My journey as a long distance runner who started the sport later in life.
I am a country girl, but I live in a large city; a city that reveres the automobile at the expense of pedestrian convenience. I know this sounds like every other urban center, but in Monterrey, whoever builds the house builds the corresponding sidewalk, or so it would seem, which means major inconsistencies. Just today as I was in the “bicycle lane” and facing oncoming traffic I had a tough choice: stare down the unmoving, oncoming Buick or hit the sidewalk, a recessed sidewalk with a five foot drop over a small cement ledge. I chose the Buick and he finally begrudgingly acquiesced. A jump down to the sidewalk probably would have resulted in broken bones.
There is one place to run that somewhat accommodates runners: Calzada del Valle. On a Sunday they shut down the surrounding boulevard and it becomes San Pedro de Pinta, a free-for-all for runners, triathletes, dog walkers, recreational cyclists, and street vendors. It sounds great, to be sure, but it does get mind-numbingly boring when ever single Sunday LSD run has to end up there. Today I chose a different route, and it worked out, but it wasn’t without some heart pumping hill work that I normally wouldn’t combine with an LSD run. Such is life in a bustling automobile-laden city nestled within mountains.