Posted Monday, October 20, 2003; 21:00 HKT
It's 9 p.m. in Hong Kong and the heat has finally broken—a time I have been waiting for all day. I lace up my Asics, hit the start button on my Timex Ironman watch, and set off on what becomes an almost nightly ritual whenever I am in town. My path is Bowen Road, a running trail I have come to love almost deliriously. This 4-km ribbon of asphalt, often no wider than a single automobile, is hardly a road at all (cars are blessedly infrequent) but a marvel of urban recreation space. Clinging halfway up Hong Kong island's dominant peak, Bowen Road feels like a shady, jungle catwalk, overgrown with bamboo, palms and strangler figs. Despite the dip in temperature, I am already sweating in the subtropical humidity, passing the familiar landmarks of my trail: an earth-god shrine (often thick with incense smoke); the waterfalls (usually dry) near the intersection with Bowen Drive; the bridge crossing the tracks of the Peak Tram funicular, which has been ferrying commuters to their swanky, mountaintop homes since 1888; and a stone marker from 1903 that once denoted the city's outer boundary.

The natural and historical charms of Bowen Road are only half the attraction, however—it's the view the trail provides of Victoria Harbor that keeps me coming back. The road runs along the back of perhaps the world's most striking skyline, offering spectacular glimpses of iconic edifices such as I.M. Pei's Bank of China Building, the gaudy, gold Central Plaza and the brand-new, 88-story IFC Two tower. Lit up at night in a dazzling array of colors, they are breathtaking. Reaching the end of the trail, I hit the stop button on my watch and head home after 8 km and 40 minutes, a measure of sanity restored.

When I moved from New York City to Asia just over a year ago, my runner friends in Manhattan almost pitied me. What would I do without Central Park, they wondered? With its beautiful and varied trails packed into an amazingly compact urban setting, Central Park is easily one of the finest places to run in the world. How could I find anything to compete with that? My friends, as it turns out, needn't have worried. Running wherever I travel—whether in Hong Kong, mainland China, Japan or farther afield—has become perhaps the most satisfying part of my life in Asia and is already the source of many of my fondest memories.

Runners in the region know that heading out the door without a plan and without a map (but with plenty of cab fare, plus the name card of your hotel in case you get hopelessly lost) is an outstanding way to explore any new city: to stumble upon the alleys and street scenes that the guidebooks never cover; to see the great sites from a perspective most tourists never experience. Running through Tiananmen Square at dawn, for example, provides an intriguing contrast to the overcrowding and chaos that take over the area by 10 a.m. every day. In the early morning light, it is a solemn, almost contemplative place, its overwhelming size emphasized by the very emptiness. Your only companions, as you lap the square (besides a few hard-core Chinese runners eager to engage you in an informal, unacknowledged but very serious race), are the baby-faced military color guard hoisting the national flag, watched by a few early-bird busloads of Chinese tourists in color-coordinated baseball caps. The soldiers might get annoyed, either because you're not paying proper respect to the ceremony or more likely because you're stealing the show: the tourists quickly become more interested in snapping pictures of a Westerner jogging than in the guards.

Running can also become a source of comfort during periods of loneliness, a pillar of stability in an occasionally alienating existence. If you regularly run Nanjing Road and the Bund in Shanghai in the early morning, for example, you'll suddenly become a part of the community there. One of the old ladies doing Tai Chi as mist rises off the Huangpu River might smile at you ever so slightly; the same children on their way to school now wave, delighted that they recognize you; and the shopkeeper who unlocks his front grate at 8 each morning offers a knowing nod.

In my new hometown of Tokyo, I already have a few familiar routines that compete favorably with my old love, Central Park. But I have one favorite in particular: more often than not, I'll loop the 5-km ring around the Imperial Palace, with the wide moat and white gatehouses in front of me and views of the office-tower heart of Tokyo farther beyond. On ambitious days I'll do it twice. And the euphoria I feel as I round the bend at the crest of the hill near the Diet building—with the sun shining and the cherry blossoms blooming—compares to nothing else on earth.

	TIME Global Adviser Our weekly roundup of news, notes and helpful tips for the global traveler Lowdown on the High Life [Oct 13, 2003] Which laundries can you trust with your Prada shirts? Find out from a new batch of guides for upscale tourists Rooted to Nowhere [Oct. 6, 2003] Globe hopping can be an emotional strain on expat kidsÑbut it can also bring them lifelong benefits The Road to Redemption [Sept 22, 2002] A wartime trail becomes a symbol of Vietnam's future Top Spot for High Tea [September 6, 2003] Fancy a cuppa? Then head for the hills of Kerala More Related Items | Search all issues of TIME Magazine