OK… we’ve covered Berlin (49km of it)… what next?
Why, Santa
Margherita Ligure (GE), Italy!
Santa Margherita Ligure is where I grew up, the
result of a holiday romance which is still going strong some forty-one years
after the lovebirds married. It’s amazing how strong relationships between a
couple who are not entirely fluent in each other’s mothertongue can be… I’m
telling you, that’s the best foundation I’ve come across! Anyroad, Santa
Margherita…
…is not as well knows as the neighbouring town of
Portofino, especially amongst foreign tourists. Which is a tad harsh, what with
Portofino just being
totally over-rated for what it truly is… if anything, get on a ferry or hike
across to go and see San
Fruttuoso, there’s true beauty for you!
All that said, Portofino is not an ugly sight. And
the coastal road linking it to Santa Margherita makes for a really nice running
route – and a far safer one now than when I first ran along it back in the
1980s, next to my Dad…
…to be honest, that wasn’t a particularly enjoyable
experience. As you know, I can’t stand running – and I cared for it even less
back then. Looking back, I’m not surprised: most people turn to running after
trying their hands at proper sports in which you keep the score, such as
tennis, football, golf and the like. Running is what you do when you have kids
and work constraining your flexibility to make “the Wednesday session” or “the
Friday match”: it’s what you do when you need to go out as and when you can.
So, when my Dad was training for any one of his three marathons, I had little
enthusiasm to join him. He never pushed me on pace, never reprimanded me, but
he was keen for me to share in his passion. I just couldn’t be arsed.
So when I headed back to Santa (see – the name gets
shorter with every mention!) in October, it was about exorcising as much as it
was about exercising. It was about treading that same tarmac but with something
almost resembling tolerance across my face. It was also about seeing how much
running I could get done whilst on holiday with all the diplomatic commitments
that I must honour when back in Santa, not to mention wife (one) and kids
(two). I had high hopes of keeping runstreak going, as a solitary mile is
sufficient… but as for any reasonable exercise, I wasn’t particularly
optimistic…
…whereas, as it turns out, over the seven days we
were over there I ended up clocking 75.6km. As with Berlin, each and every one
of those was flat! My Dad was eager to suggest hillier routes, but I was not in
listening mode. Not because animated by the same contrary spirit I displayed when
turning down offers to run with him all those years ago but because I genuinely
wanted to practice some flat running! Much as I appreciate the added value that
comes from training in a hilly environment, it is of little guidance to the
pace I can realistically target on the flat. So whilst an 8k run on Tuesday 30
was not, in itself, a great feat, I felt good about completing it at a pace of 5’21”/km.
On those roads I know so well… from my parent’s house through via XXV Aprile,
across the road to the Giardini, along the coast through Corte and then past
the Miramare and Regina Helena hotels, past the Covo, through the delightful
area of Paraggi, round the bend and through to Portofino… and back. Not a bad
way to clock 12.5km!
It felt really good to exorcise and exercise. It
felt good to record some decent times. And, trust me, it felt particularly good
on November 2 to take this sunrise shot in Paraggi:
And yes, the runstreak was kept alive, thank you
very much! Even on the day we landed back in the UK, when it was saved by a
chippierun: when all else fails, run to the chippie and back! But, if you get
the chance to run alongside the Mediterranean coastline… grab it, my son.
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