People Walk

Disclaimer:  This post has nothing to do with my current situation or farming.  It is an advertisement for an activity that is better than whatever you normally do on Saturday morning, with no exceptions or qualifications.

When I lived in Italy, I regularly participated in a Sunday morning activity that involved running with friends, exploring the country-side, enjoying food and talking to locals.  That activity was known as a 'marcia' in Italy and a 'volksmarch' in Germany.  Wikipedia has a short entry about it that doesn't do it justice.  Let me try to explain it...

You wake up at 0730 and get your running clothes on because you are planning on running one of three distances (7km, 13km or 21km).  You could walk those distances like most of the locals do, but you're prepping for a half-marathon and this is the best training regimen in existence.  There are three reasons for this.  1.  You're passing people right and left which builds your confidence.  2.  You're running what amounts to a cross-country course which builds core stability.  3.  You're running the same distance as you will on race day (or if you choose, 1/3 or 3/5 distance).

You get in your car and drive about 20 minutes to an outlying town nestled in the foothills of the Dolomites.  As you get close to the town you start seeing an unusual number of cars all heading the same direction as you.  Once you reach the town, you are directed to a field where hundreds of cars are parked in the grass and middle-aged men are changing into running clothes with no shame.  You ignore this and park your car, do a little stretching and follow the crowd to the town center where local businesses have set up booths to sell food and wine and local produce.  You pay 2 euro for a paper checkpoint ticket and head out.

The course is dotted with people (mostly old folks, but lots of young families and runners like you) that you pass throughout the run.  At two points you have the option to shorten your run by turning at the 7km sign or the 13km sign.  You continue on because a half-marathon every Sunday is pretty easy.  At three points during your run, the town has set up refreshment stations (this is what your 2 euro bought you, aside from the great atmosphere) with water, tea, juice, crackers and fruit that you can use to rehydrate and get some sugar in your system.  You pull out your checkpoint ticket to get it stamped and prove that you ran the full 21km course.

Throughout the course you are running up and down mountain paths, back-country roads and easements between farmers' fields.  You see beautiful homes, amazing vistas and interesting plants (but not a lot of animals).  Depending on the town that sponsored the run that morning, you could climb anywhere between 100 and 1000 vertical feet.  Depending on the time of year, the air will be clear enough that you can see 40 miles away to the Italian coast.  

While running you see a number of people that seem faintly familiar, probably because of the hard-core group of runners that come out to every Sunday morning volksmarch within a 40 mile radius.  Most of them seem to know each other.  

As you pass kilometer marker 19 and appreciate the fact that you only have two more kilometers to go, you see familiar landmarks like the town bell tower and the road you drove to get here and a large number of people as the three distance paths converge to the end point.  You are feeling even better about yourself at this point because you are passing dozens of people every hundred feet.  You enjoy blowing past the 80 year old walker and his wife (they are such jerks) as you sprint to the finish line (which isn't really a finish line since it's not a race).  

More snacks and drinks are waiting at the town center and the announcer is shouting gibberish (Italian) at people coming in.  Music is usually playing and everyone is enjoying the endorphins from the strenuous exercise.  

After recovering for a bit, you head back to your car and drive home, and it's only 1030.  "How many half-marathons are THAT cheap and fun?" you ask yourself.  "None," you reply to yourself, and subsequently wonder if you shouldn't see a therapist about the conversations you hold in your head.

That is the scenario that played out over two years of my life in Italy.  I wouldn't trade it for the world.  That's why I am going to implement this outstanding activity in the Nashville area in 2011.  There are enough hipsters and young families and old people to make it work, and if you have those three demographics, you can accomplish anything.  So stay tuned and if you want to help me with this and you live in Nashville, comment on this post and I'll give you a call to explain my vision.

New experiences in the last month (I know, I've been slacking on this blog)

1. Ate a dragon fruit grown on the farm. (Tastes like kiwi)

2. Ate a plantain grown on the farm. (Tastes like plantain)

3. Saw a fellow intern eat ant eggs like they were candy.  (Have no desire to know what that tasted like)

4. Made blueberry ice cream. (As usual, delicious)