This must be the place: Ode to lacing up the running shoes, ode to ‘The Streak’
A glorious New Year’s Eve jog.
Garret K. Woodward photo
It finally happened. Exactly 10 years in the making, my daily running streak officially celebrated one decade of continuation on Dec. 31, 2025. End-to-end, that span of time is 3,654 straight days. The mile I’ve run? Countless. I can’t even fathom the total distance jogged throughout that time period, although I have kept a running log since “The Streak” started. Someday I’ll calculate it.
And as I jogged around Waynesville, North Carolina (where I live) nearing sunset, it felt so incredible to just simply let my mind and thoughts drift, reflecting on this day and how much beautiful chaos and utter confusion, dogged persistence and pure passion that “The Streak” has conjured within my heart and soul.
Originally, this journey started as a way to spite my father, also a lifelong runner. He’s currently 83 and runs most days still. He was a very accomplished runner back in the day, truly. And he inspired me to pick up the sport and the lifestyle that is running when I was 12.
Anyhow, long story short, I was an extremely competitive runner all through middle and high school in the North Country. School records and blue ribbons. I even ran D-1 track and cross-country in college. Post-graduation, I put aside the competitive nature of the sport and made it a meditative part of my existence, which it remains.
Cue Dec. 31, 2015. I was visiting one of my best friends in Brooklyn. Without any daily cross-training that I had back in Western North Carolina, I ended up running several days in a row. When I told my father over the phone that I had run seven days in a row, he bragged about how he had a 300-day running streak and “you’ll never beat that, boy.” So, I set out to break his streak, albeit in the name of friendly competition.
Skip ahead to the here and now. Ten years. Thousands and thousands of miles. Jogs all over North America. Over the Golden Gate Bridge and Brooklyn Bridge. Under the CN Tower in Toronto and the white sand beaches of Cancun. Atop mountains in Montana and Tennessee. Coastal runs in Maine, Florida, California and Texas. The memories and miles are endless thus far.
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To that, it’s wild to think I was 30 when “The Streak” kicked off, and here I am, now 40, on New Year’s Eve 2025. I think of all of the people who have come into and out of my life in that span, faces I adore who are now either six feet under or thousands of miles away. I think of the love I’ve been lucky enough to have been given by another, to embrace and hold, if but for a moment, those femme fatales who continue on their own respective journey.
And I think of how much nothing is the same, everything is the same, that old adage that just seems to ring with more truth as the years go along. I think of my internal workings, and how I remain a loyal and jovial soul, one who desires genuine friendship and honest love, all angles and avenues of which are filled to the brim with patience, persistence, passion, and purpose.
For me, running has always been about a sense of peace and serenity. I look at the act of jogging as a way to reconnect not only with myself, but also the world around me. No smart phone on me. No headphones, either. Just clarity of the sounds of the universe, my breathing and my shoes traversing the earth beneath me. No distractions. Just sincere observation and immersion.
Running is also my souvenir when I travel. As a minimalist, I’ve never been a fan of “stuff,” especially when it comes to souvenirs. Now, don’t get me wrong, a cool little trinket from some backcountry antique store is the bee’s knees. But, a crummy t-shirt or hat from some generic tourist destination? Nah. No need to waste money on things you’ll throw out someday.
Those running souvenirs are really the cherry on top of the entirety of “The Streak.” They’re these singular moments in time where my mind is at ease and I’m completely focused on the task at hand, to explore another spot on this gigantic rock hurtling through space. Below are a handful of those moments:
• Golden Gate Bridge (California): Normally, the bridge is packed to the gills with tourists, which makes it hard to run across. But, one morning, the fog was still hovering over the bridge, so I made my move. Jogging across the monumental expanse, I had the whole place to myself. Nobody around. Soon, the fog lifted and I could see all of San Francisco Bay in its glory.
• Wilson Lake (Kansas): It was nearing sunset on a solo cross-country trip. I needed to get a run in before it got dark, so I pulled off a lonely, desolate part of Interstate 70 and tracked down Wilson Lake. Winding single-track dirt trails around the lake. Again, nobody around. A warm, swirling breeze across the Great Plains as the sun fell behind the horizon. Gratitude in abundance.
• Badlands National Park (South Dakota): After an extremely hot July day cruising across the “Mount Rushmore State,” I rolled into the Badlands just as a late afternoon thunderstorm overtook the landscape. With a cold drizzle and the temperature dropping, I put on my waterproof jacket and started trotting down the Old Northeast Road, a joyous run in the sacred solitude of the park.
• Virginia Creeper Trail (Abingdon): Anytime I find myself on Interstate 81, either heading home to the North Country or returning to my humble abode in Western North Carolina, I hit up the Virginia Creeper Trail in Abingdon. This section of the trail starts in the colonial downtown and transitions into rolling farmland, your soul quickly relaxing into the bucolic landscape.
• Point Au Roche State Park (New York): Just five minutes from my parents’ farmhouse, Point Au Roche is my favorite place to run, and has been since I first wandered these trails as a middle school athlete. There’s just something so majestic and captivating about this maze of trails along the shores of the mighty Lake Champlain. I’m never officially “home” until I return here.
Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.
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1 comment
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Good on you! Wonderful read.
Can't help to think, have you been ill the last 10 years?
If so, how did you force the run?
I am committed to more fitness this year, after last year, having a big move at work, I felt I had to buckle down and work more. That didn't mean adventure, or after work runs. Just less frequent.
I've had a few sicknesses that kept me in bed in that timeframe.
Not talking about a common cold.
The bad sickness with fever I had after a trip to Cuba last February (where I ran on the Malecon) comes to mind, or the first Covid I had in 2020 was pretty rough.
I enjoy your writing. Thank you.Tuesday, 01/13/2026
