The Corniche has become a sort of saving grace for me in Doha. It is 8 kilometers of sea-lined park, separating the Persian Gulf from the busy streets, chaotic roundabouts, and skyscrapers stretching from the diplomatic district to the airport. Traditional boats periodically dock and depart, as do airplanes that take off directly over the water. Ocean washes up on shore. Yachts drift by on weekends, overtaken by jet skis. In the distance lay man-made sandbars that will in the future be developed shoreline and land on an updated map.
While at night the walkways and grassy knolls are crowded with families and lovers and friends, around noon the Corniche is practically deserted. This is my favorite time to set out for a run, baking in the heat that will soon be hotter and drier as we move deeper into the middle of the year. This time of day separates the men from the boys -- a silly mind game I often play in my head on runs -- when in reality it probably just keeps away those in search of a more pleasant stroll where they can hold someone's hand without them sticking together. In either case, it is nice to have the place to myself and get away from all that has become a daily grind. It has been nice, and necessary, to sweat a few things out.
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