Signs (in Need) of Change

Maybe this is true of every new place you find yourself in, but my first impression of the Twin Cities last summer was of its highways and byways. And let's just say that the impression was less than favorable:

• Exit Ramps without Entrance Ramps—Just because you can get off the interstate does not mean you can return. (Simply put, do not think logically while driving in Minneapolis. If you already do not think in a straight line, Minneapolis is the place for you.) Furthermore, even those entrance ramps that do exist carry a merging time on the order of milliseconds. Instead of a left arrow with the text "MERGE", a more appropriate sign might read "COLLISION AHEAD ON LEFT!" Changing the color to red also seems fitting.
• Hidden Red Lights—Instead of consistently placing red lights front and center above the intersection, it seems that the Minneapolis Department of Transportation thought it wise to introduce a little I-Spy action into every third intersection or so. I'm sure their motives were pure—perhaps to keep drivers on their toes?—but moving red lights into the driver's peripheral vision, at unpredictable intervals, only results in everyone thinking they are in the green. I plan on promptly mailing my ticket (should I survive running the red light) to my nearest D.O.T. headquarters.
• Non-existent Left-hand Turn Lanes—What looks like 4-lanes of driving freedom is really 2-lanes of brake-slamming and horn-honking frustration. I'm sure that there is not a perfectly good reason for this. The end result is weaving instead of driving.
• Illogical On-street Parking—What then looks like 2-lanes (assuming point above) quickly reduces down to one once on-street parking in the right lane is taken into account. I'm also sure that there is not a perfectly good reason for this. The net effect is to take weaving intensity from Sunday-morning casual up to Nascar-level do-or-die. This is without even considering the impact of snow.
• Whimsical Sign Placement—Probably the last driving impression worth mentioning is the signs. Sometimes an exit is marked; sometimes it's not. Sometimes a road is marked; sometimes it's not. Sometimes the arrow is pointing the right way; sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's on the left side; sometimes it's on the right side. Sometimes you have time to react; sometimes you don't. The lack of rhyme and reason works against the helpful intent that signs, by nature, aim to provide.

Having lived abroad, I realize that culture expresses itself even in a road sign. And expectations that are shared by some are not by others. So, it's possible I'm just a fish out of my Georgia pond still trying to adapt to 10,000 new sights and smells of the lakes. But I'm not that far from the south.

What does all this have to do with running?

Well, since early May, Minneapolis has been expanding their sign coverage (and philosophy) over to the Greenway bike path, my running backyard. What used to be a name-less, direction-less, distance-less place to enjoy being stuck in neutral with your thoughts is now the Little Earth Trail, exactly 1 mile north of the Martin Olav Sabo Bridge, or the Midtown Greenway, 3.5 miles east of Lake Calhoun and 1.5 miles south of the U of M (University of Minnesota). Now there are places to go and a definiteness with which to get there.

In general, I am relatively pleased with the Greenway updates (though admittedly a little suspicious of their mileage calculations). It's nice to know where you're going sometimes.

What I am less thrilled about is their word choice, most specifically their application and understanding of the term "trail".

This is not a trail:

Hmm. Again, I'm very happy to have names, but this is simply not a trail. This is a path. This is a road. This is a way. This is any other synonym you can find for one of those terms: conduit, thoroughfare, route, etc. What this is not, and will never be, is a trail.

This is a trail:

Mississippi trail.

This is a trail:

Three Rivers trail.

This is a trail:

Salem Park trail.

Probably the clearest criteria to use for determining if a "path"—a more general term that could go both ways—is worthy of the specific term "trail" is whether or not the running surface is man-made. If the running surface is man-made (asphalt, cement, concrete), it is not a trail. If the running surface is not man-made (dirt, leaves, stumps), it is a trail. (There is some debate over gravel, likely because it is sort of a mixed surface, but I lean toward using the more general "path" here.)

To be clear: this is not about preferences (though I openly admit to being quite partial to trails), but about preserving distinctions and loving the outsider in pursuit of exploring the great outdoors of Minnesota. If everything is a trail, then nothing is a trail.

Now, off to explore the Mississippi trail for the rest of morning...

UPDATE: Unrelated to trail terminology, but fitting with the theme, is this sign that I run by just about every day:

Given that I couldn't find "athorized" in Webster's, I guess this would then mean that all vehicles are welcome.