Monday, February 1, 2016

Why Not Both?

Right before I left for London, after my trench coat had been folded and tucked into my brand new suitcase (which required sitting on in order to achieve maximum compactness) and the last last-minute pairs of socks and underwear were scrunched into every available pocket, my mother asked me "what's most important to you right now?"

I looked at her and blinked.

"Uh, I just want to get to London and get settled and focus on making the most of my time there." Generic. Obvious. A bit nondescript, but an an overarching goal for my forthcoming experience with lots of possibility in its lack of specificity. 

And then I thought about my never been worn Mizuno sneakers comprising a small portion of the bulk in my unwieldy luggage. Not yet stained by street sludge or matted with mud, their imaginary odometer read 0. Their first miles would be collected on cobblestone sidewalks and paved city streets of London. Because, admittedly, running is important to me. 

Go ahead, groan. Please. We'll do it together:

Ugh. 

Yes, there are more important things than weekly mileages, long runs on Sunday, and finding the most immediate source of protein to inhale post workout. There is thought that exists outside how to prevent recurring knee pain or which brand of shoe has the most durable shoelace or whatever. There is a city to explore, late nights to get lost in, underground transportation to navigate. 

But, I ask you, why not both? There are a million ways to experience a city, and thus far I've looked down upon Londinium from the Monument commemorating the Fire of London in 1666. I've braved the Night Bus as it cradled me and my fellow passengers away from the hazy post apocalyptic scene that is the routine aftermath of the Saturday night/Sunday morning night club diaspora of Picadilly Circus. I've seen questionable experimental theatrical performances in the West End and, as a truly committed reader already knows, recently announced my engagement to a particularly heavenly plate of curry. Also I've consumed an amount of tea equivalent to that dumped into Boston Harbor by those ungrateful American colonists. If only they knew what they were missing by wasting it all instead of enjoying it with a dash of sugar and a tablespoon of milk. Is national sovereignty really more preferable than the simple comfort of Earl Grey on a blustery winter afternoon? But, I digress. Why not both? 

I've also experienced miles of the city in my Mizunos. They are two separate canvases, carelessly decorated with river spray and post-rain mud and general street junk. They are filled with miles of London street. And, as far as the big debate on shoe-lace durability, they definitely pass the test. 

It is really effing cool to run past Big Ben and across the Millennium Bridge and down around Parliament and all along the Thames. Past thousands of people and languages and families. Navigating the streets in this way helps me to place myself in a new location, and it also helps me to feel like an extension of the place I'm in. A Londoner. Or more, a part of the landscape and all of its landmarks and history.

I met up with the London City Runners in Southwark on Sunday for a brisk 11 km. It's a free running club that meets at a brewery three times a week to run and, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, celebrate what is perhaps the greatest joy of vigorous physical activity- guiltless consumption of sausage rolls and pints of beer. We ran 5.5 km one way, and 5.5 km back along the Thames with clear, glittering views of the Gherkin and it's other post-modern pals in the financial district in right over our shoulders. The morning began gray and drizzly, but warmed up a bit as the run went on, and clouds that once threatened a downpour assumed their regular protective role of blanketing the horizon in a feathery blur. Beautiful. Invigorating. 

It was a little bit my Wordsworth "Composed Upon Westminster Bridge" moment. 

After I did get to talk about weekly mileages and training plans and how to dress for inclement weather with people from all around the city. Running is arguably the only way you can bond with others over unmentionable foot problems and the benefits of sweat wicking fabrics, among other things.

And now I've got footprints all over this place.

An incredible view (from the aforementioned Monument) of the City of London/Londinium/The Square Mile for the low price of only 311 steps!
The Walkie Talkie, Gherkin (the universal name for pickle), and Cheese Grater, named in the order of what they look like. London's wealthiest gang of architectural feats. These guys love to flaunt their wallets. 
The Shard through a classical alleyway. Beautiful, but built with absolutely no intended purposes and is currently owned by a rich Saudi Arabian guy.
A tranquil meeting place. Perfect for a smoke break or a covert extra-marital affair. 




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