Running is how I stay connected to my city
Long distance runners know our sport is the best way to unlock the world around us
I watched our prime minister plead with Canadians to stay home, his podium placed metres from journalists as required by self-isolation. I listened to the radio blare updates about Italy’s everclimbing death toll, about lock-downs in France where the president had declared “war” against COVID-19. I filed my story about three members of one family testing positive for the virus then, almost reflexively, I laced up my runners and fled.
Give or take the specifics, this was the picture of my first work week in this jolting new reality. I am among the mass migration from office to home — fortunate to still be employed, doubly lucky to work safely in my own space — and my days look nothing like they did just a week ago. Tectonic shifts in our world happened daily, or hourly. As the borders closed, as community spread of this deadly virus was confirmed, as provinces declared states of emergencies, I eventually closed my laptop each day and tried to run away from it all.
I have never been more grateful for running.
From the looks of it, I’m not alone, even as I run solo. As gyms, pools, yoga and spin studios close, many of us have turned — or returned — to one of the few activities sanctioned and encouraged by health professionals now, so long as we are still socially distancing. Although races have been cancelled, group runs have been called off and we now have to weave six-foot-wide berths around others, running is as accessible as ever. The requirements remain running shoes and the road.
“OK, now the entire city is out for a run!” wrote Montreal journalist Verity Stevenson on Twitter Wednesday night, observing what many of us did as we looked out the window or set out ourselves to parks and streets across the country. For fresh air or a reprieve from the house, to maintain fitness or mental health, we are pounding the pavement of this new world.
Running is all of the above for me: my favourite way to be outside and my preferred method of exercise. I use it to fight back the mounting anxieties of life — I’ve run off countless busy work weeks, emotionally challenging stories, through a family health emergency. I’ve learned to prioritize runs among food and sleep as necessary for my health, my
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happiness, my sanity.
Long distance runners also know our sport is the best way to unlock the world around us. Slower than a car or a bike and speedier than walking, running lends itself to detailed, even intimate observation while still covering serious ground. On a run, you can read the restaurant sandwich board signs for specials, steal generous glances inside living room windows, bypass outdoor markets and cut through parks in neighbourhoods far from your own.
As crucial as the other benefits are, it may be this aspect of running that’s most important to me now.
Just over a decade ago, I moved across the country to a little apartment off Ossington Avenue. Although I’d run track and field in high school then casually entered a few long distance races, I didn’t start seriously training until I arrived in Toronto. Without realizing it, my runs were how I gradually took ownership of my new city, the streets slowly morphing from foreign to familiar.
I ran loops around Trinity
Bellwoods Park, especially the always-active dog bowl. Well before I knew how to pronounce it, I ventured south on Strachan Avenue, discovering the Martin Goodman Waterfront trail, noticing the white windmills off in the distance before making my way across the Humber Bay Arch Bridge. A move north spurred new favourite routes through Roncesvalles and High Park, around the forgiving dirt paths surrounding Christie Pitts and Queen’s Park.
In 2016, I began training for my first marathon. As the mileage requirements ramped up, I grew bored of my regular routes, needing novelty to get me out the door and ever-further destinations to log the miles. I set off in a direction, letting my watch tell me when to turn around, but otherwise seeing where this road went or what this trail turned into. Along with the classics — the well-trodden paths along Rosedale Valley Road, the Lower Don River Trail, the West Toronto Railpath, Cedarvale Ravine — I explored the not-so known routes, commercial and residential streets in Regent Park and Parkdale, in East York and Yorkdale.
Seasonal changes brought a different kind of discovery. In the summertime, the heattrapping concrete sends runners out before the rest of the city is up, or after they’ve gone to bed.
Even the most familiar streets take on a new look without the crowds or the hotdog stands; running down an abandoned Bloor Street or through an empty Yonge-Dundas Square feels oddly thrilling, like you’re breaking the rules. Winter brings the challenge of finding new routes through snow-covered Toronto, and learning which of your fellow citizens shovel their walks. Fall summons those cool, ideal running days.
On a chilly but perfect morning in October 2016, I ran my first marathon in Toronto, feeling at home up and down and across 42.2 kilometres of this city.
In the span of a few weeks, we have collectively lost many of the small pleasures that make up civic life, though now we see they weren’t so small. We can’t stop into the library, pop by the community centre, watch our kids swing with their friends on a packed playground, sip coffee in favourite cafés or beer in our favourite bars. Our worlds have shrunk, and we cannot move as freely through our own city.
But unless and until it is recommended that I stop, I’ll go for a run. I’ll notice the spring changes to the trees and greening lawns and try to avoid the puddles. I’ll whizz past my neighbourhood bars and my friends’ homes and down streets I’ve never gone down before, and I’ll feel a connection to the city.
RUNNING from L1 In the span of a few weeks, we have collectively lost many of the small pleasures that make up civic life