of history and reverence, but this one felt especially surreal. Nestled in a quiet residential area, it was surrounded by trees, a winding road, and… lots of speeding cars. Seriously, this was not a pedestrian-friendly location.

I joined a few other runners at the site, taking in the collection of race bibs, track spikes, medals, and — oddly enough — flip-flops left in tribute.

I paid my respects, narrowly avoided getting hit by a car on the way out, and spent the rest of the day eating and drinking my way through Eugene.

Highlights included:

✔ Brunch at a hippie café
✔ A nap (much needed)
✔ A beer flight at Falling Sky Brewing
✔ Post-race tacos (mandatory)
✔ Voodoo Doughnut, where my dairy allergy limited me to one sad little vegan cinnamon sugar donut… but I made the most of it.

Confetti and High-Fives: The Half Marathon

Half marathon morning was just as beautiful as the 5K. Sunny skies and cool temperatures awaited us. My shuttle pickup was right down the street from my hotel. Easy! …except after waiting quietly for 15 minutes with several other runners, someone double-checked with the front desk.

We were at the wrong side of the hotel.

I mean, of course we were. At this point, messing up hotel locations was just my thing for the weekend.

Once we got to the start, again near Hayward Field, the race unfolded beautifully. We cruised south of downtown through tree-lined neighborhoods and then toward Amazon Park. Through a line of trees I could see runners heading in the opposite direction, so I eagerly awaited the turnaround. After a little hill around mile 4, we were wrapping around the park and headed north on the opposite side of Amazon Drive. Everything was Amazonian here… East Amazon Drive, West Amazon Drive, Amazon Trail, Amazon Creek, etc. — all that was missing was a Prime logo and cardboard box for my cats.

With a confetti cannon, this enthusiastic legend showered us in colorful paper bits like we were game show winners.

Just before mile 8, we finally turned off the parkway. Here we hit another hill, the most noteworthy incline we’d encountered thus far on the course. A colorful balloon arch marked the top, as did a sign denoting this as “High Five Hill.” Volunteers lined up to dish out high-fives, and I collected as many as possible.

The course flirted with us, taking us past Hayward Field — just a little tease, since that’s where we’d eventually finish — before leading us over the picturesque Willamette River. At mile 10, we said a friendly “good luck” (read: thank goodness that’s not us) to the marathoners and veered off for a few scenic miles through yet another lovely park.

Then came the home stretch. We charged down the now-familiar path toward Hayward Field for a cinematic moment through the gates. I hit the track, found whatever scraps of speed I had left, and boom — crossed the finish line in triumph, collecting my shiny medal.

Sadly, there were no pancake mascots waiting to high-five me this time, but I still beamed with joy. Because hey, legendary finish line, killer race vibes, and zero risk of being outrun by breakfast foods? I’ll take it.

I like these official photos from the weekend because they make me look slightly faster than a snail:

I grabbed one of the pre-made snack bags (because post-race hunger is not to be messed with) and basked in that sweet race afterglow for a bit. Then it was time for the holy trifecta of recovery: brunch, shower, nap. Once those were complete and I felt fully recharged and ready to celebrate, I set off in search of good food and even better beer.

First stop: Elk Horn Brewery. I plopped myself into a ridiculously comfy seat in front of a big ol’ TV, ordered a beer flight, and went to town on a soft pretzel roughly the size of my face while watching NHL playoff action. Peak happiness achieved.

After the game, I checked off my obligatory post-race taco requirement at a nearby cantina, then took advantage of the perfect weather with a leisurely stroll to Ninkasi Brewery. Solid beer? Check. Bonus points for having adorable dogs on site? Double check. One of them, a very distinguished Great Dane, was basically the mayor of the place, and I fully respected his authority.

I swapped race stories with some fellow runners, sipped my way through another flight, and soaked up the last bit of my TrackTown weekend. My name might not be going up on the Hayward Field record board, but for one glorious weekend, I got to run in the footsteps of legends. And that’s pretty damn cool.

Final Thoughts:

• Most startling: The Eugene Airport baggage claim alarm. It sounds like a nuclear meltdown.
• Most disappointing: Not nearly enough Prefontaine-inspired ‘staches
• Best sign: “Pain is just a French word for bread”
• Best chant: The two lil kids chanting “You can do it! Yes you can!” over and over during the half marathon
• Moment of envy: There was a trail running parallel to the route in the early miles of the half. It was just out of reasonable reach, so I looked longingly at that nice, cushy wood chip surface and apologized to my joints as they bounced on the concrete.
• Most remarkable: Despite the slightly unwieldy costumes, Flap Jack ran an 18-minute 5K, and Jill a 23-minute one. That is unreasonably fast for a breakfast item.