Feb. 9, 2005

Depending on which broadcaster you ask, travel can be either the bane or the beauty of the job. Without question, I fall into the latter.

For all the hassles it can present, I love getting the chance to visit opposing schools. Perhaps the wanderlust comes from my Dad, who always bought me a baseball cap from the city or college he visited on business. Wherever our tires touch down, I’ll never pass up the chance to explore a new place.

With the Gamecocks’ travel schedule, I usually have an hour or two in the mornings to go out and satisfy my inner Magellan. My method of exploration, though, is more Carl Lewis than Meriweather Lewis. I began running in high school, and I haven’t really stopped since. On the road, my six-milers double as sightseeing tours, a chance to soak up the sweat – and scenery – of an opposing school.

In my year-and-half with the Gamecocks, the miles and memories have racked up. My runs have bordered both the Atlantic Ocean (Myrtle Beach, Dec. ’03) and the Pacific Ocean (Seattle, Nov. ’04). I’ve circled the Metrodome in 15-degree weather (Minnesota, Jan. ’04), and circled the Daytona Motor Speedway in 80-degree weather (Stetson, Dec. ’03). I learned that there’s nothing more effective in jumpstarting a sluggish run than a “Warning: Alligators” sign (Gainesville, Jan. ’04).

At times, my runs have resembled the Gamecocks’ season. I, too, have experienced my ups (Albuquerque, elevation 5,200 feet, Dec. ’03) and downs (Seattle, sea level, Nov. ’04).

Except when the hotel stands amidst a vast strip mall (Murfreesboro, Dec. ’04), I’ve tried with military diligence to seek out the most scenic landmarks. Last month, that pursuit led me past such postcard-perfect shots as the Denny Chimes (Tuscaloosa), Thomas Jefferson’s Rotunda (Charlottesville), and the Harry R. Rosen Alternative Pest Control Center (Fayetteville). Okay, just joking on the last one.

There’s something pristine about running around a sleepy campus on a Sunday morning. It’s in these moments, three hours before game time, where my head feels most clear. Then again, it may be the extra oxygen.

I may not remember the details of every game, but I can probably recount all the sights and sounds of my runs. They have become my snapshots, my personal archives of a season and a career.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to board a bus for Athens. I hear they have some lovely scenery.