The fight to build the Mount Vernon Trail

Most mornings I rise before sunrise, trying my best not to wake the rest of my family – although I don't always succeed. I put on whatever running clothes I can find and tiptoe downstairs to lace up my sneakers.

After pushing the front door shut, I jog slowly out of my neighborhood to warm up. The silence of the black morning hangs over all of Alexandria. I head east as the sun peeks through the trees over the Potomac. I effortlessly cross the GW Parkway—the area that will have the least traffic all day—and jog onto the Mount Vernon Trail. For the next hour, it's my home.

I've done this hike almost every day since moving to Alexandria. I know every inch of the trail. I know every switchback. I know when to slow down on steep descents and when to accelerate on steep climbs. I know the sections that flood after a thunderstorm. I know the sections that get hazy and too exposed to the blistering August afternoon sun. And the areas where the cool Potomac air calms down for a brief respite. I wouldn't say trail access was the main reason I moved to Alexandria, but it was certainly an additional selling point.

I never ride or run with music playing—a habit I picked up long ago when I ran cross country in high school. While it doesn't help pass the time, it does make it easy to get lost in thought while on the trail. I don't think I experience runner's high—honestly, I'm not entirely sure what that is—but I can safely say that I think best when I'm working out.

If you do the math, I spend over 300 hours a year on the trail—that's about 12 full days! That's almost my entire supply of paid days off from work. But this path of running and biking for nearly two full weeks hasn't always been there.

I take this easy access for granted. How lucky am I, are we Alexandrians, to have such a vast network of parks and running trails nearby? It's easy to believe, as I certainly did, that the Mount Vernon Trail just appeared out of the blue one day. That some federal employee woke up one morning with the idea, pitched it to a faceless high-ranking bureaucrat, did some pro forma studies, sprinkled some fairy dust along the Potomac, and voilá, there's a trail. That's obviously not the case. Surely the story was more complex? I wanted to know more. I wanted to understand how selfless Alexandrians of old made possible the ground I run on today.

The history goes back to the 19th century

You may be surprised to learn that the trail's history dates back to the 19th century. Before the GW Parkway was built, separate footpaths were created along the river. When the District of Columbia's 10 square miles were originally planned, Alexandria and its shore fell under federal jurisdiction. After Alexandria surrendered its rights in 1846, the land along the Potomac remained under federal control up to the original 1791 waterline. As development along the river reshaped boundaries, the federal government claimed portions of the shore. This dispute made it difficult for Alexandria to build along the Potomac — leading to dumping and wasteland that angered both environmentalists and real estate magnates. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, the environmental movement gained ground, and activists began lobbying Alexandria to act.

Our story begins, oddly enough, on a cool, overcast day in April 1970 at one of Alexandria's prime landfills. Atop piles of garbage, with the air filled with the foulest odors, Ellen Pickering stood proudly alongside a group of Alexandria women eating lunch to protest the city's garbage disposal practices. The group biked from City Hall to the landfill to promote their cause. This wasn't Pickering's first rodeo, however. She and her friend Barbara Lynch organized a series of protests to raise awareness of local environmental issues. And although cleaner shorelines along the Potomac and better air for Alexandria's children were top priorities that day, they missed no opportunity to fight for every available green space.

An idea took off, and members of the Alexandria Beautification Committee (which Pickering represented) wanted to use the land along the Potomac for a series of new parks and trails. She and Lynch hosted a series of “bike-ins” in the area, sometimes riding along the George Washington Parkway to raise awareness of the lack of running and biking trails in the area. Pickering's voice grew louder, forcing the National Park Service to take notice.

Exercise is booming

COVID-19 motivated many Americans to get out of their homes and exercise. Some had more time on their hands. Others had to get off the couch. Most just wanted some fresh air after being cooped up for so long. Today, registrations for marathons, 5Ks, and bike purchases have skyrocketed. Personally, I have a long-standing love/hate relationship with running and cycling, and I thought 2021 was the perfect time to get back in shape.

Yet for all this enthusiasm for cardio exercise, it's nothing compared to the running and fitness boom of the early 1970s (inspired in part by Frank Shorter's victory in the marathon at the 1972 Olympics). In 1976, the Bicycle Manufacturer's Association reported a 40 percent increase in bicycle sales nationwide over the previous year. In 1974, more bicycles were sold than cars. And the Washington Post called 1973 the “Year of the Bicycle.” Companies like Nike and Schwinn became household names, and jogging became a daily activity for the average American.

What I'm saying is that Pickering and Lynch's proposal for a bike trail couldn't have come at a better time. And after a tireless campaign, the NPS finally agreed to allow new trails to run along the Potomac. There was one catch—the NPS didn't have the money to build it. Faced with this harsh reality, most activists would give up. Others might try to finance the project themselves, organizing races or other events to raise money. Not so Pickering and Lynch. They pressed on, not wanting to deprive the good people of Alexandria of their park land for a second longer than necessary. They gathered a group of volunteers who immediately got to work with shovels. The first section of what would become the Mount Vernon Trail opened in 1973 to rave reviews, and saw about 4,000 cyclists a week.

But that wasn't enough. Over the years, more sections of the trail were added. Pickering became a member of the City Council later that decade, where she continued to advocate for the environment. The fitness boom continued throughout the 1970s, and the trail gained more and more cyclists. Overcrowding and gravel injuries led to paving and expansion. In the three years since the MVT opened, over 120 miles of bike and running trails have opened in the Washington DC metropolitan area.

The Mount Vernon Trail today

Today, the MVT is fully paved, with marked lanes, rest areas, and improved boardwalk sections across the marshland. It accommodates running groups and cycling teams, and offers pit stops with food and drinks. It is one of the most used bike paths in the country, and it's all thanks to the tireless efforts of a few dedicated Alexandria women who wanted more outdoor space. A beautiful testament to unwavering tenacity and single-minded passion.

By the time I finish my run, the sun has risen. I use the short distance between the Mount Vernon Trail and home to cool off. I rarely deviate from my route, as I know the mile markers by heart in case my finicky GPS watch dies. I still use the hour on the trail each morning to daydream. My mind wanders everywhere from family to work issues to the schedule for tonight's Nats game. But wherever my thoughts take me, I no longer wonder who is responsible for building the MVT. I run with appreciation for the trailblazers who made my training possible. So on behalf of myself and all other runners, walkers, cyclists, joggers, strollers, tourists, e-bikers (well, maybe not the e-bikers), rollerbladers, skateboarders, and everyone else who can move joyfully, freely, and (most importantly) safely along the banks of the Potomac, we thank you!