So … some big changes are afoot.
Just a little over two years ago, Noah learned he was accepted to business school in Philadelphia. We were elated, and a couple of months later — following a Brooklyn wedding, a South Carolina mini moon and two freelance projects — we were Pennsylvanians. No, really. Look at my driver’s license. Despite my hesitations, and the pang I felt as the lady at the DMV punched a hole through my New York id, I really, really am.
Philly has been good to us.
For a couple of former New York dwellers, it feels like you can live like royalty in this part of the east coast. And over this time, I’ve learned to love the Philly running scene. I thought it’d be my scene for good, in fact, and I welcomed it with open arms and eager legs. My favorite morning loop is just about five miles, so I’ve wound up running longer and farther more consistently than I ever have before.
I’ve gotten to know the running pathways of Philly just as well as the streets of Manhattan too. The diverging roads that take you slightly north or south of the museum.
The Rocky Steps … because, Rocky.
The pathway that begins at the start of Boat House Row. The river. The rowers — all of it beautiful, rhythmic, like a choreographed dance of sorts.
While perhaps monotonous and expected — after all, if I’ve been running at least five days a week, you can find me on this loop at least four of them — there’s been something truly comforting about my morning excursions. Like that first sip of piping hot coffee, it will feel — not bad, but odd — to be without.
Change isn’t bad; at least, that’s something I continue to tell myself as I get older and it happens more often.
Next Saturday, Noah and I are moving yet again — this time, to our third home on the east coast. This time, to Boston.
Already I can feel it — a love of running that’s as ingrained in the people as is their love of Dunkin Donuts, Tom Brady (#goblue), and the Sox.
Besides a bit more stability than I’ve had over the last two years — between devoting my every waking hour to a fast-growing tech start-up, paying all the rent, shuttling around town for this or that alcohol-drenched Wharton event — I’m genuinely looking forward to joining a community of runners who just get it. No need to explain myself for needing — practically itching — to wake up and run. In Boston, running is simply a part of the town.
But I’m getting ahead of myself here. Noah and I still have 10 more days left in The City of Brotherly Love. That’s 10 days left to enjoy the running paths that, in just two years’ time, I’ve made mine.
Tell me: Have you moved cities or states before? Did you cherish your final running days in the place you previously called home? What steps do you take to get to know your new surroundings?