Running in Philadelphia
So this is something that I have been thinking about for a long time – running in Philadelphia. As David Brooks opened one of his editorials in the TIMES a few weeks ago, “you wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I go running” every day of the week. It’s been a habit since … oh I don’t know, for years and years, with minor interruptions for injuries and the like, as regular as brushing my teeth. Growing up I knew my town like the back of my hand, and Amherst too (where we spent our summers). Or, so I thought. But through running I discovered (and occasionally re-discovered) those towns that I thought I knew – little side streets and back roads and trails that either peter out into the brush or burst suddenly onto a familiar road.
When I got to Haverford, I had to reckon with a whole new area. I was timid at first – just the nature trail and some roads directly around campus. Then I tored my ACL and did a bunch of other fun stuff to my knee like that, all of which required surgery. So it was not until sophomore year that I was able to lace up my Asics again.
One would think that, in a year on the Main Line, I would get to know it somewhat, knee surgery or not. But the Haverbubble is a powerful thing, and when I was able to run again I realized that I had no idea what lay around – outside of – campus. I had to find out. Mary, whom I live with, has a name for such endeavors. She calls them “run-ventures,” short for “running adventures.” It’s when you go off your usual path and, even if you get lost or have to stop and figure out where you are, you are still technically out on a run. I did not know this word at the time, but that is essentially what I did. I headed out every day, discovered I had a pretty good sense of direction when I put my mind to it, and often returned from my runs having never really gotten lost, even though I had been in areas of the Main Line that I had never even heard of before. When my sense of direction failed me, I would stop passing cars and ask, or occasionally just run till a road sign seemed familiar. By the end of my sophomore year I had developed so many routes of various mileages, roads, and terrains that they lasted me until graduation without boring me.
It was in this way that I truly became familiar with Haverford and the surrounding area – by running through it. I not only had to re-discover the areas I thought I knew – finding little alleys and trails – but I also had to figure out the lay of the land in suburban Philadelphia. It also helped Haverford feel even more like home – when I came back from a run in an unfamiliar area and saw a familiar road name or house or tree my heart would leap a little and I’d realize “I’m almost home!” and then Haverford itself would chug into view and I would be back.
Now that I am living in West Philadelphia, I think that one of the things I miss most about Haverford are these now-familiar running routes. I miss being able to step out of my door an have multiple runs to choose from – ALL of which are safe, aesthetically-pleasing, and just the right length. I miss the freedom of going on a “run-venture” knowing that wherever I ended up I would be safe and would probably be able to run on asphalt (softer than concrete and easier on my poor injured knee).
Now that I’m in Philly, I am often frustrated that all of the running I have to do on concrete leaves me gym-bound for a few days afterwards; or that my “run-ventures” here often land me in places that have no interesting and few safe ways out of. I hate, hate, HATE the pollution and the car exhaust and waiting every few blocks for the light to change and having to dodge bicyclists and cars; and I hate being blocked by walking pedestrians, and I REALLLLLY HATE the constant clouds of cigarette smoke.
But, I am realizing, running here is helping me get to know what is now “my” city – just as running in Sewickley and Amherst and at Haverford helped me re-discover and discover those areas. I suppose discovering good running routes is a process, and just because it’s taking longer this time, doesn’t mean I won’t get there. I just have to work harder. The trails along the Schulykill (sp?) Banks are lovely, but I have to pound my way along 20 blocks of unforgiving concrete through car exhaust to get there. But this is incentive for me to be more creative with my runs to try and circumnavigate these conditions, and it’s helping me get to know Philadelphia better. Now that this is my city, I am slowly stopping lamenting the loss of Haverford and discovering the area. Which, I suppose, is part of what doing Haverford House is all about.
It isn’t always easy – I still LOATHE the cigarette smoke and the concrete. But today, after I was finally free of all that and loping along West River Drive, I looked behind me and saw the skyline through the trees . . . and thought that this is quite a nice life to be living.
