© Rumbidzai Savanhu'City running is, arguably, a sport in itself, where it's essential to have your wits about you, and a taste for adventure.'
It's a bright Sunday afternoon and I'm standing on a smooth slab of asphalt, surrounded by both quiet and chaos. A steady melody of car engines is disturbed only by an occasional honk or the high-pitched alert of pedestrian lights somewhere in the distance. After the long stretch of lockdown, the humdrum sound of street traffic is oddly soothing, and a welcome backdrop to the playlist that'll entertain my latest rumble through the concrete jungle.
The first song is cued: Wookie's What's Going On?, a big, beat-pumping dance remix, with Caron Wheeler's vocals an invitation to make the most of my weekend jaunt around inner east London. City running is, arguably, a sport in itself, where it's essential to have your wits about you, and a taste for adventure. Quick impulses, Google Maps and mood music never hurt, either. 'Steady, are you ready?' prods the Soul II Soul singer's dulcet tones. 'I'm down, take a look around. What's goin' down?' As usual, plenty around these parts. As I set off into a light, steady trot, I'm soon faced with a barrage of street works to dodge, the signs occupying a good bulk of the pavement, and clearly more concerned with public safety than my right to a hazard-free run. This section of my route is usually an unhampered residential strip, with interruptions coming in the form of startled cats or couples walking hand in hand. They always seem reluctant to let go of their grip for me to pass, as though the act of releasing their hands might be an omen of bad things to come.
Today there are no lovebirds and once through the street works I can pick up my pace, breathing deeper as the next song kicks in - Jaheim's Just In Case (Dubaholics Remix). But after I take a left onto the narrow pavement of a side road I'm forced to hit the brakes again. I've arrived at the high street, which, even on a Sunday, is a cacophony of buzzy trading and jovial interactions. Sometimes there's a little melodrama for entertainment. When I moved into the area from west London, I was more accustomed to pristine pavements and respectable encounters, so to say running around here was a culture shock would be an understatement. But now, I wouldn't have it any other way.
Across the way, I spot fellow runners weaving and bobbing past leisurely strollers, who glance with either admiration or annoyance. This is a part of my route that I could easily avoid, if only to spare my lungs from the pollution. But I find there's a real thrill in being immersed in the mayhem, experiencing connections with the city that you miss when you spend the bulk of your time stuck indoors. It's also a chance to clock what's happening in my neighbourhood- like the closure of a Nigerian takeaway spot I was rooting for. Or the opening of a new Punjabi restaurant, which I make a mental note to visit.
With the incessant stop-starts, I now switch to something akin to interval training, but without the commitment to a set time or pace. The pavement along the colourful Kingsland Road is conveniently wider, so, for the next mile, I fly through the cultural corridor of charmingly dishevelled shops, takeaways and new office builds, before a stretch of Vietnamese restaurants signals I've landed in Hoxton. A few more metres and I've hit the jarring divide where the gentrified Shoreditch community ends and the steely commerce of the City begins.
Imposing metallic buildings reach high into the sky, blocking the sun, and as I run on, I spy the tip of the Gherkin before it reveals itself in full view. A new tune's blasting in my ears: Hold On (SE22 Mix) by Stephen Emmanuel Presents Colours feat. June Hamm. It's a UK garage classic and zipping through London, it is pleasingly fitting to be energised by one of the city's musical offspring. My runs, whether a quick lunchtime 5K or lengthy weekend city tour, have always been something of a music-fuelled celebration. In fact, it was the creative meshing of music and movement that motivated my early running days with running group Run Dem Crew. We used to be headquartered nearby and it was on those runs that I discovered the multitude of hidden gems and architectural marvels around Liverpool Street, Moorgate and Barbican.
© Rumbidzai SavanhuMy favourite run route - Matilda Egere-Cooper
On Sundays, running around the polished modern squares in the city is exactly what my curiosity craves. Signs of human life are few and far between, and there are always spots where I can stop for a moment of respite. It makes a change from being here months ago as a commuter, zipping through Liverpool Street station on my way to and from the office, fuelled by an uncomfortable combo of adrenaline and anxiety.
Heading to Barbican, I take a scenic route via Exchange House, an award-winning office building with exposed arches that span high above Liverpool Street station's tracks. It's striking, innovative architecture, but for runners, it's also a bit of a playground. I charge up the House's wide diagonal steps and run into the vast space decorated with trees and marble benches. On the left, I catch sight of the Broadgate Venus - a voluptuous, five-tonne sculpture by Colombian artist Fernando Botero, which makes for a hilarious selfie, if you can fit her in shot.
I usually run back around the square towards Sun Street Passage and take the stairs down towards theUBS building into Broadgate, another little square, but this one filled with chic spots designed for city workers with deep pockets. If I'm peckish, I'll pop into Yauatcha Patisserie and treat myself to an egg custard mooncake or a white chocolate yuzu macaron - both a million times better than any energy gel. Otherwise, I can trust my playlist to give me the boost I need, and Gabriel by Roy Davis Jr feat. Peven Everett couldn't have come on at a better time.
Next stop is Finsbury Avenue Square, which I run circles around, making mental notes of the restaurantsI'll try to visit on the other side of the pandemic. Gaucho.Bar Douro. Hop Vietnamese. Farmer J. I don't stick around too long, though, as the pleasant span of empty streets en route to the Barbican is calling. I always seem to find it tricky getting to the residential bit of the estate, which, to be fair, was designed to be hidden: it was formerly a fort for City workers. So I never quite know how I end up on Wood Street, then St Giles Terrace - a delightful quarter surrounded by a pretty lake and fountain, which sparkles in front of the Barbican Centre.
This sprawling complex is a big draw, with its combination of brutalist architecture, hidden walkways, medieval remnants and tidy greenery (which, actually, has nothing on the tropical paradise inside the Barbican's conservatory). Here I can run and explore, forgetting that, at some point, I'll need to make the trip back home. I've already racked up four miles. But it's exactly why this city girl will never get bored of her little urban trail. It's the perfect escape: getting lost in the joy of discovering an oasis on my doorstep, and appreciating that just my legs and some great tunes can get me there.
Matilda Egere-Cooper is the founder of Fly Girl Collective.