"She's mad but she's magic;
There's no lie in her fire."
Making the decision to run 27 miles was easy; saying it out loud is what made me crazy. I'd never trained at that level, never gone beyond 26.2 in a race, never enjoyed such distance and time on a run. And so, on a chilly Saturday in May, I set out, camera in hand, to record the moments and the smiles dotting my last 3.5 years running in Philadelphia.
Twenty Seven miles represented by Twenty Seven pictures, four hours and six minutes of memories: the smiles that happened in a flash captured for a lifetime. This run was ridiculously grueling and unexpectedly forgiving; simple, straight and all mine; not confined to time or pace; basic like the beginning and strong like the finish line, designed with the whimsy of a little girl lost in something she loves:
The beginning: My loyal Charlie - up with me at 4:30AM for wheat bagels and blackberry jam with half a cup of coffee and the final glass of water - helping me get my water bottles ready, charging the camera, stretching and working out the nerves. He is truly the best trainer I've ever had.
Mile 1: The view down the parkway from the Art Museum Steps that I'm lucky enough to have at the beginning of almost every run I take in Philly. It was clear of people and cars so early on a Memorial Day Weekend (6:05AM).
Mile 2: The Geese finally had their babies! This was a huge family on its way to breakfast. For me, they represent the consistency I love about running the Loop in Philly. The same Geese are in the same spots along the path. I knew before I saw this family, that I was about to run into them because of the time of day and location.
Mile 3: The Power Plant. Running back behind Naval Square off of 26th and Catharine, you find really huge, industrial, scary looking buildings. The quiet encountered here, in contrast to the overpowering buildings, is truly awesome. No people, no traffic, no litter, no real signs of life and no distractions. Sometimes I think I could stay here forever.
Mile 4: Crossing the South Street Bridge and heading into UPenn territory. This is, without a doubt, one of my favorite places to run in all of Philadelphia. UPenn is a city unto itself. It is sheltered and traversed mainly by students and people wearing scrubs. It is manicured, well lit, clean, and slightly unbelievable in its serenity so close to Center City. I feel anonymous here. I feel like I belong here. Crossing under this overpass is, quite simply, like coming home at the end of a long day and closing the door behind me; instant silence and comfort.
Mile 5: It's on this hill at Spruce Street, heading toward the bigger, badder numbered streets, that my spirit is repeatedly built and broken. This picture does not do the incline or uneven pavement justice. Trust that these are the hills that comprised the hill workouts that prepared me for a ridiculous marathon in Lancaster. This is the place that makes me stronger.
Mile 6: The intersection of 48th and Spruce has been my turnaround point since I discovered the UPenn hills. I think it's beautiful because it represents a few miles of downhills (see above) and also because of its emptiness. An empty school overlooking empty stands along the side of an empty, manicured field. It is quiet and screaming "Do better!" all at the same time.
Mile 7: A huge thanks to CHOP for creating this little park. It's a natural stopping point and always empty. Too many hospital rooms look down on it for me to feel comfortable staying very long. But every time I'm here, I look up at one or two of those windows and am reminded I'm healthy and I'm lucky. Off I go.
Mile 8: This is but a little snippet of the beauty lining the streets back by all of the hospitals. Miles go by with me wondering what kind of flower this is and what kind of flower that is. Thinking to myself, my mom would know this, when will I?
Mile 9: Philly is still a world away as Mile 9 falls down with me circling grass fields on a walking path at the base of Franklin Field.
Mile 10: Running across, under and over various sets of train tracks - this is a set that borders the park at Mile 9 - Every time I see these old supports side by side with new bridges built from materials I can't pronounce, I am amazed at the respect for the past - so evident here - and beautiful.
Mile 11: Locust Walk. This is what made me fall in love with running back in University City all of those years ago. It was December, there were white twinkle lights and the kind of glowing Christmas Balls you see in Rittenhouse Square hung everywhere. It was dark at 5PM and all of the students were hustling and all bundled up. It felt uniquely collegiate and special. Every time I head down this little walkway, I'm reminded of that December and can almost smell the snow in the air. This is one of those places burned into all of my senses and never far from my thoughts.
Mile 12: I'm not sure what this to the general public, students, professors, or anyone else walking through campus in the last few decades, but, to me, it is my focal point from the time I arrive. I head toward it when I'm tired and tell myself, "Just get to the red thing," and "Oh there it is!" I cross under it and feel instantly like I've broken finish line tape and am looking for my medal. It's ugly, huge and red but I love it and I think it loves me back.
Mile 13: The parking lot at Penn is all cleared out for the summer! Sigh...
Mile 14: Huge. Scary. Intersection. With the city looking compact enough to fit inside a snow globe, all I ever want to do is fly through this intersection on the Penn side of the South Street Bridge and return home. This happens once every 5-6 times I attempt to do so.
Mile 15: Oh hello, Art Museum, I'm back! This little hill is the last one of this 27 miler and the last of almost all of my runs. It feels like I've hit the downside of something huge - whether its 6 miles or 30 - there is nothing like the flat miles to come!
Mile 16: The one mile marker of so many runs...the home stretch of the Philly Marathon and countless half marathons...the beginning and the end; the completion of a circle that only I own. Other than that, I have no idea what this statue is supposed to be...
Mile 17: Crossing under the Girard Bridge at Mile 17 was the moment I realized this run was going to be tough and take guts to complete. My arms started getting tired of reaching for the camera here. This is my favorite of all of the views on the Loop. Crossing over (or under, really) out of the dark and into the light where the rowers cut the water and the sky is blue and the trees are green and all is right with the world for that first moment.
Mile 18: Approaching the "big stone bridge." I'm really not sure what this is or if it's an actual, working bridge. There are grandstands just beyond this point where a lot of the rowing parents sit during the regattas and a glorious water fountain that's saved my ass more times than I'd care to admit resides there too. It's one of four mile markers I use on almost every run no matter how far I'm going. And the sight of it, from far away, gives me the "you've almost made it" butterflies.
Mile 19: Meeting up with my Students Run Family at miles 15 through 21 of this journey really made the difference. One of my favorite kids responded this way when I asked how she was feeling on her 6 mile run.
Mile 20: The Strawberry Mansion Bridge. The keeper of prayers and secrets; picnics and curse words; deep stretches and really icy patches in January; and the 3 mile marker coming and going.
Mile 21: (Note: At this point, the running is hard, my legs are heavy and I'm very aware there are 6 more miles to go and so I find my mind wandering...) This is Rachel and the Mile 19 Student. It's 9:30AM on a Saturday morning. Rachel got up early, got dressed, left her husband and daughter, traveled from NJ on Memorial Day Weekend, and fought to park. All so she could be here, in this moment, having this conversation with this kid. Students Run Philly Style is fueled by this kind of accountability and dedication: No less. No different.
Mile 22: More ducks and geese at the very beginning of Boat House Row. I used to look at this view from 76 and think it so majestic; like it was something I would never truly get near - an icon so far removed from my life down the shore that I'd only see it going to and from the King of Prussia Mall or on posters - and so I love this behind the scenes look at something so typically pristine and polished.
Mile 23: Speaking of...No photo album would be complete without this picture. It is, after all, uniquely and solely Philadelphia. While it may not be something I look for anymore, it's not because it's ceased to be a beacon. But rather, because I know it will always be there.
Mile 24: The Three Mile Green House. This little neon green shack means more to me than most places do. It is the three mile marker of my very first 6 mile run and all those that followed. It was my first turn around point, the first time I ventured off of Kelly Drive, where I cried when I was dealing with a stress fracture, where I learned what pain was, the focus of a lot of my half marathons ("just get to the freaking green house") and a little reminder of how far I've come. There is also a flower bed full of random herbs here. The rosemary never disappoints.
Mile 25: This picture has it all: the skyline, the art museum, the waterworks, lawns, trees, flowers, water, a small waterfall, a walking path and even, if you look closely, geese. But that's not why I took it. It is a reminder to never, ever, no matter the circumstances, ever end such a run on West River Drive. This was my first glimpse of civilization. The miles that came before brought tears to my eyes with their monotony and made me question whether I'd actually finish without stopping. There was simply nothing whatsoever to focus on. Nothing to draw me near. Nothing to think about reaching out and touching. And then this beautiful city appeared and I decided to run toward it. And that made all the difference.
Mile 26.3: This is what I look like after running farther than I've ever run before (26.3 miles). If you can't tell, I'm wearing neon and am on top of the world. Just behind me is the Cira Center and in front of me is the Edgewater. I'm almost back to the very simple beginning with aching ankles and a super goofy smile.
Mile 27: At 19th and Market, in the middle of the street on a Saturday morning on Memorial Day Weekend, staring at stillness with eyes landing on City Hall knowing I just gave up on the good and got the great.
And so, on a very chilly May morning, after four hours, 50+ pictures, one Students Run practice, a sprinkle of rain, a lot of stretching, a few baby geese, some ducks, a black squirrel, jogging strollers, puppies, familiar faces, and not enough water, I realized that the thing to do is enjoy the ride while you're on it. Pain and all. Because there are no guarantees that you'll get to go around again.
This entry, then, becomes a gift to myself.
A way to remember an epic ride.
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