My husband is an athlete. When we were in high school together (though I was two years his junior), he seemed like some kind of minor god to me. I’d watch him from the stands at Holy Redeemer Field, my history teacher—the football coach—invoking his name and comparing him to the English Navy darting around and making fools out of Spain’s Armada. He was a track star, a captain of the wrestling team, and very nice to look at. Later, he played for the Flint Rogues and was, apparently, just as wonderful to watch there.
I, however, have never been an athlete—at least not in the standard, most conventional sense. My family is a very active one. My father coached travel soccer teams around Genesee County and played in men’s leagues my whole life. My brother was an athlete; one of my cousins played soccer at U of M. I have always participated in these activities with my family, but I preferred to hide myself away with a book whenever possible.
I never realized that being an athlete and being athletic were very different things until I started traveling. Europe requires a monumental amount of walking. Even in cities with good public transportation, you are going to walk—a lot—just to access the metro, and once underground, there is even more walking. And in many places, you don’t want to use transportation anyway, because then the sights would be missed: the avenues, the boulevards, the parks, the cafés lining the esplanades. Outside of the city, everything is a walk. A restaurant a mile away? A regular occurrence. A nicer beach farther down the coast? We’ll be hoofing it.
I never realized that being an athlete and being athletic were very different things until I started traveling.
I have written before about the trek up to Ravello from the city of Atrani on the Amalfi Coast: the crumbling, narrow Roman steps, the searing sun, but also the beauty of the vista—the reward and satisfaction of finishing the climb and descent, and of the obvious pasta carb-loading required afterward. But there have also been countless trips where I did all of the above with a child of varying sizes attached to my hip, probably forever altering my spine in multiple bone- and nerve-damaging ways. Swinging him into a baby carrier at 12 pounds or hoisting him up into my arms and settling him into that spot on my hip bone that seems molded exactly to his much larger 50-pound body both create challenges when walking up city streets or wandering across grassy dales.
I have run down the streets of Paris in the rain, so fast and so long, trying to see as much of the city as we could in one afternoon. I have biked across the Golden Gate Bridge and walked through forests around Bath, England, along old cow paths in Yorkshire, stepping over gnarled tree roots and watching for mud. I have scaled the terraced city of Positano, trying not to be swept away in a torrent of tourists. I have carried luggage up and down old hotel staircases with no elevators, down into metro stations, and across cobblestone streets in Barcelona while carrying a 3-year-old after being awake for 20 hours.
So all this to say, perhaps, I am an athlete too. Maybe I never earned my varsity letter (except for academics). Maybe I don’t have any old jerseys in my closet and no glory days behind me. But I do have thousands of steps walked all over the world. I have earned aching feet from the streets of Pompeii and sweated while hiking Vesuvius. My trophies for athleticism are less shiny, but they carry the same pride and give the same satisfaction.
And now, his glory days behind him, I have my husband by my side as we traverse this globe together, our feet hitting the same streets, both captains of our own travel team.
Alexandria Nolan-Miller is a misplaced Michigander navigating the vibrant chaos of Houston’s urban jungle. She travels with her husband and young son, contributing her insights and experiences to various print and digital publications. As the author of historical books rooted in Michigan, Alexandria brings the past to life through her writing. When not on the road, she can be found immersed in books, teaching, sharing stories, and chasing new adventures to inspire her next piece.
