The River Lee in Cork, Ireland pretty much begs you to run beside it. It is wide in some parts, narrow in others, and it winds through the city into the outskirts of town, disappearing in the trees and farms that make up the city’s suburbs.
I used to run on that river almost every day when I studied at UCC. It was a strange run because it was simply a straight line. Instead of branching off to round it out, I would eventually slow down for one second, almost to a stop, and then turn around and run home. I’d measure my distance by a farm, a vine-entangled building made of stone and certain curves in the river that met the road.
Toward the end of my semester I began pushing my body to its limits. On the latter half of my route, right before pulling away from the river to take a left toward my apartment, my knee would be stabbed with pain. Stubborn as ever, I’d jog on slowly until I got home, put my leg up and threw on some ice to recover. The next day, I would go out again.
I didn’t own a watch in Ireland or a phone or a car, so it never occurred to me to look up my route. Each time I would dare myself to push on and find a new milestone, knowing that the longer I ran, the longer it would take me to get home – I have a tortuous kind of discipline.
Maybe not knowing the mileage made me go farther. I could have measured it on a map or even looked it up online, but at the end of the day, I just don’t think the miles meant that much to me. The route was all that mattered.
For me, establishing a running route is like marking your territory. I had one when I lived at home and when I lived in Philadelphia. There were times when I would stray and it would challenge my strength and lead me to discover new things, but I always stayed somewhat true to my path.
When I came home from Ireland I went to the doctor and eventually I found out that I have runner’s knee and I just can’t run like I used to. That, combined with a rugby injury in college, has kept me bound to a non-impact elliptical ever since.
This past Sunday was unexpectedly beautiful in Boston and when I woke up, the first thing I wanted to do was go for a run – something I haven’t done in a very long time. I have been living in my current apartment for almost a year now, and good knee or bad, it couldn’t possibly feel like home until I’ve marked my territory.
I went for the run and let me tell you, it was humbling. But at least I have my route.
It must feel liberating to run. I don’t really run, somehow I’m always stopping when I do. I stick with elliptical if I want a cardio..
But it must be nice to look at the views when you exercise outdoor like that and breath real air.
Ahh Ireland! I haven’t spent much time in Cork but I need to next time I visit! Sounds lovely.
oh i can relate to this one!
as someone who has every route from 3-11 miles around me memorized, i hear you. im glad you got out there this past weekend and found a new path:)
i wish i had more motivation to actually go out and run, i like to run, i just need the push to do it.
and YAY cork, that just made me miss it, and i’ve been really missing it a lot the last few weeks. boo.
and vic lodge? funny i never went to vic lodge in the 2 years i was at ucc. i lived in leeside when studying abroad and then houses while doing my MA.
[...] daily routine included that much walking. I stood outside for moments catching my breath after my long runs along the River Lee, sweating and limping a little from the knee problem I was giving myself. I gave my final goodbye [...]