The Running Dan: July 2010

I'm going to tell you a little secret; if you want to get to know a city, I mean really get to know a city, you want to run in it. Before, I have talked about how I ran the Rocky Run in Philly, and with my buddy Jim in the suburbs there. I ran in Tampa Bay out onto the causeway watching the calm water and mistaking feral cats for hungry alligators. Let me tell you about running in Vegas.

Middle of June, I was in Vegas for my Brother-in-Law's wedding, and sure enough, I packed the Nikes to see if I could get a run in. Luckily, the first night there was neither enough alcohol or Star Trek slot machine binges to keep me from getting up in the morning to see the Strip at a 10 minute mile pace at 6 AM. What a difference a few hours makes!

We all know they Strip at night; the throngs of people, the heavy smell of smoke and booze, the din emanating from the open casinos, the clacking of semi-pornographic cards vendors are run through their fingers to try to get you to take their wares in order to have the young lady featured on the card show up in your room. (I have an inkling the young lady who would show up at your room bares little resemblance to the wanton nude on the card; I never intend to find out for myself though, so if anyone can clue me in, I would appreciate it!) That's the Strip at night, a swirling Dali-esque miasma of light and sound made surreal by the inability of your senses to absorb it all into your consciousness. So what happens when the sun comes up?

There I was, six in the morning, out to see for myself. I started from the Las Vegas Hilton, running past the Sahara, and looping around between it and the Stratosphere to bring me onto Las Vegas Boulevard, and toward the center of everything. At first, it was very quiet, and I didn't see a whole lot of anyone. Pleasant really. Then, the cast began to assemble.

First, there was the college age man, looked like a jock, still stumbling under the effects of whatever inebriation he had indulged the night before. He looked angry, and kicked at things on the ground. I passed him carefully, and was probably about a hundred yards past him when I heard him exclaim at the top of his lungs, “FUCK!” A bestial cry which I can only assume involved a female of his species who was no longer in his company. The homeless (I assume) littered the sidewalks, causing me to on at least one occasion actually jump over one's sprawled legs reaching nearly to the street. Perhaps I stereotype to call on the word “junkie” but that kind of unconsciousness I think comes only at the point of a needle. I saw another homeless man, his tweed jacket threadbare, his shoes white leather and very pointy. His hat was like something Radar O'Reilly would wear on “M.A.S.H.” and under his arm? A laptop computer. His prized possession? Spoils of theft? I suppose those aren't mutually exclusive states of being.

When I got to the Venetian, I saw the gnomes. OK, that's the image that came to my head, but it was the workers who came out, cleaning the street, working on touching up the front of the hotel. They were all in blue coveralls, and probably 90% Hispanic, and I knew their jobs were to disappear before the tourists would normally appear on the streets.

I experienced another surreal moment as well. I was running south, so the sun was rising to my left as I ran. Once I made it to the main Strip however, I nearly didn't see the sun; it was instead eclipsed by the Venetian, the Wynn, etc., as I made my way down an artificial canyon of artificial places. Then suddenly, the world reversed; the light and heat of the rising sun came from right, as if the world had shifted around me, or hours had passed and the sun was now setting, that golden light one can only find in the afternoon illuminating the now cleaned sidewalk before me. Then I realized it was only a reflection of the real sun, bouncing off the Trump Hotel at least half a mile from me, but projecting as if it were our own star. In but a moment, maybe a few dozen meters later, the world reverted to rightness and I left that glare. When I blinked though, the reflected sun still showed in negative in the phosphenes in my closed eye, a temporary burn on my retina.

There was one more group out there as I ran as well; the other runners. We nodded in camaraderie as we traveled through this great and terrible landscape, almost alien in our own way moving through, yet part of the surroundings which made for Vegas in the morning. Each of us was seeing the city in a way others would not. Each of us sharing an intimate glimpse behind the curtain of Vegas' wizard.

I love seeing new places this way. As I write this I am sitting in the Atlanta airport, delayed in a trip to Norfolk, Virginia. I hope the delay doesn't stop me from getting up in the morning, the one morning I will be here this week, and getting in just a couple miles, just a quick glance behind the curtains of this city as well. I will let you know...

TIME PASSES

Well, here it is, the next day, and after one of the most hellacious travel sessions I have ever had the misfortune to endure, I finally actually arrived at Fort Monroe, just across Chesapeake Bay from Norfolk. Didn't get to bed until midnight, but I knew I would be angry with myself if I didn't get up and make the effort. So, 6AM, sure enough I was up at at it.

I am so glad I did. Beautiful run through historic buildings, and a great traffic free path along the ocean. This West Coaster saw his first sunRISE over the ocean. Saw the seagulls and had a great run. Also ran around the historic moat in the middle of the Fort and stormed the battlements. Fixed everything wrong with the day before, and set the tone for the rest of the day. I mean, look at this!