I run Philly.
It’s a phrase I’m starting to get used to — a mantra I’ve repeated over and over in my head as I’ve slogged my way through humid mornings, hazy evenings and, more recently, a few absolutely perfect summer days.
But one of the biggest aha moments of late was actually the product of a recent trip back to New York. Do I miss my city? Yes. Especially since swapping my license for one of a Pennsylvanian. But when I went back last weekend, I was immediately overwhelmed — by the size of the streets, the noise of the people, the chaos of the cars. There’s a lot of things I’ve yet to find in Philly, but when it comes to the aforementioned, this city can feel like a dream.
On my mornings runs, I’ve begun to discover a few landmarks to call my own. In Manhattan, it was the lower loop of Central Park, the High Line, the East River (both in midtown near the Queensboro Bridge and on the path from 34th street south). In Philly, here’s what I’ve found.
The side streets. Lush and quiet with cobblestones for days. I could spend hours weaving in and out of these pathways.
The Schuylkill. Especially on a sunny day.
The Philadelphia Museum. Before the tourists strike.
Rocky. I mean, obviously.
The streets. There are a few things here and there to heart. This obviously isn’t a route though — just a part of getting out there.