Escaping the city through running

This fall, two relay teams of four Daily Arts staffers will train for and run the Probility Ann Arbor Marathon. But as writers, we can’t just run the race — we have to write about our past experiences with running, how we are preparing for the marathon, what we look forward to and what we are afraid of.

Throughout my time at the University of Michigan, running has been a constant. It has been instrumental in my love of Ann Arbor — the early morning jogs and evening runs have fostered a newfound appreciation for my second home. There is a certain level of satisfaction that comes with learning the habits of a city: what the good routes with little road traffic are, when a good time to avoid students walking to and from class is and where the flattest sidewalks are. The hidden beauty and many quirks of Ann Arbor have always been most apparent with my running shoes on and music volume halfway up. 

But sometimes the feeling of pavement becomes repetitive. Sometimes dodging cars becomes a hassle. Sometimes you want to run surrounded by trees, birds and clear water and not the constant — but comforting — sound of city life. 

My midwesternness might be showing here, considering how green Ann Arbor is: Its label of “Tree Town” indicates a far cry from a metropolis like New York or Chicago. The Nichols Arboretum and Barton Pond are all within walking, much less running, distance within Ann Arbor. But even in the many parks and natural areas within Ann Arbor city limits, you can’t escape the hallmarks of urban life. Cars and trains can be heard at all hours of the day, no matter where you are; the whole world is always within reach with a simple phone call. Green space is valuable for the livability and mental health of people in metropolitan areas, and during a typical school year, running by the Huron River more than satisfies the deep yearning for nature I feel every year.

However, I got to live in Wyoming for two months this summer — the longest time I’ve spent somewhere that wasn’t in southeast Michigan. I lived in a cabin sandwiched between mountains in a winding valley. I was a 40-minute drive from the nearest town and 20 minutes from reliable cell reception. When I went on morning runs on the hiking paths behind my cabin or on the nearby dirt road, seeing deer, cows and even bears was within reason; thankfully, my worst encounter with animal life while in Wyoming is tied between a slightly too friendly cow and the neighbor’s ranch dog scaring me with loud barks. I was fully immersed in nature, breathing in crisp mountain air with every step I took.

For the first few weeks, I struggled to maintain my typical pace and mileage. I like to chalk it up to the 6,000-foot elevation change, but I admittedly hadn’t been consistently running during weeks prior. This meant the first few runs would be more aptly described as half-walks and half-jogs, but on the bright side, I got to appreciate the most beautiful scenery I’d ever encountered. The shadowed mountain streams and valleys contrasted by stark peaks and sun-exposed ridges made me stop not just to breathe but also to take pictures. Once I did get back into the rhythm of my morning runs, I was melancholic about having to stare at the path for roots and rocks. I had to settle for the sounds, smells and feelings associated with nature: bird songs, cold wind and the sadly constant stench of horse poop. But even these characteristics and their negative side effects (The smell of poop made me hold my breath a shocking amount of times) are preferable to the annoyance of running on pavement and dodging cars. Constantly being surrounded by nature was comforting and the pain in my feet lessened.

I love my runs in Ann Arbor, but a change of scenery was refreshing. Nature has always been a meaningful part of my life and I’m glad I got to experience it in a new light. In my head, running is an urban pursuit — the most wildlife I expect to see is a squirrel. But when in Wyoming, the peaceful sounds and scenic views made for runs where I pushed myself not just to increase my distance on Strava, but because I wanted to see what was over the next rise. 

Managing Arts Editor Zach Loveall can be reached at zloveall@umich.edu.

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