Running through the streets of Rome

The cobblestoned streets of Rome took me back to when gladiators reigned.

As I sprinted past an Italian bistro along the Circus Maximus, I watched a couple indulge in a plate of pasta with a glass of red wine. I felt my mouth water and my resolve waver a little, wondering whether I should stop for a cold beer; it sounded so enticing when you’re running at 40 degrees. I quickly remembered my goal; to run 10km. I was determined to achieve this as this would have been the longest I’d ever run in a city outside of the UAE. It would be an achievement I could check off my list. It would also give me the will to complete the Women’s Run in October, a goal I’ve wanted to reach for years now.

3k

I came to a screeching halt at an intersection as I watched the pedestrian signal turn red. Roman streets were quite narrow, and it took me some time to gauge whether the street was wide enough to have a pedestrian crossing. I’d crossed it when it was red multiple times, not realising that narrow alleyways could also have traffic lights. The only streets in Dubai that had traffic lights were more than two lanes wide.

5km

At first, the cobblestoned streets took some getting used to; I felt my heel ache a little against the hard stone wondering how many centuries of footfall it had endured, still surprisingly intact; and whether Roman gladiators walked these streets, their spears high up in the air, ready for combat. How incredible was it that my feet grazed the same streets that was once possibly touched by Roman emperors in mid-battle? What an exciting thought. My mind wandered off briefly as I imagined them running beside me, clad in armour and their spears high up in the air.

My surrealistic thoughts were interrupted by a guitar playing in the near distance. A musician gently belted out Despacito on a guitar while a crowd cheered him on. I slowed down to a jog as I crossed the bridge over the Tiber River, the slope being a little steep. I enjoy the challenge of climbing slopes; it built up my resistance further.

I checked my phone. 3km to go.

My knees were slowly starting to give out but I told myself that I could easily cross 3 more kms since I had already done 7km’s. This was a lot harder than my runs in Dubai. I’d have easily completed 10km, but Rome was a city built on varying levels that takes some getting used to, especially for a relatively amateur runner.

I crossed the bridge and was suddenly conscious of the shadow of a massive dome looming ahead of me; consuming the sea of people who’d gathered in front of it — St. Peter’s Basilica. I remembered sketching it repeatedly until my history professors deemed it acceptable in architecture school, the memory still fresh in my mind. I advanced toward the colonnade on the left, teeming with tourists spilling out along the edges. I’d resorted to a mere jog now, allowing myself to absorb the undeniable grandeur of this Roman masterpiece.

I reached the entrance of the Basilica and looked up at the balcony at which the Pope stands when he gets elected; and bumped into a Chinese tourist I hadn’t noticed during my moment of awe. I muttered a quick apology and trudged along, walking slowly now, to give myself a break. I glanced at my fitness tracker and noticed that I’d completed 11km, one km over my goal. I did a quick dance, overjoyed at completing my goal of the day.

Perhaps being inspired by the environment you run in makes you forget your goal. This is why I run — to be inspired and to forget.

I couldn’t wait to get home and recount my journey in a post and truly immortalise it. I’m headed next to France, and I expect to complete 15km there. I expect the whimsical romance of the city to truly keep me on my feet.