One interesting challenge of finding different running routes is that my little southwest corner of the city is The Land Where The Sidewalks End.
My house sits at the top of what was once known as “[derogatory nickname for a Polish person] Hill,” and is one of the oldest in the neighborhood. Most of the houses south didn’t appear until the 20th century, and some not until after World War II. Somewhere in there, the city decided residential streets didn’t necessarily need sidewalks. So where you run the new streets around the Shapiro Park neighborhood, named for folks like Eisenhower and Kennedy and Lincoln, you’re either in somebody’s lawn or the road.
With one exception: my road, West Fifth, a thoroughfare that continues long after Second through Fourth and Sixth and everything else disappears. How far, exactly, do the sidewalks go on West Fifth?
So southward ho, leaving my familiar neighborhood to where the houses span further apart and give way to cul-de-sac streets with names like Ash and Lee and Darling. Where Windsong Lane scurries past Heather Way into Lilac Lane. The Fragrance District, one could call it.
The sidewalk of West Fifth finally ends at Mark Fitzgibbons Drive, just before railroad tracks, Eagle Beverage and the city line, but a new sidewalk thrusts westward toward Oswego Middle School. Fitzgibbons takes you past the school and circles up into Murray Street, which becomes a north-south artery of a nouveau riche neighborhood.
My new route passes the land of gates and giant goldfish ponds and gigantic gardens. Of palatial porches and garages the size of a house. “Country living with city convenience” is the code I learned as the real estate editor for The Palladium-Times. Sidewalks connecting a lot of neighbors who would have no intentions of using them. But for kids walking from the middle school and us weird running types, they are our red carpet.
As Murray Street stretches toward my neighborhood, the middle-class houses return and I realize this is the longest I’ve run without stopping since … I don’t even remember. Past Gerritt and a left onto the familiar Ellen Street and I stretch out my stride a bit for the last two blocks (one of which seems way longer than I remember). I feel the runner’s high making everything blissful as I close the loop with a left onto West Fifth and onto my own modest porch.
I’ve now become a wearer of one of those fitness watch/tracker things, and it tells me I did a non-stop 2.4 miles at a bit more than 10 minutes per mile. That’s what I was running way back when I was actually in shape and way younger! My best run in a decade, maybe more.
Plus, I found both where the sidewalk ends and the beginning of a good new route.