These Streets

I moved to Philadelphia in the Summer of 2003, BA in hand, salt water still starching my red hair and scared to death of getting lost despite the city's grid.  Quick to appreciate cabs and the art of being driven, my car moved only down 95 to my law school and back; my body moved at a gym approximately 100 steps from my apartment; and my anxiety hit levels of tension beyond my wildest dreams.  I moved to the suburbs in the Summer of 2004. 

Now, back in Philadelphia since 2006, I am not afraid.  Of getting lost, at least. Running has given be the remarkable opportunity to learn and to know  - I mean truly know in the approximate amount of miles from the Art Museum to the intersection of 20th and Market sort of way - more than a few exceptional areas of this city.


Such a transformation from the wide-eyed, overwhelmed girl I was is hit home by Paolo Nutini in "These Streets."  He reminds me that we can get used to most things, if we embrace the change.    

"These streets have too many names for me
I'm used to Glenfield road and spending my time down in Orchy
I'll get used to this eventually
I know, I know."


For instance, on one of my recent 6 mile morning runs down East River Drive, I realized I knew how many boathouses there were, where certain fell among them and what I would likely see on the porches [laundry hung out to dry at the Vesper club, etc.] that wrap them.  I know where Lemon Hill takes you (and where it doesn't: back down to east river drive quickly).  If called upon, I could even tell you how to get from UPenn to the Please Touch Museum (the new location) and back downtown via West River Drive.  My world, simply, is more open now because my footsteps fall over this city without hesitation.  I have almost twenty months of miles logged through these parks, over the hills and under the bridges, down East River and up West River, through campuses, alive and ghostly, and back to where I started. 


And once again, this freedom is why we run this city - one mile or twelve - rain or shine - dusk or dawn.