Running in Beirut

I let my gym membership lapse, to see the city while pounding the streets instead. Over time, I grew to love it.

I used to hate running in Beirut. I hated the pollution in the air; the way I was breathless from the dust and dirt by the time I got half way up the uphill hairgrip bend in the road at Raouché. I dreaded the waiting to cross roads; the jogging-on-the-spot for limitless streams of cars to pass. Sell your APC-like thing…