I know you're thinking my running shoes on the pavement but sadly I mean the sound of pouring down rain. Its finally that season in Rome. I wake up and its pouring so much that I want to crawl back into bed.
This morning however was different. I went with my Prof to an amazing street market in the pouring down rain at 7:45 am. All I could think was that I should have gone running yesterday when it wasn't pouring. O well. Such is life.
So after that really sweet street market (can you say Christmas present shopping?) I came home soaked to the skin even though it had finally stopped pouring and I treuly felt the call of the road. I've felt this call before, but not like this. All I could think about was running swiftly along the tiber, shorts and a longsleeve (perfect cool but not freaking cold weather, ah the joys of fall). Even though I promised to not run by myself in Rome, today I just couldn't convince anyone to go with me. I figured though at 11 am on a Sunday, who would really be out there? Before I knew it I was changed and walking out the door, ready to start hitting the pavement, or should I saw, cobblestones. I noticed that the stones were starting to dry and little pieces of blue were emerging. Maybe it would be a good run afterall. I headed out from the Campo on my usual route but at a much swifter pace, invigorated by the crisp fall weather and running on my own .
Despite it being 11 am, late for starting a run on a Sunday, I saw a shocking number of runners on the Tiber. Unlike other mornings, they all smiled at me when I smiled back, in fact, one guy even winked at me in a not creepy way. The run seemed to be going great. Running by myself is so meditative. Don't get me wrong, I'm not sure I could do my extra long runs all by myself, but for a few runs sometimes its really nice to get out ther alone. It gives me a chance to think about life and have a little Soph time before returning to my apartment with 8 other girls where alone time is nothing but a creul fantasy.
Before I knew it I was at my turnaround spot, heading back to the Campo happy as could be. As I started to head back, suddenly I found myself back at Ponte Sisto, my bridge back over the Tiber home. How did that happen? How was I all of a sudden about to finish my run? I felt like I had just started it. I guess I run faster by myself then with other people (shocker). But still, the way back felt like a blink of an eye. As I people dodged my way down the cobblestone streets back to the Campo, I couldn't help but think how lucky I am to run along the Tiber, past St. Peters and Castle S. Angelo. What will happen when I return to Seattle and there are no more monumental landmarks? It'll be sad but at least there are actul parks and trees and trails and NO COBBLESTONES (they really wreak havoc on my running shoes!)
Maybe next weekend I'll get to venture out on my own again. On Tuesday we leave for Naples/Amalfi coast for a week and hopefully I can squeeze in a gorgeous coastal run maybe to watch sunrise over the Mediterranean.
Happy running!
Soph
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