EUGENE, Ore. — Alexi Pappas’s hair bun, wound as tightly as a coach’s stopwatch, slowly unraveled as she quickly completed her workout, tendrils snaking down the nape of her neck as on some Medusa figure.
As Pappas trotted over to the Hayward Field railing, winded and sweat-soaked, to retrieve her spike bag and swig from a Nalgene bottle after completing postrace interval work, minions awaited.
Teenage runners — some in buns of their own, others sporting ponytails — descended to seek selfies or autographs or just get a word and a smile from Pappas, a professional distance runner whose free-spirited persona off the track, perhaps more than her performances on it, has made her something of a cult figure in the insular world of track and field.