Mi Primo Correndare a Roma!

This week the evening wind shifted ever so slightly to include a wisp of fall in the air, just enough to tease the soul. Perhaps this is just wishful thinking, but the break in the heat was a welcome friend, imaginary or not. This type of weather is good for all sorts of things, my favorite being sleeping, but as, literally, a close runner up, going out for a job in the evening breeze seemed to be an appropriate thing to do. Up until now, I had been unmotivated, too tired and uncomfortably hot to think about going for a run. I also have seldom seen anyone out running around the city. Although the younger Italians seem quite svelte, I don't get the impression that they are a culture of physical activity. They are lucky they have such a genetic code. My American genetic code said that I was eating too much pasta and gelato and if I didn't want to expand my code further, I had better get out there and get my heart rate up.

Finding a place to run is trickier than I thought. First, I like to be amongst "my own kind" when I run. I much prefer to at least see other runners if I am out there sucking the air and turning three shades of red. Misery loves company perhaps. Second, the area isn't well suited for these types of expeditions. The cobblestones are a constant threat to the ankles and sidewalks are nonexistent on many of the tiny streets. The hordes of tourists will stop most unexpectedly to look at a map or a site. They seem to have the uncanny ability to wander not in a straight line, but in a zig-ing and zag-ing path that is undoubtedly always in your way. They also don’t travel in orderly groups, but in clumps, preferably three or four abreast to ensure that the sidewalk is completely blocked. The vehicle traffic… I will not even begin to describe the nightmare that is Roman traffic. Let me just generalize and say that the traffic laws here are always "optional" and are loosely, very loosely, interpreted by the locals.

Despite all of these setbacks, I scoped out a route while Josh and I were on a walk the night before that I thought might be acceptable for a run. I left our house and skirted around the Coliseum, where the sidewalks are fairly wide and steady, to get to the Circus Maximus. The Circus Maximus is just like it sounds, a big circle. It was the site of ancient chariot races (think "Ben Hur"). Now it is big open field with a few lanes of circular track, perfect for a run! For the spiritual running types, it was fun to think of the essence of the place as I made my way around the track. Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, Romans were racing chariots around this track! I am going to ask Josh to upload "Chariots of Fire" on my iPod to really get the full effect on my next trip there. I think it will supplement current my Neil Diamond and Kanye West mix nicely (hey, whatever motivates you).

Even more exciting to me than the historical significance was the presence of a familiar species of man, “the runner”. There weren't a ton of them, maybe only ten or so, but the site of fellow runners was very comforting to me as we all trotted our way around the dusty circle. They weren't American tourist runners either, I am sure they were part of the small group of bona fide Roman runners. The dark socks and spandex give them away every time. A guaranteed way to tell if a man is not American is by seeing him in any type of spandex apparel. I was running with real European runners! How exciting, and very euro chic I think.

All in all, a very good run. About a 30 minute trip door to door, so I will have to make another loop or two around the circle or expand my route to add in some mileage, or kilos as we Europeans say!

As for an official running status report for my likeminded pedi-friends (Christine, Jamie and Pa), I felt pretty good. It mostly was just nice to get out there again, a little soreness the next day in the ankles, a memento from the sidewalks, but nothing that would put me on the bench. I'll need to add in some distance, and there are plenty of hills to train on as well. Although, Pa, none of them are nearly like the Peter's township mountain!

Charlie was pretty tired afterwards...