Pavement adventures

I’m a firm subscriber to the mindset that you can’t truly know a place until you run it. Street names just don’t stick when you’re following Google Maps, but when you actually have to read, remember, and then carry out a left on Catherine to a right on Ingalls followed by a forced left on Kingsley, you learn which streets are which (and quickly). On the days when you make a wrong turn down Avon, you might not get to Onondaga as you intended, but at least now you won’t forget where Avon is.

If I were to run the same route every day, I’d be doing myself a disservice. How else would I get the chance to people watch as the 5pm classes let out on Tuesday, scope out the best sledding hills in the Arb on Wednesday, and stop at the playground on Thursday (wait, who said that?) Each run is not just exercise, it’s a mission, a quest, an adventure to somewhere new. Without even realizing it, I started running to make sense of my environment, and now I can’t stop.

Maybe it’s silly that my daily adventures should be in the concrete jungle of a little midwestern city. I wish I could have my trees and lakes and waterfalls every day, not just during breaks and trips up north. Still, aren’t I lucky to have daily adventures at all?