melbourne’s cool, wet hug left me shivering and grinning
woke up to a mystery sputtering at my gear check. no clue why i packed a raincoat for a marathon covered in sunshine. turns out the ‘sunshine’ was a liar. i just checked and it’s damp and 16 something degrees, which is fine by me honestly. hope you like that kind of thing. not the humidity kind. not the oppressive summer kind. this was a ‘you woke up in a sauna that forgot to turn on the heater’ kind. which is honestly a vibe.
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someone at the park told me to run this route because the city’s hidden trails ‘don’t care if you’re sweaty or wet.’ i laughed. they were probably drunk. or maybe just had one too many flat whites. but it worked. the trail by lane swann park? pure gold. felt like i was sneaking through a secret. and secret’s cool. especially when they’re wet.
the weather tried to surprise me again. one minute i was sprinting past a yoga instructor on a mat made of grass (what even) and the next? a cloud dumped a salad on my head. i checked the feels_like. it was 16.3. which is less than the max. which is the same as the min. which means this was one of those days where time melts and you just exist. which is good? idk. i ran the same stretch three times because i thought i’d get different sights each time. didn’t. just got better at checking my phone for the map. which is a crime.
iframe src="https://maps.google.com/maps?q=-36.75,144.2667&z=12&output=embed" width="100%" height="300">
then there’s the neighbors. if you get bored, east melanburn or frankston are just a short drive away. haven’t checked the distance. probably wrong. also, i heard from a drunk tourist at a hostel that the market south melbourne is the best place to cry and buy socks. i didn’t cry. but i bought socks. wool ones. because the winds were angry.
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another local whispered that the street artists near central station are ‘just trying to pay rent.’ which is sad? or hopeful? idk. but i took photos of a guy painting a mural of a dog wearing glasses. he said it was ‘for the dog’s soul.’ i think he was lying. but i took the photo anyway.
i snapped a couple images. one of a clock tower with a flag on top of it. another of a large building with a clock on the top of it. and a grey statue during daytime. the statues are always there. nobody cares. they’re just ghosts of the past. or maybe they’re just tired. like me. here’s the images:
img src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1694356304049-9d2687ef24dd?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&w=1080&q=80" alt="a clock tower with a flag on top of it" width="100%"
img src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1708267091902-05c1145b2683?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&w=1080&q=80" alt="a large building with a clock on the top of it" width="100%"
img src="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1559117313-991c71a37516?crop=entropy&cs=tinysrgb&fit=max&fm=jpg&w=1080&q=80" alt="grey statue during daytime" width="100%"
i thought i’d get lost. or at least bored. but every street had stories. a bakery with sourdough that smelled like regret. a café where the barista knew all the regulars’ names and their travails. i asked about reviews. one person said the city’s record store had a ’90s mix album that made people cry. another said the library’s basement has a secret jazz room. i didn’t check either. but i’d remember if i did.
yelp.com has a page for this place. tripadvisor too. maybe don’t trust them. they might be bored. or lying. or just here for the free wifi.
pro tip: if you’re here and it’s cool and wet, run. not jog. not walk. run. the city’s vibe is better when you’re dodging rain. i almost missed that. i was staring at my shoes questioning life. which is such a marathon runner thing.
Melbourne’s weather is like a friend who never shows up on time. your neighbors are just other people trying to survive. and the reviews? they’re all half-truths from people who should’ve stayed home. but here’s to hoping you find your own truth. maybe in a soup kitchen. maybe in a park. maybe just by continuing to move forward. even if you’re sweaty. even if you’re wet. even if you’re 16 degrees and pretending it’s 30.
ps: coffee snobs gather here. it’s true. i saw one. she was judging my latte. fair. i deserve it.
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