Before winning elections, Eugene’s mayor won at Hayward. She still feels its magic.

As Hayward Field prepares to host Olympians and record holders at the Prefontaine Classic this weekend, Eugene Mayor Kaarin Knudson is thinking back to the days when she raced at the storied track.

Knudson learned what makes Hayward Field different while running for the University of Oregon in the 1990s. She said she could feel the crowd rise behind her, as its noise carried her down the final stretch.

“It literally feels like you are being lifted off the ground,” Knudson said, referring to what Hayward’s crowd can do for a runner. “The magic at Hayward Field comes from the fans.”

As a college freshman in the spring of 1995, Knudson made her outdoor track debut in the 800 meters at the old Hayward Field. The day before the meet, Oregon coach Mark Stream pulled her aside during warmups. “He just said very bluntly, ‘I think you should win. I think you should try to win,’” Knudson said.

The next day, Knudson won. After the race, she took her first victory lap — a tradition in which winners circle the track and acknowledge the crowd. Knudson said she felt bashful and unsure how to handle a public celebration so different from the smaller meets she knew from growing up in Alaska.

“I didn’t really understand it at the time,” Knudson said. “The purpose of a victory lap is to really connect with the crowd and thank the fans. It’s not like an encore bow; it’s a chance to really celebrate something together with the UO community.”

Knudson, now 50, ran at Oregon from 1994 to 1999 and earned All-American honors in the outdoor 800 meters and indoor mile. She was also named an Academic All-American twice and the Oregon NCAA Woman of the Year in 1999.

“She was inquisitive, really bright and capable of seeing both sides of a situation,” former Oregon coach Tom Heinonen said. “It’s fun having smart kids on a team because conversations can get pretty interesting, and it’s not always just about sports.”

During Knudson’s collegiate career, the middle-distance runner posted personal bests of 2:04.52 in the 800 meters, 4:20.15 in the 1500 meters and 4:43.88 in the indoor mile. She also recorded a personal best of 54 seconds in the 400 meters as a part of a 4×400-meter relay.

Knudson’s teammates still remember more than the race results. Melody Fairchild, the first U.S. high school girl to break 10 minutes for 2 miles, hosted Knudson on a recruiting visit before she committed to Oregon. Fairchild’s apartment near campus had butcher paper taped across the living room walls, and visitors could leave drawings or notes. Knudson immediately joined in.

“I’ll always remember Kaarin getting really excited about that and drawing us something really beautiful,” Fairchild said. “She’s quite an artist.”

Knudson later designed a cross-country team shirt. She also became known among teammates for making mix-tapes with hand-drawn artwork tucked into cassette cases, Fairchild said, adding that Knudson was a grounding force — someone who was serious about racing and creating joy within the team.

Knudson’s creative side remained evident beyond her undergraduate years. After graduating from Oregon with degrees in journalism and design, Knudson worked in communications and development for a California community foundation for four years. In 2004, she returned to UO to pursue a master’s in architecture with support from a $5,000 postgraduate scholarship tied to her Oregon NCAA Woman of the Year award.

She later worked as an architect for Rowell Brokaw in Eugene, contributing to projects that included the master planning of the downtown Riverfront project and renovations at the Hult Center for the Performing Arts. 

Knudson said she chose to return to Eugene because of her strong connection to the community. 

“I want to be an architect who’s based in a place,” she said. “I want to work in the community that I live in and work on the issues that are in the community. And when I thought about it that way, I knew I wanted to come back to Oregon.”

Marie Davis Markham, another Oregon teammate, also remembered Knudson as a force — dynamic, caring, attentive and funny. The two often met in the middle as runners: Knudson brought more speed, while Markham leaned more toward distance. In workouts and races, they could trade laps, push each other and get better together.

“You knew when Kaarin stood on the line, you were going to get the best out of her on that day, no matter what,” Markham said.

At Hayward, teammates said, the crowd was part of the race. Fans understood the sport, responded to momentum shifts and could change the energy around a runner. Michael Reilly, CEO of TrackTown USA, described Hayward as “a theater for track and field.” It’s a place where athletes are close to the crowd and knowledgeable fans can amplify performances, he said.

For Markham, the old Hayward’s power began with sound: hands pounding against wood, feet stomping in the stands and voices calling athletes by name as they moved down the backstretch. At other tracks, she said, the backstretch could feel empty. But at Hayward, it could feel louder than the homestretch.

The crowd at Hayward “just lifts you more than you could ever imagine,” Markham said.

Knudson said Oregon fans can sense when a race is changing, when a runner is fading and when a move is coming. She said that energy could transform the final stretch. 

Instead of the homestretch being “the longest 100 meters of your life, it felt like everyone else was in quicksand,” Knudson said. “You just got to be flying.”

One lap at Hayward

For Knudson, one particular race stands out. In the spring of 1997, she was anchoring a 4×400-meter relay at Hayward Field against the University of Washington — an unusual assignment for her. Her coach wanted to sharpen her for the NCAA championships in the 800. She took the baton about even with Washington’s anchor. By the 100-meter mark, the other runner had passed her, but Knudson did not chase immediately. She tucked in right behind. 

For the next 200 meters, they flew. Knudson then sensed that the race was going to change. The Washington runner was fast, but Knudson did not think her opponent could hold that pace for the full 400 meters. Around 300 meters, the other runner began to fade. Knudson moved. “I just pulled around to the side of her and started to pass her,” she said.

The fans knew exactly what was happening: Oregon’s middle-distance runner was out-kicking Washington’s sprinter. “The crowd went crazy,” Knudson said.

Years later, Knudson sees the race as more than one lap at Hayward. It was a lesson in not letting the first shift in momentum decide the outcome — a lesson that she said carries beyond racing.

Knudson said the ability to remain calm and focused on what matters the most, even amid setbacks, can help in many areas of life.

“Whenever you encounter a situation that could be discouraging, it’s really important to keep your wits about it and not let that momentary discouragement deter you from your goals,” she said.

Those lessons still matter, Knudson said. The work of a city, she said, depends on people with different roles moving toward shared goals — like a track team with athletes in different events.

Now, when Mayor Knudson walks into Hayward, she sees more than a track. She sees a venue built for track and field, a crowd that understands the sport and a community that still gathers around it. 

“Every time I see Hayward Field filled with people celebrating an athletic event, it fills me with joy,” she said.