It's been a sort of a relaxing weekend. Lisbon, like Sheffield apparently, 7 hills, errr.. and that's about it for comparisons. From a running around point of view, it's been early mornings, again to watch the sun rise, but also to beat the crowds. And traffic. And the heat. Remote urban running, as I've eluded to before, is complex from a planning point of view. Ok, not really complex, just not the same as at home where you have a route that has a beginning and an end, and essentially you run all the way.
Here, it's full of distractions, obstacles and things worth poking your nose into. I could also use words like slow, short and actually really good fun. But you don't really come back self satisfied as a result of a jolly good work out, more entertained. This is where running isn't about the exercise or a workout, but more a route to exploration and adventure. At home, you'd be cursing the irregularity and undulating pavement surface, blaming the poor weather and council for its state of disrepair.
Here, the lumpen cobbled streets are a wonder of detail and civil engineering. And the hills. I do have an inherent urge to seek a way to get to the top of something I see, a big hill, some kind of structure. I'm not sure where it comes from, but there's a sense of self satisfaction that comes from making it to the top and of failure if you for some reason didn't try. There's no lacking of opportunity to run a hill here. In fact you're lucky, if that's the right word, to avoid it.
But there a commanding view of the town up on Parque Eduardo, with the huge Portuguese flag billowing in the light early morning breeze. It's hard not to stop, never mind for a breather, but simply to take in the air and reflect. Time slips away. As it does being sort of captivated by the different textures everywhere. tactile tiled facades, embossed wall coverings...it's an endless detail, details you don't see today. Someone thought it worth the effort...and like getting out of bed on a morning for a leg stretch, quite satisfying.
