Writing Uphill: Best ways to see the land, Part 2

Okay, I’ve argued that driving is a better way to see the country than flying. But once you get to wherever you’re going, nothing beats running for exploring a new place.

After arrival in New Orleans, I conducted some research into running routes. My first step was to consult the hotel desk manager. She handed me a map, and suggested I run down the middle of St. Charles Avenue, between the railroad tracks. She noted that after a few blocks of concrete street, the tracks would run in the grass instead, making running more pleasant. Though friendly and willing to help, she was not sufficiently perceptive to notice my confused expression, and she hurried off to help other guests. I stood there blinking for a minute or so….did she really just tell me to run down the train tracks in the middle of a street in downtown New Orleans?

Interview over, I returned to my room and consulted friend Google, who revealed that yes, indeed, the St. Charles trolley tracks are (is??) a favorite route for local runner. (Golly, there has got to be a way to repair the grammar in that sentence, but I don’t know what it is. Fortunately, this is not my dissertation, so I am not obligated to invest the time.) On the St. Charles trolley route is Audubon Park, which reportedly features a two-mile running path lined with stately oaks. Mapping the route, I learned the round trip to Audobon Park would be over 10 miles, a bit much for an out-of-shape grad student in a strange city at night.

So, I revisited the front desk in search of trolley details. This time, my helper was a friendly young man. He suggested I ride the trolley to Audubon Park and then run back, perhaps reboarding the trolley at Lee Circle to avoid running the downtown streets (and, said he, Lee Circle is worth running around a couple of times). A true gentleman, he was concerned for my safety, and warned me not to start my run before 6:00 a.m., not to run when the park was closed (unless the ROTC was drilling there), and to keep left on the trolley tracks to avoid being run over.

The next night I implemented this plan. I walked to the trolley stop (my friend from the front desk had directed me to a stop serving only the St. Charles line, so I couldn’t possibly go astray). Though I’d been warned about erratic trolley schedules, my timing was perfect and a trolley rolled up within 30 seconds. Thanks again to my young friend, I was prepared with $1.25 in exact change, and I climbed aboard.

Everything went great and I enjoyed the ride and the view until, just past Lee Circle, it started to rain. The trolley driver closed the windshield, and the rest of us scrambled to shut the windows. I was very sad…my beautiful run was going to get ruined by rain! I don’t mind running in a light rain at home, on streets I know, but did I want to get caught in a storm in an unfamiliar city, miles from my hotel? I decided to just ride to the end of the line, pay another $1.25, and ride back.

As we rolled along, and I tried to peer out the rain-covered windows, I reconsidered. I had already skipped out on a meet-and-greet at my conference to go running, and I didn’t want it to be for nothing. Plus, I had worn my Winslow shoes, so it would be a shame if I didn’t get muddy. I decided to at least run the two miles around Audobon Park, and then I could hop back on the trolley. Fortunately, by the time we got to the park, the rain had lessened a bit. I found the path and set off. The dirt path looked muddier than it actually was. Even the places with standing water were surprisingly solid under my feet.

While on the trolley, I had only seen three runners, all male, running down the tracks. In the entire loop through the park, I saw less than half a dozen. Apparently running is not the most popular activity for rainy Saturday nights in New Orleans. I said a quick hi to the first runner I saw. No response. Hmmmm….that’s okay, she probably had a long day. Anyway, I’m both a Texan and an Aggie, so I shouldn’t be saying hi anyway. The next three runners received a friendly hand-wave, a smile, and a howdy. No response. How very odd. In Texas, nearly all runners are willing to return a friendly greeting. Even if they are clearly running hard, doing intervals or a tempo run or whatever, they manage a polite nod. On rainy or really hot days in Texas, when all the sensible people are indoors, the few die-hards are especially friendly—I think prompted by an “oh good, someone else is also crazy enough to be out here” kinship. Not in New Orleans. Is it possible Louisianans do not know the word “howdy?”

Anyway, by the time I finished the park loop, I was having a blast and was not about to climb onto a streetcar, rain or no rain. I was still scared of running on the tracks. These are called trolleys, not trains, but as far as I am concerned, anything that runs on rails is a train, and walking or running on train tracks is a bad idea. I opted for the sidewalk. I ran a couple very pleasant miles on the sidewalk, enjoying the gentle rain.

I started to wish I’d run at least a block or two on the tracks, just so I could say I’d done it. And, as I got closer to downtown, the sidewalk became difficult, with many cross streets, driveways, cars, and tipped-up sections of sidewalk. I decided the train tracks might be not only more satisfying, but also safer. I was right.

The trolleys, on two parallel sets of tracks, run along St. Charles’ grassy median, between the traffic lanes. Since only a few cross streets intersect the median, I didn’t often have to stop and look for traffic. On the sidewalks, there was danger from cars and people, both unpredictable. On the median, no one could back a car into me without warning. Anyone wishing to surprise me from behind and drag me into a dark alley would have to cross a street to do it, and any potential attack would take place in full view of pedestrians, drivers, and possibly trolley passengers. Once I got used to the concept, I felt right at home running down the median, between the two sets of tracks.

Here, my only danger was from the trolleys themselves. Fortunately, unlike cars and pedestrians, trolleys are very predictable. They have no choice but to follow the rails. Like cars, trolleys drive on the left. So, by staying left, I could avoid being hit from behind, and I would see oncoming trolleys in time to get out of the way. My one fear was that two trolleys, one from each direction, would converge at the exact time I was running between them. I think there was room, just barely, for an average-sized human to fit between the trolleys as they passed each other. But I knew it would be terrifying, and I wasn’t about to take any chances. Whenever I approached an oncoming trolley, I glanced behind me to see if the coast was clear. If it was, I ran down the right-hand set of tracks, well away from the oncoming trolley as it passed. Only once did both trolleys pass me at nearly the same time. I dodged them both by moving to the far left edge of the median, letting both trolleys pass on my right.

When I set out from my hotel, I felt a bit self-conscious (running shorts are not normal attire on Bourbon Street). By the time I finished, I was running down Canal Street, with its shops and nightlife, dodging pedestrians dressed to the nines, and I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. (I lost my nerve when the sidewalk was occupied by rows of tables, complete with fancy place settings, set up by a restaurant for outside find dining. I wish I’d run between the tables, instead of skirting around, running on the street). I drew the line at running down Bourbon Street—it was just too crowded, especially with all the umbrellas. And, a common-sense voice inside told me that there are some places in which you don’t want to draw undue attention to yourself. This part of New Orleans has a spirit about it that I pray I never become comfortable with.

Wow, what a marvelous run! I had a big silly grin plastered across my face the whole time. It was a joy to feel the rain, and drink in the atmosphere, architecture and plant and people life. You just can’t get this sort of an experience in a car. I don’t think you could get it by walking either, and I’m not sure why. It’s partly the speed—my run may be slow, but it’s quite a bit quicker than walking. Yet I don’t think that’s the whole reason….I think running adds a certain intangible “aliveness” that is necessary to truly appreciate and connect with everything you see. And, as I learned today, running imparts courage.

So, next time you go somewhere new, don’t forget your running shoes.