Exotic Destination

Istanbul

It’s the peak of summer and I’ve made the choice to attend a semester abroad at Bog˘aziçi University in Istanbul. I also have a running ambition: the Istanbul Marathon in November. This is the only cross-continental marathon in the world, beginning in Asia and crossing the Bosphorus Bridge into Europe. The course features world-class athletes, stunning vistas and unsurprisingly a tour of historic sites. But before the race begins, I need to continue a similar training regimen I ran back home in Edmonton. I’ve toured here before, but nothing can prepare you for a 36 C day in Istanbul. I begin my day in Rumelihisarı, a quieter neighbourhood in the city’s much larger Sarıyer district, and as I stretch and prepare to run, sweat trickles down my brow like thick paste.

Istanbul is a city so large that no census body can honestly determine its population. The common belief is that the number lies somewhere around 14 to 15 million people. To put that in perspective, the geographical footprint of the city is only twice the size of Edmonton, but at least 15 times more dense. It’s the largest city in Europe by a wide-margin, and finding your way back home can be harder than navigating your way in backcountry blizzard-like conditions, thanks to urban planning, street patterns based on big hills, rapid urbanization and population growth – if they’re based on anything at all.

My house is in the middle of a hill that towers close to 2 40 m above the Bosphorus Strait and sits right beside the Fatih Sultan Mehmet Bridge. This bridge and two others like it are all that separates Europe from Asia.

Although I can see a large portion of the strait from our home, when I approach the water it’s impossible to not stop and take in the view. Here is a strip of road as beautiful as it is treacherous. Yahya Kemal Avenue, lines the western side of the strait, decorated with a large promenade, restaurants and bars.

Like many other districts hugging the Bosphorus, Rumeli becomes wildly congested around noon, which makes longer runs a mentally exhausting task. Running in Turkey is slowly gaining popularity, although it isn’t particularly accessible. A pair of shoes can set you back close to $100 more than in Canada. Of course, the difficult terrain and nearly invisible city planning compound the barriers.

From my current position, I have to make a choice about whether to run north or south. If I head south, I’m treated to a two-kilometre rush

to a small but upscale commercial district. Running north means I share a two-lane stretch with traffic. Sure, there is a sidewalk, but it’s fairly normal in Istanbul to have walkways covered with parked cars because most of the city was designed before the invention of cars. This direction seems to attract more local fishermen than tourists, which creates a cascade of dangerously dangling fish hooks.

Believing the north to be safer, I soon pass through a kilometre of blue bike lanes with white markers that are fading fast. Istanbul struggles with the concept of multi-use pathways, and if it isn’t large groups of people with little to no spatial awareness f looding their paths, it’s the city’s stray dogs that sleep where the bikes ought to roam. The animals of Istanbul are protected by the city and are fairly lethargic, so I don’t have to worry about out-sprinting a four-legged runner. A handful of extremely crowded kilometres later, I begin to approach the Emirgan Woods, a large park near a semi-private harbour that has a short rubber track looping around it that, like the bike lanes, has definitely seen better days. After several laps around the track, I make the trip back home, sprinting for the top of the hill with whatever gusto I can still muster.

Istanbul is a beautiful city steeped in heritage, culture and a sensation of constant transformation. The disarray of the streets can turn a daily run into its own adventure. Adam Roy spends his time running and writing in Edmonton and Istanbul.