Running Tourist

  When I decided to take up running at age 40, I realized that if I wanted to run, I would.  If I saw running as another task to check off, I did not run.  I needed to find ways to enjoy running.
   With all the "NO TRUCKS ALLOWED" signage around the country, I found that in my running shoes, I was never over 13 feet tall, or 70 feet long, or even over 10 tons.  I could go where I wanted, and see things I could not see through my windshield.

A running tourist was born.

   Since then I have run as a way to see the sights.  I have run through Manhattan, NYC, along the coast in St Thomas, USVI, around Cook Inlet in Moorea, French Polynesia, even through the Vincymas Parade in St Vincent in the Grenadines.
   Our city tour in Montevideo, Uruguay, was fun and informative, but the urge to run through the streets of this city was almost overwhelming.
   I took off from the cruise ship,while my Garmin struggled to find a satellite it recognized.  I trotted down some narrow, none-too-savory streets in the docks district, then came out onto a pedestrian boulevard with shops and the tantalizing smell of restaurants every few hundred yards. 
My Garmin finally beeped and asked if I was inside. "NO."
   "Have you traveled hundreds of miles since your last use?"
   "YES."
   The watch went back to searching as I continued running across the peninsula and back to a path that runs along the water.  Finally I heard a beep, and found that the Garmin was tracking me again.
  A few other people were running in the 90 degree heat, but most were bicycling along the path, or fishing in the waters.  The miles flew by as I figured out the people with the nets, scoops, and even plastic grocery-store bags were fishing for jellyfish.  I have no idea why anyone wants a jellyfish, but I guess that they do.
   I saw a beach in the distance, and decided to run that far, and turn around.
   I ended up with seven miles (or so), a sunburn, and great memories.