Price Andersen

I love to run. I started running competitively through cross-country in my junior year of high school. Thanks to good coaches and my model father, who ran the Grand Canyon and a few ultramarathons, I’ve made it out alive and with a lifelong hobby that brings me endless adventure and community.

As residents of the flooring capital of the world, my dad worked as the head salesman for a matting company. And as a salesman, he was always trying to sell me and my brothers into running with him. And as the oldest, most compliant child, I was usually the one wrangled into his adventures. Once, when I was roughly twelve, he invited me on a run that he said would be “so fun and full of new sights”. After his routine sales pitch, I was either convinced or sympathetic for his lack of company, so I decided to go. We covered 6 miles running 3 miles in and 3 miles out on this “fun” trail. I wasn’t digging it. Dad never really explained the layout or length of these trail runs, so I pretty much ran his heels the whole time until I could see the light of the trail opening. At that point, I could smile again knowing the race was almost over. Patience has always been the hardest muscle to train.

The trail we ran was actually only a 3.5 mile loop. He let us turn around when I asked to with half a mile before the finish, putting us at 6 miles instead of 3.5. I didn’t realize this until years later when that same loop became weekly Sunday route. I now run that loop 3 times, getting a solid 11 miles in for that day. Dad knew I was built for distance, the difference is, I don’t complain anymore, I just run.