“We run, not because we think it is doing us good, but because we enjoy it and cannot help ourselves.”
-Roger Bannister
Good morning,
People of the First Light. I’d like to thank jet lag, jet lag, and jet lag for the early present of Boston all to myself on a Christmas eve morning.
I didn’t expect to be composing this blog entry at such an ungodly hour, but I’m afraid that a terrific mix of excitement and persistent jet lag has got me going to bed at midnight and waking up at 4:30am. Nice.
Finding myself awake so early on this particular day makes me think that I’ve truly regressed; back when I was little, we were only allowed to open our stockings first thing in the morning on Christmas day. What would happen is that we kids would somehow wake up in the dark blue of Christmas morning, recognize that
technically it was the 25th of December and then run downstairs to experience the most amazing scene ever: a beautiful tree overflowing with gifts à la
A Christmas Story. We’d admire the view, open up stockings that were long ago knitted by my mum, and then we’d head back to bed for a few more hours of shut eye. That’s how Christmas would always begin.
So up here in Boston, I’m waking up early and am just too damn excited to lie in bed when I know that there’s a stocking of nostalgia just waiting to be discovered just downstairs. The weather.com website tells me that the temperature is currently 25 degrees Fahrenheit, but this decidedly un-Senegalese temperature offers no reason for pause as I rifle through my suitcase to locate cold weather running gear.
My descent into the modest beginnings of December 24th have yielded spectacular scenes of a fresh and quiet day. My friend Jessica has a
great running blog– and she recently posted about how running is really a gift to yourself. I couldn’t have said it better, and as I stepped outdoors and ventured out into this morning sunrise, I felt absolutely electric. Kinda like how I used to feel as a little kid on Christmas morning. It’s reassuring to know that this sense of wonder isn’t forever lost once you grow out of the innocence of childhood.
And speaking of childhood- this guy here is emblematic of not just my own formative years. I can assure you that many others also experience an internal loop of the 1980s Boston Science Museum commercials each time they pass this spot. It’s fun to find out what it’s really like in s space…It’s fun to find out what makes an ocean wave wave…
I didn’t have a concrete route in mind when I walked outside of my sister’s building. At first I was gonna just do a simple Charles River Loop- but I quickly lost the feeling my fingers as I started up the river. I’m not completely hardened to the New England winter after living in Africa for two years, so I opted to cross over Storrow Drive after giving a nod to the Pru and checking out this fantastic set of hibernating water craft.
I don’t know why I love photographing manhole covers, but they seem to be one of my favorite markers of each city I visit.
And I also love the fire stations- particularly because they make me feel closer to my favorite oldest sister who also happens to be a firefight paramedic not too far from here. She makes me so proud, and I always smile when I see something like this.
Behold the Old West Church on Cambridge Street, built in 1806. Of course you are all familiar with the
Old North Church, located not too far from this spot in the North End. This here church was originally erected in 1737, but its steeple was torn down by the British to prevent signaling during the Seige of Boston in 1776. I guess
that didn’t work out so well…
Moving into the 20th century, I take a left and allow my body to yield to the magnetic pull of my personal favorite downtown structures.
We’re getting closer. Here is McGann’s pub, located just off Causeway Street. Not only did the departed owner of this pub own a place in my hometown, but I was just at the other location in Doolin just a few weeks ago. No, really!
Here it is- just a few blocks away from the Cliffs of Moher. Thank you for indulging my brief return to the mother land. We’ll now warp back to The Hub.
Okay, back in 25 degree temps. I continue down Causeway Street so I can pay a call to Robert G. Orr. Boston is pretty much deserted on this morning, but I do manage to intercept the only lady walking around and get her to take my photo. I think she thought that I was a little nuts.
Yes, I know that the Garden is talking about the just-about-to-commence NBA season, but I’d like to think that this great poster of Paul Pierce was slapped up on the side of the Garden just for me.
I move south and over what is now the finishing aesthetic touches of The Big Dig. Linking up with a few hundred meters of the Freedom Trail, I can feel the city starting to wake up. Here at Haymarket you now have remnants of each day’s sale immortalized into the street as art. Clever and unexpected, I love discovering new things about a place that you think you know pretty well.
And speaking of a places I know pretty well. I descend upon Fannel Hall and give a nod to the weather vane. (And for those of you itching to raise your hand and get my intention, please know that my spelling in the preceding sentence was deliberate.)
Quincy Market is dead. No tourists, no nobody. I’ve got downtown all to myself.
Since I already visited Bobby, I figured that I should come over and check in on Red. I didn’t find anyone around to take my photo- which is just as well because I don’t want my ass to freeze to this bench. My fingers might be getting frostbite and one look at the coach makes me think that I too will be welded to this seat should I choose to sit down in these “feels like 17°” temps.
How fitting is this? I’m not as fast as Boston Billy, but I’m excited to spy this plaque located next to Red. I had forgotten that this was here. Again, never stop exploring- or running wicked fast- as the case may be.
Moving on, I next jut over into the North End for a quick look around. I’m dying for some biscotti from Mike’s Pastry, but I don’t have enough room to carry my camera and a bag of amazing chocolate dipped delights while out on my run. That said, I do love this store- but not only because of the great name. It also used to have a photo-shopped image of Saddam Hussein wearing a Yankees ball cap in the front window. Ahh Boston fans…we really are complete a-holes. I love it.
It’s 7:30am and Modern Pastry already has a bunch of folks queuing up in search of amazing food for their Christmas Eve feasts. I hate to leave the North End without picking up so much as a cannoli, but I promise myself that I’ll return soon in clothing that does not consist of so much body-hugging lycra.
You probably had no idea that I was a Bruins fan. Sometimes it’s hard to believe in my beloved black and gold team, but you can bet your ass that I believe in this city.
It’s time to head back inside, lest I find myself as frozen as the ice located just next to the Zakim bridge. Morning is now in full swing and I’ve got a great day of hometown activities laid out just ahead of me.
I know that I love to drone on and on about running, but at this stage in the game I can think of no better way to start out a day that promises to be packed with enjoyable on-the-go havoc. Particularly when I find myself back in the cradle of the Commonwealth, I find that running offers a morning meditation that puts me in an unbeatable frame of mind for the duration of the day. Christmas leave can get crazy, and it’s easy to find myself rushing from place to place as I attempt to see, eat and feel every trace of home that I miss so much while I am away. It’s important to take some personal time out and give yourself mornings like this one. For us adults, it’s the closest that we’ll ever get to capturing how we once felt when digging into that overstuffed Christmas stocking.
And with that said, I’m going to go back to bed for a little bit before all the major festivities kick in. Thanks as always for letting me share what I love with you all.
