I have been running on Saturday’s for about two weeks now, and I am getting back into the swing of it. The interesting thing about running is that it’s always challenging. It never quite feels routine, and if it does there are ways to ‘spice it up.’ You can add sprints, and jumping if you’re running where there are convenient obstacles, like the fences that are relatively common around the Washington Mall area.
I try to get a run in in most places that I visit, which adds to the interest. Belgium has some really interesting forest–visualize New York’s Central Park, but wilder, though perhaps not as large. I was in Cuzco, Peru about two years ago, but didn’t run while I was there. This had a bit to do with the higher altitude as well as that I saw no other runners. As a tourist, I try not to look too much like one. It’s often inevitable, especially when your grasp of the native language doesn’t happen to be that strong, but I don’t like to do anything that makes it more obvious than it needs to be because tourists can easily be the victims of violence or theft.
And, knock on wood, I haven’t had either happen to me, and I have been traveling for a few years now.
One of the best runs overseas that I have had was in Lesotho, Mohale’s Hoek.
There’s a paved highway, a main road that runs from one end of Lesotho to another. Where I lived on one side of the road were dongas–areas where the topsoil have collapsed, leaving white, bleached skeletons of rock–where perhaps there was once a lake. On the other was often a small store, or houses.
There weren’t joggers in the district that I lived in, though I did see an occasional runner in the capitol city of Maseru when I visited on occasion.