Concrete Jungle

While visiting my father in Rochester, NY, I have gone for a couple of little runs. The first was a very short one on my first morning here, then yesterday I went for a bit longer. Even longer than I'd meant to.

I do prefer to run on trails and in parks, etc., and am used to running in the woods where dangerous wildlife life and can be seen, but most of them prefer not to be seen, and will hide when they sense my approach. The city is a much different experience. My father lives in the suburb of Irondequoit, an area of manicured lawns and lush flora. However, only blocks away the scenery changes dramatically.

I chose to run from the house instead of driving to a park, in order to save time. My father showed me a route on the map that would be about 5 miles. I thought I knew where I was going, but I didn't realize that Clifford turns into Empire. Because I was looking for Empire, I missed my turn and just kept running, right into the city.

The neighborhoods were quickly going downhill (boarded up windows, lack of lawns, etc.) but I kept expecting to run into Empire, continuing on, thinking it would be the next light or the next...I saw some young black men standing on the street corner and figured the best thing to do would be to confidently run right by them, but I startled one of them so badly when I came up behind him he said "whoa girl, I almost started running myself."

Soon I saw signs for "Marketview" and "Beechwood," neighborhoods I'd read about in the paper before, usually in some story about a shooting or something equally unpleasant, and I knew I was definitely in the wrong place. So I asked a young woman who was walking down the street if she knew where Empire was, and she had no clue. It was time to turn around. Finally, I saw some white people out on a corner, selling the Sunday paper. I asked them for directions and they sent me on my way.

It is an unsettling feeling being the minority in another culture. The people I saw were not used to seeing a little white woman jogging through their neighborhood. It was a good thing it was Sunday morning, I suppose. As I ran back to my father's house, I noticed the neat, mowed lawns, then realized I was noticing lawns, not just mowed. It was really strange to me to see how much the neighborhoods changed in such a short distance. There is a line there, between cultures, and I had crossed it, but most people here usually don't.

So everything turned out fine, and I ended up going for a 6-7 mile run instead of the 5 miler I'd intended, but I am still bothered by the contrast that I saw, the disparity between these two cultures that exist side by side but never mix, the wealth next to the poverty, and the huge difference between this place and where I live.