Back to the Pavement

Exchanging mountain trails for concrete paths is an interesting trade.

Back to it. Shoes on. Gloves and beanie too. A sight never seen back home. And yet, this routine feels homely now. I like that. The notion that a morning run had blended into the fabric of the day. Even without it for a while, it returned with ease. I think in large part because I just enjoy it.

While the serenity, the greenery, and the fresh air of the Kii Peninsula forests are not quite replicated here, there still exists a different kind of beauty, if you’re open to it. At the start of my run, it didn’t necessarily feel that way.

I set off towards the river, hoping for it to gently guide me towards Ōsaka Bay. I now understand the concept of Ōsaka being a port city. Within maybe two minutes, I was met with industrial monotony. Docked ships. Various shapes of heavy machinery. Large warehouses. People? Not so much. Which isn’t to say that this wasn’t enjoyable, yet I was searching for something more. Nevertheless, good insight into the city.

For me this year, running is a gateway to explore a city in all directions. An invitation to lose yourself down side streets. Take impromptu detours through parks and pretty shops. An excuse to move through a place without a plan, or an agenda, opening myself up to immersion.

In gazing out over the bay, I accidentally lap my watch, adding a monumental personal record kilometre time of 41 seconds. Nice. It brings a smile to my face and makes me glad to not care all that much about statistics and Strava scrutiny. Counterintuitively, I think that deleting the app has helped me to be a better runner. Anyway, I’ll take the sneaky boost to my otherwise deathly-slow pace this morning.

I consider turning back when it feels like the bay is a little out of reach for the morning, but I notice a green rectangle ahead on Google Maps so carry on a while longer. Finally, people! For such a densely populated country, city streets in Ōsaka and Tōkyō sometimes feel profoundly quiet, especially on this Sunday. The contrast from one street to the next is unique here, perhaps stemming from just how seamlessly residential life integrates within the tapestry of the city at large. In Japan, there appears far less of a suburbia-city divide as opposed to Australia. People often live and work and shop in small microcosm neighbourhoods, rather than making a mass migration each day from the suburbs to CBD.

There has been a clear pattern when following these green patches on my runs. Almost inevitably, I stumble across a baseball game. It always makes me smile, reciprocating the looks on the faces of the children out there enjoying there weekend. Run a little further—tennis. Maybe even some basketball, too. A wider park opens up. Now, people are everywhere. Such contrast.

I lose my way trying to find the main street. I run with my phone, but try not to hold it if I can help it. This morning, the sun was guiding me—until it wasn’t. Nevertheless, the improvised route takes me past a stadium, some schools, and another park with more happy kids racing around.

Once I find the main street, the shape of the run changes entirely. Many people. Many sights and sounds. Many traffic lights, too. I don’t mind too much though. They give me a chance to take my head away from the pavement and just look around. Watch others move through their day.

There is a long line for something. Not quite sure what. Perhaps the big ferris wheel or aquarium I was somewhat aiming for. Further along, a McDonald’s. A Domino’s. Ah yes, the big city. That’s right. For some reason, there are two yellow cars parked with gigantic, wailing sirens affixed. The surprising number of people I spot inside the cars wave to me. Some kind of radio station is my best guess. I catch a few words over the loudspeaker. Too few to understand though, of course. I keep running and eventually hit my training goal before even being remotely close to home. I was slow today. I call it there and instead decide to explore a massive supermarket along the road. Good call. Mary was happy with my breakfast selection today. The walk home is nice. Cold, but nice. I enjoy it here. That afternoon, I venture out for another short run. I like how that has become somewhat of a default for me when I need a change of scenery. Anyway, as I write this, I regret that decision somewhat. My calf hurts. Alas.

The monotony of mountain passes can add to their appeal. Here, the diversity is what stands out and keeps you running further away from home for more. It may be a concrete jungle, but I find jungles quite fascinating. I hope to explore more of it in the coming days.