I run this town.
“This town” meaning Lausanne.
And “run” meaning literally running: moving my legs in a galloping nature, arms pumping desperately to keep warm and the same two songs blasting in my earbuds because (oops) I forgot to download music onto my phone before leaving home. These two songs last me until I reach the top of the hill right outside our house, fondly called La Croisée by those who live within its tangerine-orange walls, and then I’m stuck with city noises for the rest of my run.
But, I mean, they are Swiss City Noises. So they’re better than regular city noises. How, you ask? Because these city noises come from trains traveling to and from places as near as Geneva and as far as Denmark. These city noises come from the gigantic Rolex clock announcing the hour. These city noises are the bumps of boots and the clicking of heels as the masses rush to work with their breakfast croissants. Oh these Swiss city noises. Kind of magical, I’m not going to lie. So, despite the sad lack of beats in my iTunes library, I find that Lausanne makes music of its own. And I’m falling more and more love with it every day.
But wait. There is a point here that begs for clarification. Just in case you think I am some kind of super-athlete reminiscent of Allyson Felix (think 2012 London Olympics), because of the brash “I run this town” statement above, let me set you straight. My running style has been characterized as that of a hunchback jackrabbit with severe gimpy-itis in both legs. Except my left leg has it worse than my right, so my right leg is always compensating for the left leg’s inadequacy. The result? I waddle more than I run. In fact, when I catch my reflection in windows, I almost start laughing…until I realize it is my own reflection. Are we all clear now as to my actual athletic ability? Good. Saying “I run this town” is just a way for me to pump myself up when I round the corner and there is yet another hill. Why, Lausanne? Why the obsession with elevated streets?!
Speaking of elevation (nice transition, yeah?), let me draw your attention to the even greater hills that are not cobblestoned and that stand out against the winter sky: the Alps. Yes, my dear readers, the Alps. The sun rising over the snowy crags never ceases to amaze me. It also never ceases to remind me that I am late for my 8:20am French class. But, hey, if I can roll down the stairs, grab my coffee from the beautiful chrome espresso machine, and learn French from a true gem of a professor (shout-out to Joelle), then I live a pretty good life.
This good life is something I am trying not to take for granted. Because it feels selfish, you know, to complain and to feel down or overwhelmed and to miss the comforts of home like Chipotle and Lily’s Burritos and Toppings Frozen Yogurt…is it a problem that I just mentioned all food places? Nope, not a problem at all. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve been introduced to Willy Wonka-style chocolat chaud topped with whipped cream and vanilla ice cream. I also took three trains to the Cailler Chocolate Factory and shamelessly raided the free sample room. And yes, for all you Lausanne veterans, the fine establishment of Holy Cow has been frequented by this girl more than once. There is no lack of food around here. But I digress.
Back to taking things for granted: it is a topic of conversation quite frequently among my fellow Lausanne-rs. Collectively, we miss home. It’s just a statement of the fact. And yet, growing stronger every day is the feeling that something big is happening here and we are all a part of it. Maybe it’s because we are finishing up Week Three. Maybe it’s the joy and love of life that turn into spontaneous dance parties down in the Student Center on Wednesday nights. Maybe it’s the trips together (like snowboarding in Interlaken on the first weekend). Maybe it’s the daily runs through this city with running buddies. Those runs are daily highs, daily reminders that I live in a great country with great people and an even greater God. #Blessed? Very much. Not even ashamed of the cliché.
Go run your own town, dear readers. Whether you run along the stonewalled residential avenues of Lausanne or the beaches of Malibu or the Great Wall of China, just get out there and run. Run with Gimpy-Swag and yes, that’s a thing, because I say it is. Run to the outskirts of the town and find some Swiss countryside. Or run through the business district and gawk at the Maserati and Ferrari stores sitting side-by-side. Or run up to the Justice Building and admire the view from the steps. Or don’t run if it’s not your thing–walking is good, too. But “I walk this town” doesn’t sound cool at all, sorry.
Stay warm and safe and grateful for the Little Things, dear readers. Run your towns. And
Ayo Waves.
