The Micro Cultures of Dallas, Through the Lense of a Runner
It’s 6:00 am on an early brisk Saturday morning and the sun has yet to greet this part of the world. I am at the peak of my training for an upcoming marathon. My legs are tired and heavy. Every ache attempts to promote itself to another injury. I am setting out for one of my longest runs of the training block, the ever intimidating 20-miler.
My run begins with a three-mile stretch, mostly uphill. I convince myself this is the warm-up I need. The one that will make the rest of the route feel easy. I dash between patches of light and dark. The moon highlights the unprotected areas of earth, and the sun begins to pierce through the buildings and trees.
Northwest Highway is pleasantly quiet. The pitter patter of my feet echo along the adjacent trail as it waits for the world to wake. I narrowly escaped the smell of breakfast coming from the fire station that I previously mistook for a restaurant. If I had passed by any later, I would have found myself surrounded by a delicious smell that would linger in the back of my mind for the rest of the run.
I reach I-75 as it lay empty, still relaxing from the yesterday evening’s crowd and preparing for the upcoming rush. The reward for crossing this intimidating highway is the spiritual greeting of Southern Methodist University. A row of perfectly aligned trees guides me along SMU Boulevard to the front of the Student Services Building. To my left lays a vacant soccer field longing to be used. As I reach the Student Services Building and loop around the area, the Georgian style buildings stand proud, looking over me while the occasional professor, or so I assume, scatters in and out of view.
As I begin my stretch along Bishop Boulevard and its perfectly manicured lawn, I find peace. It is quiet when I pass through but displays hints of past and future events. The leftover debris in the tailgate areas and the warn appearance of tables and chairs give indications of a good time and good times to be had.
A few blocks of clean, well kept, homes in the neighborhood south of SMU provides a quaint transition between SMU and Uptown, reminding me that the day has not yet arrived for many. I rarely see signs of life in this area outside of the occasional car passing by, but the homes and lawns in which they sit are always pristine.
The lifeless tone changes quickly as I enter Uptown and engulf myself in its early morning energy. Solo walkers, groups of walkers, walkers with dogs, joggers of all shapes, sizes, and goals increasingly fill the area as I pass through the heart of the area. The smell of breakfast being prepared in the adjacent apartment complexes grabs my attention.
The Katy Trail funnels me into Downtown Dallas where I am greeted by the American Airlines Center. This is where the trail stops, and my run continues on dormant streets. Once again, I am reminded that the day is still early. Businesses have yet to open, many will remain closed for the day. There is rarely a moving car, creating an eerie feeling as I have the three- and four-laned streets all to myself. The only signs of life are the countless rows of stoplights shifting between green, yellow, and red. There are no designated lanes for jogging or cycling, and many sidewalks are not conducive to either activity. The frequent misalignment of concrete segments, utility interruptions, and vehicular signage puts vehicles before pedestrians. These obstacles render this area difficult, and sometimes dangerous, for most joggers and cyclists any time other than the early morning hours of a weekend.
A short break in the deserted Arts District is quite the reward for my early morning adventure. Another pause at Klyde Warren Park is a must as I get one last peaceful moment as the city awakens.
After passing through the remaining blocks of Downtown, I cross under the I-75 gateway that leads to Deep Ellum. At this point, I feel as if I am running faster than any other part of my route. My senses reset. The scale is smaller than the high-rise structures of Downtown and the vastly spaced buildings and green areas of my earlier route. The curbside dumpsters outside of every business wait to be taken away. The odor of alcohol sprawls proudly. Broken glass clinks as it is swept by an employee on the other side of the street. For such an abandoned area, there is so much life. The buildings are full of character and so many secrets. I can always count on seeing something different each time I pass through here and it feels as if my time here was not long enough.
I hop on the Santa Fe Trail which leads me to White Rock Lake. This is my least favorite segment of the route. Not only are my legs starting to wear down, but there is very little between Deep Ellum and White Rock Lake. It feels like an endless back alley as everything in sight has turned its back on the trail.
By the time I reach White Rock Lake, the day is fully awake and so is the community. The level of activity matches that of Katy Trail in Uptown, but with a natural backdrop of trees and water in-leu of apartment buildings separated by only a thin layer of vegetation. What I enjoy most about the lake is the strong presence of animal life. Countless birds cheer me on, geese watch from a distance, squirrels long for attention, and oblivious nutrias all make for an entertaining final segment of my run. Sailboats in the distance replace the last 16 miles of parked cars. The cars that I do spot in the small parking lots along the lake shine with pride as their owner is sure to be on the trail. The soothing area is a symbolic metaphor to my cool down.
