Four Miles Around Boston’s Back Bay

Mile Markers literally hits the road

Treadmills. Not a big fan, though I often wind up on one in whatever hotel I happen to be staying at. The miles are fine. I push myself with the speed and the incline. It’s convenient to keep a towel right there, but I miss the rhythm of the road and working with the weather: A gym does nothing for my motivation, cardio reduced to a box check in my daily routine.

Still, that’s where I was in the middle of July. At the Residence Inn by Fenway Park, doing a 5K on the treadmill before touring another set of schools with my daughter. On the first day, BU and BC. Harvard and Tufts were next. I knew we’d be walking plenty, and we did, but without timing myself and competing against myself, the totals weren’t enterable in my log.

I spent six years in and around Boston. Love the city, loathe their teams—especially the Celtics, as a Lakers fan. Since we were near Newbury Street, which my daughter wanted to check out, we strolled over after sushi. It’s more of an outdoor mall rife with name brands than the boutique-y haven I remember it as, but our mutual exhaustion and satisfaction from a successful kickoff was, as a dad, one of those feelings.

That resulted in a bit of procrastination in the morning. And when the call sheet calls for an early start to a Michael Phelps-like program, you best hit your mark. So, the convenience of a treadmill, not the fun of the pavement.

Either way, the complimentary breakfast buffet is aces. Always.

Alarm buzzed a little past 5. Snoozed it once and then mobilized, stretched in the lobby, and began my half-mile power walk. The area is a far cry from my reality in the mid-’90s. The transformation, exponential. Hello, Green Monster. Heat and humidity, too. Crossed the bridge over the Pike, and as I was about to exit Kenmore Square…running.

Final day in Beantown. The docket included Emerson, my alma mater, as well as Northeastern. I hung a left and, a couple of short blocks later, arrived at Beacon Street and Charlesgate East. My dorm from freshmen year. You could argue that the first day of college is the first day of the rest of your life, but three decades since and with life events occurring more often, I wondered if what I had to show for it offered enough depth.

I jogged toward the Bull & Finch Pub, mindful of disjointed pieces of the sidewalk. Same route I used to take to class, but never this fast. Ironic, given the age gap, and ironic that—over time, post-graduation—the campus I’d experienced was transplanted to the Theater District. Diagonally across the park. The brownstones here converted into apartments. No irony in that.

Turned right onto Arlington Street and headed into the Public Garden at the Comm Ave entrance. General Washington, not Paul Revere, on horseback. I’d return to this spot with my daughter after the Emerson visit, the kid in me adores the Make Way for Ducklings statues, but even a minute in this pristine collection of trees opens the lungs and the mind. And it did. The sweat was good. A layer shed.

Boston was waking up quickly. Boylston Street: (dog)walkers, runners, people en route to food or friends or both. Or work. I don’t like stopping in the middle of exercising, but Trinity Church and the Hancock Tower are forever compelling. Copley Square. Suppose you could label these pauses “nostalgic” or “sentimental” and you wouldn’t be wrong, though looking at this spiritual sight in the shadow of the glass monolith did me some justice. Controlled breathing rooted in the present. 

Maybe it’s not a question of depth, but height.

Watching the time, I plotted a small circuit starting at Hemenway Street by the Back Bay Fens. An old apartment. Symphony Hall. The Christian Science Center, with its pair of giant books and the reflecting pool that I should’ve sat in to cool off, but I’m 52.

Shower. Hard-boiled egg with bacon on a toasted bagel. A cup of fruit. I crushed a Belgian waffle and pretty much drank syrup from the containers. Two croissants, devoured in the elevator. And with a full belly and full of direction, I shifted my focus 100% to my daughter and her needs so she could find the direction she needed for her future.