Josie's Mug
Self-consciousness peels away by the pendulum swing of my arms, the steady dance of my feet against the earth, the song of the short-short-long breathing patterns flowing in and out my nose. Not even the wind folding back the curtain of my bangs in a less-than-flattering middle part can make me feel self-aware.
This is what happens when I run.
Traveling alone can yield opposite results.
Instead of lightly sailing through throngs of molasses-movers towing massive suitcases, I find myself lining up behind them, my own pack keeping me committed to a slow shuffle. I’m hyper-aware of seemingly everything; scouring every information sign and craning to hear every loudspeaker announcement.
The fear of missing something important is most likely quite palpable on my face, my gigantic metaphorical poster board reading, “FOREIGNER! She’s alone!” fastened firmly on my back for all to see.
Being aware of these emotions, I took some preventative measures when I traveled to Salzburg, Austria: namely to marry the definite feelings of exhilaration I get from running to the unpredictability of traveling alone.
To inject the feeling of fearlessness into my insecurities.
Why would you ruin a magical journey to the land of the Sound of Music with…exercise?!
Well, dear friend, I can tell you right now that it was what made the weekend so grand.
Marching in and out of local shops, reading in quaint local cafes, buddying up with other backpackers in hostels…all of these things are great, but the run is what declared it an adventure.
Suddenly I became unstoppable.
Running through Salzburg was an excellent way to see the city; cheaper than a walking tour and much more efficient.
I hit the three most stunning Salzburg parks, the Altstadt city centre, the Friday afternoon marketplaces, the fortress looming over Salzburg, the mountains lacing the edge of the city.
I found a capital vegan joint for the night’s dinner, a magical Creperie for morning breakfast, shops that I would like to revisit with a wallet, and sections of the city I wouldn’t care to go back to. All in 2 hours.
That saved me meandering around in the nippy January air for several hours, undoubtedly racing the sun (big shout out to daylight savings for the 4:50 p.m. sunset), perhaps getting lost on my shuffle back to the hostel in the dark.
Running made me feel like I belonged. Like a local.
Other runners would nod to me and I would flash my customary peace sign in return, respect palpable as we passed each other in the frosty afternoon. I felt connected to the city in a way that being a tourist wouldn’t allow.
The post-run food became a sensual experience.
The after-run shower felt like God’s gift to humanity.
Nestling under the hostel starched-sheets with the post-exercised body still humming with exertion was the equivalent of staying in a “highly recommended” TripAdvisor hotel.
My constant advice to any ambitious solo-traveler is to go for a good run.
However. If running isn’t something that makes you fearless… If running isn’t something that yields exhilaration… If running isn’t something that sparks appreciation…
There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Honor the fact that we are all unfathomably complex and intricate creatures, that we are individuals. No experience has ever been truly repeatable.
Ultimately. What makes you fearless? What makes you peel away self-awareness? What makes you feel unstoppable?
Use it.