Today, I ran

Yes, this is worthy of a post.  It was the first time I went running in longer than I care to admit.  Not because of laziness, but because girls don't really run here, and I didn't bring running shoes.  When carrying your entire life around in a bag for 3 months, packing light is a must.  Running shoes take up too much space, and sticking out as an American was not appealing.  I didn't even bring my iPod, because it will probably break (going on 6 years old, still in black and white Chicago font) so it would just be dead weight.

So today I ran.  Thank goodness for roommates, because Francesca brought her running shoes and I could wear them.  It finally warmed up and needed to clear my mind (and my body of the FANTASTIC tiramisu from last night.  Pompi by Re di Roma claims to be il regno di tiramisu.  I concur).  I chatted with Daniella before I left.  Like most Italians, she thought it was odd I was just going to run around the streets, and looked at me like I was crazy when I told her my plan to run over to the Parco degli Scipioni and the baths of Caracalla and back to Furio Camillo.

The moment I walked outside it started to rain, but I knew it was now or never and took off.  Immediately the stares began.  I was definitely la brutta figura in my shorts, long-sleeved t-shirt, and tennis shoes.  I have never worn any of these items outside since I've been in Italy.  Men stared, old women averted their eyes.  As I ran by a coffee bar, the chatting old men stopped to scrutinize over their cappuccini and cornetti.
For the first time, I didn't care.  I'm very proud of the U.S. lately (not because of current events, just because I miss it) so sticking out was not as horrific a concept as usual.

Running in Italy is not a chore.  I prefer to think of it as faster tourism - see more in less time.  I ran through the Porta Latina, which was an ancient gateway to the city.  If I tried that 2 thousand years ago I probably would not have made it back.  Crumbling brick walls covered in ivy, umbrella pines dotting the streets, slick cobblestones beneath my feet (very concerned about falling).  Exhaustion was held at bay by the impressive and empty parks that became my personal track.  The leaves are changing and Autumn is definitely in the air.  Bellissima. The rain slowed to occasional refreshing droplets.

I'm not sure what grabbed my attention first - the strong smell of incense of the haunting voices of half a dozen chanting priests, but I followed my senses and ended up in front of San Giovanni a Porta Latina.  I peaked into the doorway, since a sweaty and scantily clad girl might alarm everyone at their All Saints Day mass.  Another  of the beautiful little churches in Rome I just came across by chance.  It is believed to be the spot St. John survived immersion into a vat of boiling oil.  Hmph.
I continued down a road between two high walls with no sidewalk, so I probably pissed off some drivers.  Eventually I popped out at Piazzale Numa Pompilio, ran up the the Baths of Caracalla to say 'ciao,' and turned around.  It still blows my mind that I can just go to these ancient places, whenever it strikes my fancy.
On the way back I decided to get creative (aka I was tired and tried to take a short cut.  It didn't work.) and found some fun new places to explore in my neighborhood.  The street sellers were just setting up their stalls after sleeping in for the All Saints Day holiday.

Probably won't be able to walk tomorrow, but I don't care.