Running Through Philadelphia
I maintain that one of the best ways to get to know a city is to run around in it. Literally. Lucky for me that Philadelphia is a relatively dense city; even without the oppressive heat, I'd long exhaust myself before I got halfway across sprawling cities like Houston or Phoenix. Not so with Philadelphia, whose downtown is especially easy to criss-cross because of its compact nature.
Two runs I enjoyed this month typify what you might learn from running through Philadelphia. The first was during my usual, early-morning time window, trying desperately to get a few miles in before my daughter wakes up so my wife can sleep in a little. But early for me is late for someone else: a drunk guy teetered toward me as soon as I had gotten onto a main road, only to harmlessly hopscotch his way past me once we neared. It was the morning after Spring Fling, a week-long party on the PENN campus, and if ever a scene symbolized the concept of "after," this was it: trash strewn everywhere, a few groups of college kids straggling home, and that unmistakable stench of day-after alcohol.
The rest of the run was much more sedate: at this hour, hardly anyone is up, so you see the city as if it were deserted. It is a fun time of the day to be out and about downtown, as you see the familiar sites, but with no one else around to muddy up the scenery. So there is a serenity and a simplicity to the views you get. It is as though, like individual people, the city itself is awaking.
Another run I did this month was in the late evening, an unusual time of the day for me to be running. But I was glad for the change of pace, for I did the exact same route as the first run, but the vibe could not be more different. People were out walking, the outdoor seating at restaurants was packed to the gills, and outdoor musicians provided the audio background. It was as though the entire city was dancing, rhythmically and confidently.
I was running at an hour that I am often already asleep, so it was fun to remember that while I might usually be asleep by now, the rest of the city was most assuredly not sleeping. And though I don't often enjoy this pulsating energy, I'm glad I live in a city that has a downtown that does.
Two runs I enjoyed this month typify what you might learn from running through Philadelphia. The first was during my usual, early-morning time window, trying desperately to get a few miles in before my daughter wakes up so my wife can sleep in a little. But early for me is late for someone else: a drunk guy teetered toward me as soon as I had gotten onto a main road, only to harmlessly hopscotch his way past me once we neared. It was the morning after Spring Fling, a week-long party on the PENN campus, and if ever a scene symbolized the concept of "after," this was it: trash strewn everywhere, a few groups of college kids straggling home, and that unmistakable stench of day-after alcohol.
The rest of the run was much more sedate: at this hour, hardly anyone is up, so you see the city as if it were deserted. It is a fun time of the day to be out and about downtown, as you see the familiar sites, but with no one else around to muddy up the scenery. So there is a serenity and a simplicity to the views you get. It is as though, like individual people, the city itself is awaking.
Another run I did this month was in the late evening, an unusual time of the day for me to be running. But I was glad for the change of pace, for I did the exact same route as the first run, but the vibe could not be more different. People were out walking, the outdoor seating at restaurants was packed to the gills, and outdoor musicians provided the audio background. It was as though the entire city was dancing, rhythmically and confidently.
I was running at an hour that I am often already asleep, so it was fun to remember that while I might usually be asleep by now, the rest of the city was most assuredly not sleeping. And though I don't often enjoy this pulsating energy, I'm glad I live in a city that has a downtown that does.
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