More than two years ago 12 of us went to Oregon for Hood to Coast, a 197-mile relay from 6,000 feet up Mt. Hood to Seaside, Ore., on the Pacific coast. For 30 hours we did everything together except run. When we weren't passing the baton, we were packed seven to a van - six runners and a driver. We ate there, and slept, and changed clothes. We argued and joked with each other; heaped on praise and encouragement, offered advice and tossed and caught insults. We were always in close proximity to somebody else's sweaty socks.
We learned about each other, and we became friends.
The relay was memorable, but here's the best part: we're still friends today. Tonight we gathered for reunion of sorts. This time the conditions were far better, but the interplay was much the same. Praise for recent PRs, encouragement and perhaps advice for upcoming races, family news, jokes, insults. Not much mention of Hood to Coast, actually. And thankfully, no sweaty socks.
A community of friends formed around 30 hours in Oregon.
Races are great, but they have finish lines. Friends don't.
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