My favorite running routes feel like old friends. I get excited about seeing them, I know what to expect from them, and we have a shared history.

My oldest and most comfortable friend is the route that I run when I step out my front door. This route brings me past friends’ houses, through parks, by my children’s old elementary school, up and down small streets and main streets, and right through downtown. As I run this route, I smile at friends on their porches and people in the parks; I notice a house being painted, a “For Sale” sign on a lawn, a riot of black-eyed Susans in a front yard; I even get to see what shows are playing at our local theater.

While I often run this route alone, I have run it with others, including friends who live nearby and friends who have moved far away. I smile when I think of these shared runs.

There is one memory from this route that does not initially make me smile: Several years ago I was halfway through this run when I caught my foot on some uneven sidewalk and went crashing to the ground. I gouged my elbow so badly that I had to take myself to the ER where a doctor packed the hole with fake skin. I wince remembering the blood and the pain, but even this memory brings some comfort for as soon as my skin was packed up, I drove upstate to meet my friend Sybil for lunch.

There are running routes along the river where I have done many speed workouts. Speedwork makes me happy; I love pushing myself and the sense of accomplishment I feel when I reach my goal. When I head out to run any of these routes, even when I am not doing speedwork, I am reminded that I can run fast. These thoughts buoy my spirits on hot and humid days — or days when my legs otherwise are not cooperating — and I find myself wondering if I will ever again run at more than a crawl.

One of my favorite running routes is an eight-mile out-and-back on a long and hilly road by a beautiful reservoir. Running this route makes me feel strong. I remember being intimidated by the hills the first time I ran it, but now the hills feel like they are there simply to let me revel in how strong I am. I struggled to recover from COVID earlier this summer and was excited when I was finally able to run this route again, even if I did have to walk some of the hills.

Then there are the bike trails on both sides of the Hudson River where I have done so many long marathon training runs. Running on any one of these routes floods me with memories of feeling excited, tired, and bored (three hours in my head is a long time), but most of all it reminds me of feeling that I can do anything I set my mind to do.

We are heading to Rhode Island soon, and I am looking forward to revisiting the routes I have found while vacationing there in the past. In my mind’s eye, I am already running past the pretty corner house with the aqua door and shutters, the farm with bales of hay reminiscent of a Monet painting, and the Asylum Road street sign that always makes me smile, both for what the name conjures about the running life and because it means that I am just a mile from our rented cottage on the ocean.

Even on my solo runs I never feel alone. Running routes that feel like friends keep me company and make me welcome the miles.

My favorite running routes feel like old friends. I get excited about seeing them, I know what to expect from them, and we have a shared history.

My oldest and most comfortable friend is the route that I run when I step out my front door. This route brings me past friends’ houses, through parks, by my children’s old elementary school, up and down small streets and main streets, and right through downtown. As I run this route, I smile at friends on their porches and people in the parks; I notice a house being painted, a “For Sale” sign on a lawn, a riot of black-eyed Susans in a front yard; I even get to see what shows are playing at our local theater.

While I often run this route alone, I have run it with others, including friends who live nearby and friends who have moved far away. I smile when I think of these shared runs.

There is one memory from this route that does not initially make me smile: Several years ago I was halfway through this run when I caught my foot on some uneven sidewalk and went crashing to the ground. I gouged my elbow so badly that I had to take myself to the ER where a doctor packed the hole with fake skin. I wince remembering the blood and the pain, but even this memory brings some comfort for as soon as my skin was packed up, I drove upstate to meet my friend Sybil for lunch.

There are running routes along the river where I have done many speed workouts. Speedwork makes me happy; I love pushing myself and the sense of accomplishment I feel when I reach my goal. When I head out to run any of these routes, even when I am not doing speedwork, I am reminded that I can run fast. These thoughts buoy my spirits on hot and humid days — or days when my legs otherwise are not cooperating — and I find myself wondering if I will ever again run at more than a crawl.

One of my favorite running routes is an eight-mile out-and-back on a long and hilly road by a beautiful reservoir. Running this route makes me feel strong. I remember being intimidated by the hills the first time I ran it, but now the hills feel like they are there simply to let me revel in how strong I am. I struggled to recover from COVID earlier this summer and was excited when I was finally able to run this route again, even if I did have to walk some of the hills.

Then there are the bike trails on both sides of the Hudson River where I have done so many long marathon training runs. Running on any one of these routes floods me with memories of feeling excited, tired, and bored (three hours in my head is a long time), but most of all it reminds me of feeling that I can do anything I set my mind to do.

We are heading to Rhode Island soon, and I am looking forward to revisiting the routes I have found while vacationing there in the past. In my mind’s eye, I am already running past the pretty corner house with the aqua door and shutters, the farm with bales of hay reminiscent of a Monet painting, and the Asylum Road street sign that always makes me smile, both for what the name conjures about the running life and because it means that I am just a mile from our rented cottage on the ocean.

Even on my solo runs I never feel alone. Running routes that feel like friends keep me company and make me welcome the miles.