NPS - Victoria Stuaffenberg
Mount Vernon Trail
Most mornings, I’m up before the sun. I try my best not to wake the rest of my family — though I’m not always successful. I throw on whatever running attire I can find and tiptoe downstairs to lace up my sneakers.
After pushing the front door closed, I jog slowly out of my neighborhood to warm up. The stillness of the black early morning hangs over all of Alexandria. I make my way East, as the sun peeks through the trees across the Potomac. I easily cross the GW Parkway —the lightest traffic will be all day — and hop on the Mount Vernon Trail. For the next hour, it becomes home.
I’ve made this trek nearly every day since moving to Alexandria. I know every last inch of the path. I know each serpentine turn. I know when to ease up on steep downhills and when to push up sharp climbs. I know the parts that’ll flood after a thunderstorm. I know the sections that become hazy, too exposed to the sweltering August afternoon sun. And the areas where the cool Potomac air settles for a momentary reprieve. I won’t say that access to the trail was the primary factor in choosing to move to Alexandria, but it was certainly an extra selling point.
I never bike or run with music — a habit formed long ago running high school cross country. While it might not help to pass the time, it does make it easy to get lost in thought on the trail. I don’t think I get a runner’s high— frankly, I’m not quite sure what that is — but I can safely say I do my best thinking while working out.
If you do the math, I spend upwards of 300 hours a year on the trail —that’s about 12 full days! It’s nearly my entire cache of PTO days from work. But this path, the one I spend almost two full weeks running and biking on, wasn’t always around.
I clearly take this easy access for granted. How fortunate am I, are we as Alexandrians, to have such a great network of parks and running trails nearby? It’s easy, as I certainly did, to think that the Mount Vernon Trail just appeared one day out of the blue. That some federal employee woke up one morning with the idea, pitched it to a faceless senior bureaucrat, conducted a few pro forma studies, sprinkled some pixie dust along the Potomac, and voilá, there’s a trail. This is obviously not the case. Surely, the history was more complex? I wanted to learn more. I wanted to understand how selfless Alexandrians from an earlier time made the ground I run on today possible.
History extends to 19th century
You might be surprised to learn, or maybe not, that the trail’s history extends back to the nineteenth century. Separate footpaths were built along the river prior to the construction of the GW Parkway. When the 10 square miles encompassing the District of Columbia were originally plotted, Alexandria and its waterfront fell under federal jurisdiction. After Alexandria retroceded in 1846, the land along the Potomac up to the original 1791 water line remained under federal control. As development along the river reshaped the boundaries, the federal government claimed portions of the waterfront. This dispute made it difficult for Alexandria to build along the Potomac — resulting in trash dumps and wastelands, offending both environmentalists and property moguls. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, the environmental movement started to gain traction, and activists began goading Alexandria into action.
Our story curiously begins in earnest on a cool, cloudy day in April 1970 at one of Alexandria’s finest garbage establishments. Atop mountains of waste piled high, with the foulest odor imaginable wafting through the air, Ellen Pickering proudly stood alongside a group of Alexandria women eating lunch, in protest of the City’s waste management practices. The group biked from City Hall to the dump to stress their cause. This was not Pickering’s first rodeo, however. She orchestrated a variety of protests with her friend, Barbara Lynch, to highlight local environmental issues. And while cleaner shores along the Potomac and quality air for Alexandria children were top of mind that day, they never missed an opportunity to fight for any and all available green space.
A light bulb went off, and members of Alexandria’s Beautification Committee (that Pickering represented) aimed to use the land along the Potomac for a series of new parks and trails. She and Lynch staged a number of “bike-ins” around the area, sometimes riding along the George Washington Parkway to underscore the dearth of running and biking trails in the area. Pickering’s voice grew progressively louder, forcing the National Park Service to take notice.
Exercise booms
COVID-19 motivated a lot of Americans to get out of their homes and exercise. Some had extra time on their hands. Others needed to get off the couch. Most simply wanted fresh air after being cooped up for so long. Today, marathon entries, 5k participation and bike purchases have skyrocketed. I personally have had a long-lasting, love-hate relationship with running and biking and saw 2021 as the perfect time to get back into shape.
But even with all this cardio enthusiasm, it’s nothing compared to the running and exercise booms of the early 1970s (in-part inspired by Frank Shorter’s 1972 Olympic marathon victory). In 1976, the Bicycle Manufacturer’s Association saw a nationwide 40 percent year-over-year increase in bike sales. In 1974, more bikes were sold than cars. And The Washington Post dubbed 1973, the “Year of the Bike.” Companies like Nike and Schwinn became household names, and jogging became an everyday activity for the average American.
All this to say, Pickering and Lynch’s pitch for a bike path couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. And after a relentless campaign, the NPS finally agreed that new trails should run along the Potomac. There was one catch — NPS didn’t have the money to build it. Faced with this stark reality, most activists would give up. Others might try to self-fund the project, organize races or other events to collect money. Not Pickering and Lynch. They pressed right along, not wanting to deprive the good people of Alexandria of parkland for a second longer than necessary. They gathered a group of volunteers who brought shovels to dirt immediately. The first section of what would become the Mount Vernon Trail opened to rave reviews in 1973, seeing roughly 4,000 riders per week.
But this wasn’t enough. Additional portions of trail would be added throughout the years. Pickering joined the City Council later that decade, where she continued advocating on behalf of the environment. The exercise boom continued through the 1970s, with the trail adding more and more riders. Overcrowding and gravel-related injuries led to paving and expansion. In the three years since the MVT’s opening, greater DC opened more than 120 miles of bike paths and running trails.
The Mount Vernon Trail, today
Today, MVT is fully paved, with painted lanes, rest areas and improved boardwalk sections over the marshlands. It hosts running groups and biking teams and has pit stops with food and drinks. It’s one of the most widely biked trails in the country, all thanks to the tireless efforts of a few dedicated Alexandria women who wanted more outdoor space. A beautiful testament to steadfast tenacity and single-minded passion.
By the time I finish my run, the sun has risen. I use the short stretch between the Mount Vernon Trail and my home to cool down. I rarely deviate from my route, knowing the mile markers by heart, in case my finicky GPS watch conks out. I still use my hour on the trail each morning to daydream. My mind wanders all over the place — from family, to issues at work, to the lineup of tonight’s Nats game. But wherever my thoughts take me, I no longer wonder who’s responsible for building the MVT. I run with an appreciation for the trailblazers who made my workout possible. So on behalf of myself, and all the other runners, walkers, bikers, joggers, strollers, sightseers, e-bikers (eh, maybe not the e-bikers), rollerbladers, skateboarders and anyone else who joyously, freely, and (most important) safely get to move along the shores of the Potomac, we thank you!
