running buddies

In the two years since the long-anticipated yet still abrupt and unprepared-for end to my college soccer career, I have turned to running as a way to stay sane and in shape. It’s been a difficult transition from lifelong soccer player to novice runner, but—after months of ball withdrawal—I have finally discovered the joy of a five- or six-mile jaunt. Along the way, I’ve had the help of many strangers, whose willingness to contribute a consistently entertaining soundtrack to my otherwise repetitious runs makes mustering up motivation a much easier task. Thus, I’d like to thank the following people for their efforts to harass, offend, amuse, and, even, flatter me on a regular basis:

The countless horn-honkers, whistlers, and cat-callers, whose strict adherence to cliché never fails to make me laugh.
The man who, sitting on a park bench as I ran by, remarked to his fellow bench-warmer (just loud enough for me to hear): “She was pretty.”
The teenager who told me we should run together sometime as he scurried next to me, stopping after only a few strides, disheartened by my lack of interest and the cigarette smoke (no doubt) blocking his airway.
The not-so-subtle pot smokers by the waterfront. Thanks for sharing.
The man with the home-baked cookies, who so generously (and creepily) offered me one as fuel for the latter half of my run, and was offended that I seemed more concerned about the horizontal rain and freezing temperatures than partaking of his chocolate chip goodness.
And, finally, the boy who—only hours ago—asked me to be his wife. (I said no.)

So, thank you, Portland. For the company, the compliments, the insults, the food, the marriage proposals. I appreciate the support.