The Art of Run Commuting
arlier this year, the newspaper where I work moved its offices from a building in an industrial area of Edmonton to one in the heart of downtown, ending an era of free parking for the staff. I had happily biked to work all summer, but as soon as the snow fell, I was stuck. I could walk to and from the office – 30 minutes each way – or spend $100 a month on bus tickets. Neither seemed attractive. There was a third option: run-commuting. I live beside a ravine that leads right downtown. There’s a trail that runs parallel to a creek and a bike path that’s well-plowed in the winter. From door to door, the route barely covers three kilometres and has just one traffic light. With the exception of the 202-step staircase that climbs out of the river valley and can only be described as evil, the route is very pleasant. After missing the bus too many times, I decided to give run-commuting a try.
People who dislike packing for trips will have a tough time runcommuting. You must think about clothing for three different temperatures: morning, office and evening. You need a portable lunch that is light and well-packaged. Salads will not do; the dressing will coat the contents of your pack instead of the lettuce.
You ought to include items you might need if circumstances arise – a wool sock to keep your phone warm in the winter, a head lamp if it will be dark during the evening commute, a phone charger in case you forgot the sock and the phone died in the cold. Packing the knapsack always takes more time than it should and there will still be days when you find yourself at work with no underwear.
At the office there are yet more logistical problems, mostly concerning hygiene and social norms. Where to stretch without weirding out colleagues? Where to air out gear so it dries by the end of the day? Should you take the elevator (and subject others to your smell) or take the stairs?
I found some of the answers to these questions on The Run Commuter, an encyclopedic website with cheerful posts like “Pack Hacks: How to Tame Excess Backpack Straps.” I built a sizable work wardrobe under my desk and learned to wrap empty tupperware containers
Ewith a morning clothing layer to prevent bouncing. Run-commuting is a rarefied art.
Despite the frigid Edmonton temperatures, I enjoyed my run-commutes and revelled in the satisfaction of combining transportation with exercise. I loved how effortlessly my mileage increased, how awake I felt in the morning, and how much money I was saving. When the sun shone and the skyline sparkled, I felt I was outsmarting the idiot version of myself who would have waited 10 minutes in the cold for a five-minute bus ride. I started running to track practice from work and 10k days easily became 20k ones. Everything was going well. Then my knee got sore. I quickly cut back on the run-commutes and walked home from practice instead. I took an extra day off. Did some hip exercises. But it was too late. Like a smirking ex-boyfriend, tendonitis returned.
In my drive to exploit all of runcommuting’s benefits, I’d forgotten about my body’s tendency to break down with increased mileage. It didn’t matter that my extra runs were extra slow. Labelling them as “commutes” didn’t lessen their strain on my body.
Run-commuting does work for some people. Take François Marcil, a mechanical engineer in Montreal who started for the same reason I did – to avoid biking in the snow. Six years ago, Marcil didn’t consider himself a runner, but with the goal of running the full 10k to work, he gradually got into it, using a subway stop as a stepping stone.
Marcil also perfected the art of packing and adding ski goggles to his outfit on the coldest days (“I look weird but no one will recognize me,” he jokes). He even recently qualified for Boston. He no longer sticks to a structured training plan because his runcommuting regimen has naturally led him to progressively faster race times.
To give my tendon a chance to heal, I replaced roads with the pool and took to walking instead of run-commuting. It’s tedious, but still an hour I wouldn’t otherwise be spending outside. I still get the beautiful views of the skyline and a punishing stair climb out of the river valley, but when runcommuters f ly by me with their smartly stuffed backpacks and businesslike strides, it bothers me that they’ve mastered the art and I’m still an injury-prone apprentice. Each issue, Edmonton-based writer Madeleine Cummings explores something new in the world of running.