Apparently Nike thinks my "perfect run" is perfect

I participate in a number of product and running related surveys for Nike, and they recently asked me to describe my "perfect run." This is actually a blend of 3 or 4 actual real runs combined into a single perfect one. Nike asked me to make this into basically a video essay, which I'm pretty excited about. And if it is good enough for Nike, it is good enough for my blog.

My perfect run... in a European city I've never been to before. My purpose is to explore and intentionally get lost. As quick as I can I first head towards some sort of park, or walking trails, or castles, monuments, or vistas.  Doesn't really matter. I just point myself in the general direction away from the city and just go.  Eventually the crowds thin out and I know I'm going the right way. There are still people around, but few other runners- mostly really only tourists snapping pictures, and none of the people I come across are accustomed to seeing many runners, especially not a girl running.

I'll run along a river, until I come upon a massive set of steps. Naturally, I do what anybody in my situation would do and join a team of soccer players, young tanned men with their shirts off, sweat glistening in the sun, huffing and puffing up the same steps for their workout.  I try to make like I'm not breathing heavy and just sort of effortlessly keep on running past them, smiling, when they stop at the top of the stairs and watch me go by, and I know slightly stunned to see a girl so... sweaty... who also just dared to race them up the steps and then continued running.

At the top of the steps and down a little valley a ways away is a wooded park area- there are groomed dirt trails along the perimeter, but soon I notice blazed trails ("guidelines" really).  Splotchy blue targets spray painted on trees, aiming you in a general direction to run. I hop over creeks, tree-logs, mud puddles, and within minutes my calves are caked with mud and they sting a little from the scrapes of unavoidable blackberry bush thorns. I know if I keep veering to the right, I'll come out the other side of the woods and *should* be able to get back to the city. But I don't want to turn around yet because I'm curious about what is on the other side, so I keep going--maybe I'll hit cobblestone, or an old abandoned area covered in vines and crumbling stone buildings.

Eventually I glance at my watch, and wouldn't you know it, I've already been running for almost as long as the total elapsed time I was planning on running - and I still have to find my way back to the hotel, not to mention actually get there. I snap out of the discovery mode and start travel adventure mode-breakfast at the hotel is about to close, and we have a travel connection to make that day.  I'm also brushing up against the maximum limits that I can squeeze out of my non-runner travel buddy waiting for me, who already so graciously accommodates my running habit. So that means if I turned around 5 minutes ago-- with my quick mental time zone adjustment for watch time versus real time--I'm supposed to be back...now... so I start to RUN. Back to the river, towards town, towards another bridge or monument or distinctly decorated building, or an old statue I captured in a mental note on the outbound journey.  But wait, did I see that old bronze guy already or was that a different statue? Each time I spot something I think I recognize, I run faster... but I'm already late, so no time to slow down and I can't afford to doubt my sometimes-spot-on but occasionally-its-a-miss sense of direction.

Plus, I'm thirsty-the sun starts to bake.  I'm running now on old stone sidewalks with gorgeous low buildings, but little shade. Despite the hat & sunglasses, the sweat mixed with sunscreen stings my eyes, and I worry that my shoulders are burning because I've been outside so long. And I'm hungry too... but then suddenly I know exactly where I am... and my hotel is right there.

I share the elevator ride upstairs with a group of tourists speaking in hushed tones in a language I don't understand, whose eyes all follow me when I get off the elevator on my floor. I dig my room key out of the little pocket in my running shorts, and untie my shoelaces to avoid tracking excessive mud inside my hotel room- I already pity the housekeeper who finds these running remnants- but I'm not quite sure what to do about the layer of mud firmly adhered to my calves through multiple layers of sweat and dirt. Just imagine my fellow hotel guests- shocked- they came to see old European Cathedrals, and instead I subject them to an elevator ride fresh with miles (or kilometers, rather) of exploration, adventure, and the most-effective free sightseeing tour you'll never find in any Lonely Planet guide. They'll scratch their heads... "did you SEE that crazy American runner girl? Who could imagine going out to run, just for fun like that! And covered in all that mud and sweat? So un-lady like..."