Pardon me, Fifteen Miles, but do you really want some of this? Do you? Really?

And so were some of the thoughts bouncing around an unsteady mind as I tromped my way through the streets of Philadelphia, searching out fifteen downhill miles that would still lead me back to my starting line. I had grown weary of the Kelly Drive loop—last Monday, I ran the four mile back stretch without seeing another living being aside from all the geese in Canada, dodging their crap my afternoon's only diversion.

So for this long run, I mapped out a route through the streets of Philadelphia that would take me past historic sites, motivational monuments, and Wawas where I could refuel on Gatorade and a bacon and cheddar breakfast hoagie. I abandoned that route within a few blocks as I was pushed onto side streets by Septa busses and red lights, but with my handy GPS watch (it’s the size of a car battery, but I love it), I was able to improvise a fifteen mile run through the city of brotherly love.

Along the way, I learned many things. One, Philadelphia is not as large a city as I thought it was. I ran from the Art Museum down to Delaware Avenue, down into South Philly, up into Old City, back to Delaware Ave, up to Northern Liberties, back to Fairmount, and I still had to run four laps around the Eastern State Penitentiary to tally fifteen miles. I also realized that Rocky’s run was not as impressive as I once thought it to be. He really should have bounced up those steps the first time. I followed his route and took a turn down 9^th street and into the Italian market, pumping my arms past rows of produce and dodging a moped teetering under a stack of caged chickens (running through the smoke from the oil barrel bonfires felt particularly cinematic).

As I ran through the theater crowds on Broad Street and the tourists on Chestnut and the hipsters on Second and the two guys on Girard yelling at Alicia across the street to “Get your ass off the corner, girl!” I realized that I was that guy, the one running past you on the sidewalk with snot smeared across his tight sport-tec jacket, eyes swollen with exhaustion, that dude bounding past you while you sit there and try to remember the last time you exercised—the kind of guy I used to dodge as I walked my dog and thought, “Go find a track. Douche.” I was that lone runner, running in places where no one else was running, because I must like to run or show people how I like to run and run far and run all over the place because I just can’t stop running and I run everywhere. I don’t. I’m not. But as I came to my finish line outside the Bishop’s Collar on Fairmount Avenue (it’s amazing how all routes seem to end there), I stopped after having kept my legs moving for the longest continuous amount of time in my thirty-five years, and I breathed deep and let out a loud “F-you, fifteen!” Nearby, an old man was walking his dog. He didn’t look at me. But I know what he was thinking.

PARIS UPDATE

If you have been following the French news, you will see that those of you who were planning on wearing an Islamic face veil to hide from the embarrassment of running a nine hour marathon, well, you are out of luck (I wonder if anyone will run in a veil in protest). You should have recently received your monthly update from the Paris marathon—or dig it out of your spam folder, it’s a good read. I’m hoping that the shaky translations from French to English are not indicative of the overall organization of the race—see “Our runners friends and their families are always welcome but our wish is to welcome moreover, all the children who want to run on route that the champions will go through the next day! Between 2 km or 5km, in the choice.” Or “Discover Bultex, the material of the sleep.” (I can’t resist cheap FR/EN chuckles – it’s not like they won’t be laughing at my French!) This breakfast run is interesting if anyone is traveling with family who would like to try to do a short run the day before and experience some of the route. Check it out HERE. But the highlight of the newsletter and the new route map: SPONGES! Every 5km, sponges! What this means, or what I am to do with a sponge (Sop up my tears? Wear it like a beret? Practice responsible family planning?), I’m not sure, but at this mind-quieting distance, a sponge qualifies as something to look forward to.

Speaking of things to look forward to, thanks to Mike for this idea (or blame to Mike for this homework assignment): Between now and Paris, I’m hoping that each of the Paris twelve and/or their friends, families, or followers of this blog might post some information about and photos of the sites we will be passing during our run (just ripping stuff from Wikipedia is totally acceptable for this task). This might help some of us get reinvigorated about what we are going to have the chance to do in three months, and it might give us something to distract ourselves from what we are doing as we plod through Paris (Hey, we aren’t all just running in a 26 mile circle for a t-shirt; We’re 37,000 hurried tourists looking for the Louvre!). I’ve looked at the route, and it might be great to get some more information about the following locations that we will be seeing should we be able to pick our heads up long enough (and forgive the spelling, I’m taking these off a blurry course map):

The Arc de Triomphe

The Champs Elysses

Place de la Concorde

Musee de Louvre

Hotel de Ville

Place de la Bastille

Chateau de Vincennes

Cahedrale Notre Dame

Musee d’Orsay

Tour Eiffel

Grand Palais

Trocadero

74 days and counting! Plans for the post-race party are well underway, as are the specifics of a send-off soirée. Fifteen more miles this weekend—anyone want to see Philadelphia? Like, all of it?