The Daily Dave

Take Me To The River

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Twenty-first-century Madrid, untroubled by the neglect to which it has often been subject, has cast off its apparently dull clothing to become a place of beauty.

Luke Stegemann, “Madrid: A New Biography”

Great rivers run through the world’s great cities. London gets its stateliness from the Thames; Paris gets its elegance from the Seine. Berlin fuzes its complicated past with its vibrant future on the banks of the Spree. Prague is at its most sublime at sunrise on the Vltava.

And Madrid … er … 

DAVE
(turns his head to look offstage)
Hey, do we have a river?

UNKNOWN VOICE (O.S.)
(inaudible)

DAVE
(still looking offstage)
¿De verdad? When did we start calling that a river?

UNKNOWN VOICE (O.S.)
(inaudible)

DAVE
(still looking offstage)
¡Genial! Love that. Just give me a heads-up next time, OK? 

(Dave turns his head to address the audience and cotinues.)

Renewed and Renowned

The Manzanares River runs through the eastern side of Madrid. It’s more of a creek than a river—slow, shallow, and in no hurry to get anywhere. When I was a kid, the Manzanares was considered an eyesore and hidden from view. I must have crossed it hundreds of times without noticing it from the M-30.

The Manzanares is still more of a creek than a river, but it’s no longer an eyesore. About 20 years ago, the city cleaned it up and made it the center of a modern, open, and inviting linear park called Madrid Río.1 It’s a hit with Madrileños and visitors, and it has been praised by urban planners, architects, landscape architects, and environmentalists around the globe.

So, if great rivers run through the world’s great cities—and I like to run (poorly) through the world’s great cities—I needed to run along Manzanares. So, I did.2

Slaughterhouse? Fine.

I began my run at the Matadero, which, like the Manzanares, symbolizes how the city transforms its ugliest places into its most brilliant ones. It used to be a slaughterhouse, and now it’s a large and lively complex for contemporary music, theater, film, and other arts.3

A handsome bearded man wearing a blue zip-up sweatshirt and white cap gestures toward a large green water tower with the word "Matadero" stenciled on the top.
Au revoir, abattoir!

Matadero literally means “slaughterhouse,” so it’s hard to ignore what used to happen there. But don’t feel too bad about it.

A screengrab from the Simpsons. Troy McClure is telling a child is telling a child, "Don't kid yourself, Jimmy. If a cow had the chance, he'd eat you and everyone you care about."

Bridge Over Shallow Water

It was a few minutes after sunrise when I reached Madrid Río. There was an orange glow on the horizon. The sky had begun to lighten but hadn’t yet achieved that vibrant shade of blue that can only be seen, and felt, in Madrid.

A view of a shallow river in an urban setting at sunrise. There is a pedestrian bridge on the horizon in front of the sun.
Years ago, this river used to be slow and shallow. Today, it’s … well … still pretty darn slow and shallow. But, like a true Madrileño, it carries itself with quiet pride. It knows other rivers might look down on it, or not understand its appeal, and it doesn’t care. It doesn’t have to prove anything to you.
A view of a shallow river in an urban setting at sunrise, framed asymmetrically by the roof and supports on a pedestrian bridge.
The Matadero Bridge looks like a postmodern concrete shell from the outside—you can see it in the photo above. The interior feels enclosed and airy at the time: The mass of the ceiling is balanced perfectly with the large openings that frame the river views. There’s a really cool mural on the ceiling, but because of its size and the lighting, it didn’t photograph well. So you need to go there yourself to appreciate it. And you need to take me with you.
A photograph of an intricately designed modern, metal pedestrian bridge spanning a shallow river in an urban setting.
From this angle, the Arganzuela Bridge looks like a delicate metal cylinder wrapped inside several cylinder metal helices. When you get a little closer, you can see it’s two similar cylinders that don’t meet in the middle. They are connected by an open platform.
A handsome bearded man sitting on the rocks in front of an intricately designed modern, metal pedestrian bridge.
A pensive moment at the Arganzeula Bridge. You can see the misaligned cylinders in the distance.
A bearded man in running gear runs on a paved pathway near an old bridge.
If the Arganzeula Bridge was too modern for you, how about the Puente de Toledo? This Baroque beauty is about 300 years old.

Crossing Over

A close-up photo of a man wearing running gear pressing a pedestrian crossing button in Spanish.
Gotta be safe crossing over Puente de San Isidro. They’re not gonna dig up the patron saint of Madrid to perform any miracles if I get hit. (They’ve already dug him up enough times over the last thousand years. Let the guy rest in peace!)
A photo of a handsome dog sitting on the bank of a river in an urban setting.
Madrid Río is going to the dogs! Lots of dogs (and their people) were out enjoying the park in the morning. This handsome, well-behaved fella was sitting patiently despite all the fuss and noises around him, making Lucy and Linus (who were 4,500 miles away) look bad.

A Sign and Some Climbs

After nearly two miles (about three kilometers) running along the Manzanares, crisscrossing the pedestrian bridges several times and stopping for photos, it was time to say bye to the river and head east.

But, first, a photo op!

A photo of a large blue Madrid sign in a park. The photo was taken from the back, so the letters appear reversed. D-I-R-D-A-M.
If you stand in front of the massive “Madrid” sign and face east, you get a great view of the river, with the Campo de Moro park and stately Royal Palace on the other side. But if you can’t face east because the sun is at the worst possible position—blinding you and ruining any attempts to take a decent photograph—you have to settle for a photo of the lesser-known and unappreciated “dirdaM” sign.4

I crossed the Puente del Rey, zipped across Campo de Moro, and you have to be fucking kidding me with this 250-foot hill this is supposed to be a flat city and made my way up the 250-foot (75-meter) hill to the Palace with good nature and confidence.

A bearded man in running gear runs past a wrought iron gate in front of a large courtyard with a palace in the background.
The strange-ing of the guard.
A bearded man with messy hair stands in front of a wrought iron gate in front of a large featureless plaza leading to a massive palace.
The Royal Palace has 3,418 rooms. No one lives there.
A bearded man with disheveled sweaty hair stands in front of a statue of a man on horse in a large public square surrounded by a large red building.
Felipe III said I can stop running here in Plaza Mayor.
A bearded man wearing a baseball cap and blue zip-up sweatshirt makes puts his finger and thumb on his chin to suggest thoughtfulness as he stands in front of a glass buliding with a tiled roof.
Mercado de San Miguel is an overpriced, overcrowded tourist trap. But … I’m sure there are churros and chocolate inside. I’ve just been running, and it’s my last day in Madrid. Don’t I deserve a treat?
A bearded man wearing a white cap holds a churro dipped in chocolate up to his lips.
Yes. The answer is always yes when it comes to churros y chocolate.

I’m not the same person who used to call Madrid home. And Madrid is not the same city that used to count me as a resident. Running along the Manzanares was sweaty, satisfying, and showed me how much the city and I have grown. ¡Genial!

The Route

By the Numbers

  • Distance: 5.2 miles (8.4 kilometers)
  • Temperature (at start): 38° F (3.3° C)
  • Total elevation gain: 372 feet
  • Total flights missed: Zero!5
Everyone Loves Footnotes!
  1. This was part of a larger infrastructure project that moved the M-30 underground, which I didn’t know about, like the river cleanup. When the Complimentary Spouse and I visited my old school a few years ago, I was disoriented (and a little concerned) because I was expecting to see Casa de Campo, not tunnel walls. “I have no idea where we are,” I whispered to Britt after a few minutes underground. “I don’t think we’re going the right way.” ↩︎
  2. This wasn’t my first trip to Madrid Río. Britt and I went there in 2021—it was the same trip referenced in the footnote above. However, this was my first time running along the Manzanares. Sneaker tourism for the win! ↩︎
  3. OK, I didn’t choose this as my starting point for symbolic reasons. It’s right outside the Legazpi Metro station. My hotel wasn’t near Madrid Río. ↩︎
  4. I (somewhat reluctantly) flipped the featured image (at the top of this page and on the links) to make things less confusing. As a former journalist, I’m uncomfortable with editing photographs in a way that distorts or misrepresents the scene. That’s why I wouldn’t let Vanity Fair airbrush my photos when I appeared naked and pregnant on the cover in August 1991. ↩︎
  5. You may remember how I cut things close on my last day in Prague. I gave myself a bit more time in Madrid. After my last churro, it took me three hours to travel back to the hotel, shower, change, pack, take the train from Atocha to Barajas, check in, get through security, and even grab a quick beer in the lounge. The next morning, I was up bright and early and running through Lisbon. ↩︎