So I did a long run today. I awoke to heavy rain and shrouds
of fog on the flanks of the mountains. Stepping out onto the balcony I could
see that the River Inn had risen overnight. I lingered over coffee and wrote a
little, then ate bread and honey for breakfast. When the rain trailed off to a
drizzle I donned my running gear and headed out the door.
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| selfie on the run |
Today I had no agenda. I set an easy pace and headed up the
path that follows the river through Innsbruck. I had no real goal even, only to
run until I felt I had enough. When I reached the first bridge I crossed it
into Innsbruck and away from the river. I skirted the downtown area with its
cobbled streets and medieval buildings in favor of wider sidewalks and fewer
people.
This is my favorite kind of running, and probably anathema
to most runners. I like not having an agenda; I like not knowing where I’m
going or where I’ll end up. I mean what’s the worst that could happen? I’ll
have to walk back? Besides, you can’t get lost in Innsbruck. It’s more of a
town than a city. It is quite safe. The river flows east and west through its
center, and the Alps rise to the north and south in parallel ridges. There is
always a point of reference to tell you where you are at even if you don’t know
exactly where you are.
And so I ran along, following my nose past pizza shops,
churches, bier gartens and bakeries. I skirted construction sites and ran up
cobbled alleys. Soon I came to the Sill River. I have been hoping to fish this
river further up in the gorge, but today it is a raging torrent from all the
rain, and I don’t see how fishing will be possible. I turned and followed the
trail, crossing several more roads. When it reached another old neighborhood as
told by the narrow, twisting cobbled streets and medieval layout I turned
south, away from the river.
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| the rushing Sill River |
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| there's a church every half mile- the perfect distance for absolution if not salvation |
I ran up to a sign that advertised a fly fishing outfitter.
I could understand enough of the German to deduce this, but not enough to know
where the shop was. I thought it said the shop was 5 minutes away. I flagged
down a passing young woman to translate, which she did. Turns out the shop was 50
kilometers away. I didn’t have 50k in me this day. I thanked her and ran on,
turning down the valley.
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| garden. . . |
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| and the runner's ultimate salvation |
From here I entered a residential neighborhood of high-rise
apartments and single family dwellings complete with flower and herb gardens. Mercifully
I found a porta-john on the edge of an empty playground. It was vile but useable.
I ran down several more narrow paved streets,
backtracking from dead ends until I found a major street once again. I passed a
bier garten advertising Maisels Weisse wheat beer. It was so tempting to stop and have one
but I resisted. Soon I was crossing a bridge near my daughter’s apartment. I
had promised to pick up a loaf of bread while out, and so I ran nearly a mile
further on until I found a grocery store. I had a 20 euro note in my pocket.
I had run about 8 miles at this point and looked and smelled
like it and so I entered the store with some trepidation. Would I offend
someone? Would they ask me to leave? At the same time I didn’t care. I don’t
live here. No one knows me. I had nothing to lose. I bought bread and cheese
and chocolate for lunch plus a bottle of water to drink on the walk back.
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| groceries |
It was a great run, and held everything I love about
running- exercise of course, but also adventure, exploration, the unexpected
and unknown. I got to see parts of this town I would not have otherwise.
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| two forms of local transport |
In the end Innsbruck extracted its toll from me. When
emptying the pockets of my running shorts I found I had dropped the 10 euro
note I had left over from my shopping. I fumed for a while over my carelessness
and stupidity, but in the end it was worth the price.
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| I believe I dropped the money here |
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