A Tale of Two Cities: It Was the Best of Trails, It Was the Worst of Trails

I usually run on Jemison Trail in Mountain Brook. I know I should be running in Highland Park, where I live, since driving to and from the trail takes time (20 minutes, roundtrip) and gas. Believe me, I feel guilty. But I'm not changing anytime soon.

My own neighborhood is full of hazards: Huge cracks in the sidewalks as tall as a stray cat (which, by the way, are everywhere). Homeless people who yell at me in the morning (in their defense, they've never been especially rude and they're not asking for money, but I still don't like being yelled to at sunrise). Plus, there's a complicated parks system that I've never been able to decode. One park is known for the men who sit outside waiting to be propositioned for gay sex. Another is dedicated to dogs and their owners. (Honestly, this frightens me more than the first one, as I'm never quite sure how to behave around dogs.) As far as I know, the other parks don't have distinctions, but I can't really be sure ... what if I unknowingly ran through Clown College Park? Or, worse, Hipster Park (littered with PBR cans and cigarette butts ... oh, wait, that's the whole neighborhood).

Please don't misunderstand. I do love my neighborhood. But the things I like are the same reasons I feel self-conscious running here. I know lots of my neighbors, which is awesome when you want to borrow a cup of sugar (or use someone's internet, which is way more likely), but kind of embarrassing when you're red-faced and just tripped over a sidewalk crack. Rojo is great when you're craving a black bean burger, but running by the patio clad in Nike Tempo shorts and an old M*A*S*H t-shirt doesn't sound as delicious.

So far, I've chosen the easy comfort of Mountain Brook, with its clock towers, illusion of safety, and friendly runners who rarely skip a cheerful "good morning," even in the middle of a run. I'll admit, I get yelled at by the Brookies, too, but I find cries of "Hey, Starbucks Girl!" (from former customers) strangely comforting.

In the end, I do plan to start running in my own neighborhood, and I'm sure I'll find things to love about sticking close to home. But, for a couple weeks anyway, I'm happy to cling to my false security, as long as it keeps me running.