The dogs were already barking before I turned the corner.
A chorus of raspy yelps echoed off the stone wall. No leashes or collars. No owner. Just them, a dusty alley, and me … mid-stride, already committed. We stared each other down longer than I’d like to admit. They held their ground. I held mine. I edged forward, somewhere between cautious and confident, and before I knew it, they’d turned and trotted off like nothing had happened.
I’ve begun to normalise these moments. Anyone that wants to run every street in San Miguel de Allende should be ready for dog encounters. And cobblestones. And construction sand piles, chaotic festejos, low-hanging wires, and the not-so-occasional “wait … is this still a road?”
And that’s the point.
I’m an English-born elite trail runner and DJ, based in San Miguel de Allende. I’ve spent the past two decades exploring cities, deserts, mountains, and jungles on foot — from the fells of Cumbria to the peaks of the French Alps, to frozen trails in Inner Mongolia and the burning desert sands of southern Egypt. Running is how I like to get to know a place, and how a place gets to know me.

In San Miguel de Allende, it has become an obsession.
Before I had even landed here, I knew I wanted to run every single street in the town. The logic was simple: I wanted to truly understand what it means to live in San Miguel de Allende. It’s not a large town, but it’s not small either. I figured it would take a couple of months of concerted effort. However… what started as a simple idea morphed into Obsesión Territorial, my project to cover every single street, path, alley, and forgotten byway in the entire municipio of San Miguel de Allende: over 500 square miles of high desert plain, mountains, ranchos, and urban sprawl. I will run the cobbled postcard streets of Zona Centro, to the dusty dirt roads of San Damián, the hilltop trails of Cruz del Palmar, the ancient haciendas of Estancia de Canal, and far beyond. On foot. It’s a monster undertaking. Honestly, I don’t even know if it’s possible. I am going to try.
Why?
In my experience, especially here in México, maps lie. Or at least, they omit. They show what someone once deemed worth showing. And even just a few months into the project I can tell you that there is so much more to this place than what you see on paper, or on google. Running is how I uncover the rest.

I want to know this place beyond the public face, beyond the UNESCO status, out into the overlooked corners. I want to feel the rhythms of the villages at sunrise, and learn to identify the different scents after rain. I want to see which colonias still smell of wood smoke — and understand why they do — and which areas feel untouched. I want to find the generational taquerías with family recipes better than anybody else’s. I want to talk to the abuelitas on the stoops, who wonder what the hell this skinny white guy is doing running down their privada. I want to learn.

So far, I’ve logged hundreds of kilometres and been in fracas with feral dogs, stumbled across secret shrines, found bootleg brick kilns, countless dead ends, and trails that may be roads, or roads that may be trails — the jury’s out. I’ve also found endless beauty, grit, and wonder. I believe I am experiencing all of it in a way that few have, or ever will. And what’s more, I’ve barely even begun. By my calculations I am around 25% completed, and I am notoriously bad at math.
You can follow the project at Obsesión Territorial, where I share stories, neighbourhood profiles, routes, and reflections on this strange and beautiful endeavour.

If you see a lone runner out past the map’s edge, possibly looking lost, probably looking tired, that might be me. I implore you — say ‘hola’.
I’ll be sharing some of my favourite stories and discoveries here on Savant, and I can’t wait to bring you all on the journey with me.
Let’s run.








