As a teenager on a French volunteer camp one summer I befriended an American named Andrew. He impressed me with a story of how as a member of the Arizona state college cross-country team he would rise daily before 5am to jog across the desert. This inspired me to do the same after a summer of inactivity and self-abuse in which tennis with friends used to mean a beer at the bar even before the allotted hour had run out. The sweaty choking fiasco which inevitably followed my attempt to recreate Andrew’s heroics will be familiar to most people who’ve tried to get back in shape. Thankfully I’d never experienced anything like that since – until I came to Mexico City.
For various reasons Mexico City is a terrible place to go running but the main one is that it is 2,200 metres above sea level. At first the altitude makes even basic trips to the shops tiring and I sometimes emerge from the shower gasping for breath. Handily I was recovering from an ankle injury when I got here meaning I had to jog incredibly slowly anyway. But as time has gone on and I’ve got more confident the dreaded band round the lungs re-appeared. A student of mine who worked in Panama for a while tells me that the short term euphoria of running when back at sea level will make this all worth it, even if I’m back to square one when back in the city.
Additionally the city is one of the most polluted in the world. The quantity of emissions is made worse by the city being surrounded by mountains which creates a giant basin where the air can quickly become stagnant. In London I used to occasionally look at those coloured maps that show you the parts, like City Road, where never to run – I don’t dare here. I suspect it’s all red. There’s a lovely park, Chapultepec, but getting there is a journey in itself. All this for some endorphins!
Smooth running is also hampered by the user-unfriendliness of traffic and general road layout. One of my first attempts, to get to what looked on the ma like a pleasant green space about 2km away, resulted in a trek over a massive bypass and then a convoluted pedestrian bridge. Once I made it there the park was underwhelming and the only other jogger I saw was a huge rat. Even the simplest A-B run will at some point have you waiting impatiently, unable to cross the road while 500 cars to go past (I can’t do that run-on-the-spot thing at lights).
Despite all this I’ve managed to make it work following the general rule of Mexico City: keep it simple. Pick a destination that’s half the distance you want to run, down a single road. Run there, and run back, slowly. I live in a decent area called Navarte where even the quieter residential blocks have shops, small restaurants, markets and other services integrated within them, so there’s always something to see. The city’s grid system is also great for developing a sense of mastery, as you’ll cross long roads that you passed on different days in a different neighbourhood, promoting that sense of recognition and connectedness. And as you approach other pedestrians from a distance many will make great efforts to clear the path for your benefit with a smile – even on a quick jog the Mexican spirit of brotherliness is evident.
Prickly Pears 