How to Run in a New City

And Why You Should

America’s urban centers are broken. Dirty, dangerous, festering crime-holes in dire need of saving. That’s the narrative spun by politicians campaigning on reform and a mass media engine fueled by fear.

Friends, the rumors of our cities’ demise have been greatly exaggerated.

For proof, put yourself in a new place. Lace up and keep an open heart and mind. Running the streets, parks, and pathways of an unfamiliar city is an exercise in curiosity. It helps you process anxiety and build compassion. Plus, it’s a great way to break from routine and connect with your why.

Houston, We Have a Problem

Since the COVID pandemic, cities have felt different, reshaped by shutdowns, general malaise, and isolated unrest. The strain is visible, palpable, painted on concrete with Krylon and stained into the fabric of downtown cores.

For several years, the absence of people in normally vibrant areas gave cities an eerie vibe. Folks like me, who only visited and then returned to rural homes, were left with lingering images of desolation and desperation. Danger, even. If you never went at all, your view was even more skewed.

Boston (Still) Strong

People tend to think tough times are forever. But cultures ebb and flow, bringing communities along in cycles of decline and revival, darkness and renaissance. The shift we felt five years ago isn’t permanent. How do we know? Because America is full of comeback stories.

Detroit: withers in a titanic economic shift, remakes itself as a hub of art and design. New York: bankrupt and burning in the ’70s, many times a target of terror, now the heartbeat of global culture and finance. Seattle: from logging town to tech capital. Pittsburgh: steel collapses, the city emerges to a new future of medicine and robotics.

And Boston. Beloved Boston. I was a few blocks from the marathon finish when the bombing shook the city to its core in 2013. It was painful. You could not have faulted me for staying away. But I returned a decade later, and on shakeout runs in Brookline and Back Bay, I felt the renewal.

The Big Easy Way Back In

Is any place in America more emblematic of the adversity-recovery cycle than New Orleans? Again and again, the city weathers storms and emerges with a song. Dramatic economic disparities can show on the same street, reminding us that one story is never the whole story.

My wife and I recently visited for our twentieth anniversary. A co-worker had warned, “Watch for pickpockets.” A TSA agent said, “Don’t be out after midnight.” We came into town guarded, but with each morning run, I recalled what unfamiliar roads can reveal about a place.

From my journal:

• Friday — Beautiful 6mi run up toward City Park. Beautiful because running in a new city is. Folks on their stoops saying good morning. A horse track active with pre-race warmups. A few blocks along a grassy canal trail. Old mansions painted bright. So dense with vitality, life, and color.

• Saturday — Lovely run along the river through Bywater on the Crescent Park Trail. Couldn’t find it at first but saw a big arching staircase over some train tracks and there it was. Finished with a mile zig-zagging the French Quarter. City is starting to shrink a bit.

Where I had imagined danger, instead I found friendly hellos. Each stride brought the unseen edges of the city closer; the streets as cloth pulled and gathered by my feet as I floated just above.

• Sunday — Up at 7 for 7.7 miles along the river. Stopped for an upscale poop at the Hilton, then down through the Garden District. Found a dramatic tree-lined boulevard and followed it to Magazine Street, just a little farther than where Lisa and I walked a couple days ago.

On family trips growing up, my old man would always be up and out for a run, then back to the hotel and ready for the day before we kids had moved a muscle. I get it now. He was exploring, connecting. Perhaps alleviating some anxiety by pre-running courses the family would walk later.

Over the years, I’ve found a few things that make my own morning jaunts in new places less daunting and more enjoyable. From not getting lost to finding a place to poop, here are a few greatest hits.

How to Do It

First, I want to acknowledge the limits of my perspective. For women, older or younger people, or anyone carrying a different set of concerns and privilege into a new place, things will look different. Filter my ideas through your own lens of risk, comfort, and experience.

Before You Go

• Walk around your ‘hood: Get your bearings and do a vibe check. Note a few landmarks close to where you’re staying that you can refer to later (bonus points for something tall you can see from a distance).

• Check a map: But don’t “plan a route.” Orient yourself to some prominent features (water, hills, highways, buildings), then give yourself a general aim, but leave room to wander.

• Start somewhere alive: Begin on main streets, in a park, or near busy business or tourist districts. Once you’re moving, anxiety will settle and you can explore off the beaten path.

• Share your plan: Tell someone roughly where you’re going and when you think you’ll be back. Carry an ID and a few bucks cash. If your watch has GPS backtrack, be sure it’s turned on.

During Your Run

• Be curious, not efficient: These days aren’t for chasing splits or doing speed work. Let the city lead. Look around with a beginner’s mind, asking, “I wonder who, what, when, where, how, and why…”

• Say hi: To feel more grounded in a place, engage with the people you encounter. A head nod or wave is all it takes to say, “I see you. Thanks for having me here.” Instant community, unlocked.

• Notice the details: Engage your senses. I carry a small waterproof notebook and pen to write about or sketch what I see. Stop, turn around 180-degrees, notice again (this helps with wayfinding, too).

• Poop: My favorite spots for dispensing with unexpected visitors are hotels (walk in like you’re staying there), libraries, grocery stores, and coffee shops. If you need a door code, buy something (that’s what the cash is for).

• If you’re lost: Pause, assess, and respond. If you have a phone, there are lots of options. If not, backtrack with your watch or work toward the landmarks you noted earlier. Unsurety is part of the process. Be patient.

Afterward

• Take a beat: Before you jump into those stats, let the experience land. What do you remember? What surprised you?

• Check the map again: It’s fun to revisit Google Maps or check Strava to see where you actually were versus where you thought you were.

• Journal: Capture a few details while they’re still fresh. One or two sentences is enough. Over time, these small notes become a record of places not as they were described, but as you experienced them.

The Finish Line

“The map is not the territory.”
- Korzybski

It’s tempting, in a world of abundant, instant information, to believe we can understand a place with a few well-constructed search queries. But cities as described and cities as experienced are not the same, and we only close the gap by going ourselves.

The path forward is to put our own feet on the ground and experience these places directly, each time countering the story that they—and we—need fixing. Each time with fresh eyes and an openness to what we can learn about cities, and what they can teach us about ourselves.

Run lightly,
-mike

Running Lightly is free… My love letter to the sport. If you enjoy it, please share with others. If you want to buy me a coffee, well, I accept.

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