tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60515063067310173942024-03-13T04:07:48.586-04:00The Unstoppable RunMooAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-25373658106957091712017-01-07T20:29:00.003-05:002017-01-07T20:29:56.359-05:002017 New YearWell, it's 2017 and the hashtag #ShareMore overcame me around New Years Day. Here I go; I'm trying to SHARE MORE with you.<br />
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My fitness has fallen off the wayside for the past six weeks, at least since soccer ended in November. My work life took a hard hit, and I was strongly derailed from my track of finding some form of fitness during the week. Here we are in the New Year, and I'm hopefully moving back the Washington DC area shortly, so... #NewBeginnings.<br />
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I went for a run on New Years Day. Just a few laps around a reservoir near my house. I didn't time myself or track the distance.<br />
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I spent most of the time lamenting over the recent loss of my grandmother, and running helped clear my head, as it usually does.<br />
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My stomach has gotten soft. I decided to start following a girl named Zuzana "Zuzka" Light: a Czech fitness model who came into my Instagram feed one day. She posts these amazing 5-minute-workout videos on YouTube. I quit Equinox, so it's whatever I can do on my own now. Who wouldn't want to look like this?<br />
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I'm trying to eat healthier too. It's EXTREMELY difficult to not shove my face with carbs and fats. I have such a light frame and I don't eat much, and not I have to find some way to enjoy the lighter fare. Lunch was an egg sandwich (Melted cheese? I don't know what you're talking about); dinner was an avocado salad. I've just got to take it one day at a time.<br />
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I ate strawberries for dessert instead of baking that incredible chocolate chip cookie dough that I purchased. I don't even know who I am anymore.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-82336335019939823232017-01-07T20:09:00.002-05:002017-01-07T20:09:33.333-05:00Reinvigorated by the Caribbean[Written 4/2016. Posted 1/2017]<br />
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I had a marvelous vacation in Mexico this past week.<br />
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It only took a few moments in the humid, tropical air to be reminded of my love for the Caribbean, and I was instantly transported to a time and place when I lived it day in and day out for an entire year in Miami. No wonder I picked up running as a constant and serious habit when I lived there. The flat terrain, the ocean breeze, the opportunity to see yourself half naked nearly every day, in an environment when clothes cover only half of what they need to up here in our colder seasons. It's enough to make anyone want to stay in shape, all year round. I've come back feeling refreshed, tan and happy, and most spectacularly of all, inspired.<br />
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SO inspired that I braved this windy and chilly afternoon to tackle the nine miles that I had pitted against myself for the last morning in Mexico. Unfortunately, my tacos the night prior kept me corralled to a very small diameter to any restroom for the last 48 hours. Ah, Mexico.<br />
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I'm not sure if it was the remnants of the vacation-high, the crystal clear skies and bright, shining sun or simply the determination to adhere to my predetermined distance, but I trodded off, ear buds in, music blasting and turtleneck and leggings tightly wrapped around these small bones. This was waiting for me:<br />
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The funny thing about my longer runs is that I find myself making a 360-degree trip in my head of the outcome. Gung-ho first off I'm determined as anything to fully circuit the lake enough times to settle eight miles. Four and a half miles in, I wonder how I even made it the first four. The remaining four, I only think of every pain shooting through various parts of my body, and those thoughts are contradicted by the interspersion of "Grandmother might be bed-ridden this year. I'm so lucky to have two mobile legs underneath me." You see the war that resides within? And by mile eight, all I think is, "Well, this locomotive is still running, let's see if we can't bang out juuuuuust one more." And lo and behold, we clock nine miles at a 7:50 pace. I never appreciate my determination until about an hour later when I'm standing naked post-shower and realizing that it all did me very well. Is that shallow? I think it's so very human. And to be honest, whatever keeps us singing our tunes.</div>
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What came to light this afternoon is actually a seed that I frequently rely on during any moments where I find myself reaching the white girl "I literally can't even." It's an underlying tack someone stuck under my butt that pesters with the barely audible, "Just a little bit more." Just find your little bit more.</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-41089482624323338532015-08-28T17:09:00.001-04:002015-08-28T17:44:42.706-04:00Eggs and SingaporeI think I'll take the first part of my 30s to try and develop the perfect scrambled eggs plate. Well, perfect for me, since we all fare differently when it comes to our palates. <div><br></div><div>This was this morning's attempt. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzJbpLEVLJ7gFF-L6VL7xa0qqODi4Jpiwydxh49jxcl73IbE6uBXKHjaXLAxSfNhGvR6bQP2eTt_VogdhalhBA9ZDVAkFO904soyr83HOGkwWFsv4decMVlOWwBw0caPTh2WD4NKCH_s/s640/blogger-image--2041950525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzJbpLEVLJ7gFF-L6VL7xa0qqODi4Jpiwydxh49jxcl73IbE6uBXKHjaXLAxSfNhGvR6bQP2eTt_VogdhalhBA9ZDVAkFO904soyr83HOGkwWFsv4decMVlOWwBw0caPTh2WD4NKCH_s/s640/blogger-image--2041950525.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>It's contains the basics: eggs, milk, spinach, garlic, basil, tomatoes. But instead of adding salt, I pressed and finely chopped two slices of salami, tossed them in the pan and BOO YA... what a delicious kick of flavor. I usually add a bit of hot sauce on top of my finished eggs, but this morning I tossed a wee bit of this into my uncooked, stirred eggs. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexPEVN3CWsVFpUtZA1jDq2POp6GOx1k8h4tdqp8DAkz1kmr7UhDbFPH9pgNfTrDzxNgTXzE-TZNyRldG9XM6NUkD1T0iZpWlkjQTD3j3cBqxCV36pAM4o0phWLgt-w_uTi1A4VxEbT-4/s640/blogger-image--1757475294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexPEVN3CWsVFpUtZA1jDq2POp6GOx1k8h4tdqp8DAkz1kmr7UhDbFPH9pgNfTrDzxNgTXzE-TZNyRldG9XM6NUkD1T0iZpWlkjQTD3j3cBqxCV36pAM4o0phWLgt-w_uTi1A4VxEbT-4/s640/blogger-image--1757475294.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>I probably could've used a little more; it didn't really come through. And I'm not sure that I'm fond of so much spinach. It brings a darkness to the dish. I think I'll use less next time. I definitely got a little spinach happy on this one. Overall, I think I'm on the right track.</div><div><br></div><div>A LITTLE BIT ABOUT SINGAPURA</div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Singapore seems to be a very ritzy, businessy, expensive, clean, beautiful city. The foliage is absolutely stunning. The tropical air is keeping these plants extremely happy. It's a cultural melting pot of all types - mostly Chinese - including Austrailians, Indians and British; a complete 180 from Chiangmai, where I saw less than 10 non-Thais every day. Singapore celebrated its 50-year anniversary earlier this month, only gaining its independence as the Republic of Singapore in 1965. It's almost a "new city". Isn't that crazy! There are about 5.5 million people living here, English is the common language, and they're known for their "practical, effective, and incorrupt governance and civil service" and has been hailed as "one of the easiest cities in which to do business". </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Just last year, an Indian man was struck and killed by a bus, while he was drunkenly reveling through the end of his weekend, as it was common for them to do. Indians banded together and rioted in the streets. The government refused to tolerate the riots, and passed a law forbidding the sale of alcohol on the street after 10pm. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Prostituion is legal (yep, saw them all lined up at the Hyatt), but it's IL-legal for girls to be topless in strip clubs. To that end, most media is PG-d down to exclude profanity and extreme violence. We were watching "Salt" last night, and most of the aggressive fighting had been removed. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If you bring your family to dinner on Friday evenings, you get a discount at restaurants, which encourages parents to spend more time with their children. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I like the way they run things here. Solid system. And run by the same ruling family for most of the last 50 years- the original prime minister, Lee Kuan Yew, passed away only earlier this year. His son, Lee Hsien Yoong, is currently ruling the Republic. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">AND NOW BACK TO FRIDAY</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Today's agenda consisted only of recovery. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">If I'm being completely honest here, that amazing breakfast plate was brought to you by a fabulous hangover, courtesy of being reunited with my wonderful friend Emerson, after five years of separation and many, many countries between us. After last night, I already feel like I've seen enough to call it a successful trip. </span></div><div><br></div><div>We started at a fabulous tapas restaurant, followed by an exhilarating elevator ride to the 64th floor rooftop club, Altitude, and finally down into the Hyatt Regency's bar and lounge to join the hard working financier's for an early start to their weekends. I have no idea how I rallied for such a late night. Why I decided to take a sleeping pill for a three hour flight is BEYOND me. I was a walking zombie in Singapore's airport and hard pressed to get to bed early. I guess old friends just bring out the 22-year-old in us. </div><div><br></div><div>Anyway, with Emerson off to the office for a few hours, in a sort of walking zombie state himself and grumbling that he was too old for this too, after breakfast, I decided to go for a jog through Fort Canning Park across the street. I'm not sure how I didn't read more into the "fort" part of it. My legs weren't ready for this.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB4TJvO8EHdd7_I2izQ9vpJ0EwJHTY7FvgDNvb8IWsCeY0PHdR7HBcyUIphgpDz8DcUxfOrUGg-WIWGHxliCXKggiAgsA-XfSukXtwQ2VRPOmq_dealvlbpimiJJVZ3-BN9TWrQ_v0X3M/s640/blogger-image--1686505433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB4TJvO8EHdd7_I2izQ9vpJ0EwJHTY7FvgDNvb8IWsCeY0PHdR7HBcyUIphgpDz8DcUxfOrUGg-WIWGHxliCXKggiAgsA-XfSukXtwQ2VRPOmq_dealvlbpimiJJVZ3-BN9TWrQ_v0X3M/s640/blogger-image--1686505433.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Or this.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0u_QlRRR3qdxjBBa2kKUDJ4VCSMCni3UTrd_uygo25Th5IlAWTz7ZeXQ9KHQ9blSqgA2JTaHFQ555uLvlu_k8kXwUpbomrBqkc9zlJ6UWM2gegaTcL3zNyNbY5LCweGvM9ZDIUP6pDfY/s640/blogger-image--2144568670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0u_QlRRR3qdxjBBa2kKUDJ4VCSMCni3UTrd_uygo25Th5IlAWTz7ZeXQ9KHQ9blSqgA2JTaHFQ555uLvlu_k8kXwUpbomrBqkc9zlJ6UWM2gegaTcL3zNyNbY5LCweGvM9ZDIUP6pDfY/s640/blogger-image--2144568670.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">But I made it! </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Sort of. </font></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVYnT6uPXuA02TEl7YSvCHEOsOWWDpWuHuPfOw60RiHsH6xWC2U1Cmta3y4jPb-BPdCbk2UnBGI_TPpW_rvEnbtmRTDS4VF9BfmqEO18_aaduma2I5igGSyN6UtiLHhR66iRhVZytxaU/s640/blogger-image-681903453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVYnT6uPXuA02TEl7YSvCHEOsOWWDpWuHuPfOw60RiHsH6xWC2U1Cmta3y4jPb-BPdCbk2UnBGI_TPpW_rvEnbtmRTDS4VF9BfmqEO18_aaduma2I5igGSyN6UtiLHhR66iRhVZytxaU/s640/blogger-image-681903453.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">WOW, what an amazing fort! The trees! The trees are cah-razy beautiful.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimNi5eRSVpTFWJ_AKrsOXLsRcquZ4znxT38XHc5tMdhXs64izeo0fUueWlYX7mSLiqTfduNvj97zzvy7xLrGQlmh9HQ0oHp1h0hUpUD2942OTNmtMIz9TW47MtsUmN3ogC-XbIeQa97Wk/s640/blogger-image-284531110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimNi5eRSVpTFWJ_AKrsOXLsRcquZ4znxT38XHc5tMdhXs64izeo0fUueWlYX7mSLiqTfduNvj97zzvy7xLrGQlmh9HQ0oHp1h0hUpUD2942OTNmtMIz9TW47MtsUmN3ogC-XbIeQa97Wk/s640/blogger-image-284531110.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPZ7oPN7GWBQCebv1K9SipPyIGC1FjZiQd_ebyxSRHbYQIe78-Jb6AO_SUmu73k68zTeUhZWaiiL4N8j22sMCGFHAu8D6qRgP85b14TWZjPZAj_yCfr39hJsahVEOVtkweYFNElI2hx_E/s640/blogger-image--647103079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPZ7oPN7GWBQCebv1K9SipPyIGC1FjZiQd_ebyxSRHbYQIe78-Jb6AO_SUmu73k68zTeUhZWaiiL4N8j22sMCGFHAu8D6qRgP85b14TWZjPZAj_yCfr39hJsahVEOVtkweYFNElI2hx_E/s640/blogger-image--647103079.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-cx-vBSFDKWOAsTGIuih7TQOpUH9kE8U8OR-faAzuPxxZ3GveyVXgbEdg4z6sW5ILUdXooU8JbsdkotNjnkg7wnqLamuBKx2DFeasskaqbeWlm9M49WfCjVKrZh7w3KlBteE0kncZqA/s640/blogger-image-1723840984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-cx-vBSFDKWOAsTGIuih7TQOpUH9kE8U8OR-faAzuPxxZ3GveyVXgbEdg4z6sW5ILUdXooU8JbsdkotNjnkg7wnqLamuBKx2DFeasskaqbeWlm9M49WfCjVKrZh7w3KlBteE0kncZqA/s640/blogger-image-1723840984.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnb5hVeou8XS6x-IARrmST4uC-G6EBGb0KTMi_UEhkpci5GyVxkb_S-3fXaQjEjUDuS7fStCC8DjY081uGjWivnDR91lpUhtfU2ibqoR5bTzM5SwOZmOAJVxz1QAJR-Du169DMsiBGry4/s640/blogger-image--73127313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnb5hVeou8XS6x-IARrmST4uC-G6EBGb0KTMi_UEhkpci5GyVxkb_S-3fXaQjEjUDuS7fStCC8DjY081uGjWivnDR91lpUhtfU2ibqoR5bTzM5SwOZmOAJVxz1QAJR-Du169DMsiBGry4/s640/blogger-image--73127313.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX02UV2F0OswbysuFXbgXMJZ_7ulJZDi0RyTtkc-3tENU56ho0DMJW1Hq7QrPwC8Lx6rX_AfnrJg6IDXyqTjgMLOZ0wbaTG2WKJxUHszJpZJPoPJITtYHQoWTZqa_pMvSpXzXo4ajpp-8/s640/blogger-image--1523030997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX02UV2F0OswbysuFXbgXMJZ_7ulJZDi0RyTtkc-3tENU56ho0DMJW1Hq7QrPwC8Lx6rX_AfnrJg6IDXyqTjgMLOZ0wbaTG2WKJxUHszJpZJPoPJITtYHQoWTZqa_pMvSpXzXo4ajpp-8/s640/blogger-image--1523030997.jpg"></a></div></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div>I dragged myself back down the mountain, I mean, park and swam a few laps in the "lap pool".</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvV9_ZmzAkQIUxi0PhtryOIzqxiop3t_4K4XsJxRzXDOmXSgJBeSiO_stC44YrHAGm3wGCkrwXtupZs_3svnLJW6v38qixTk5DDAI0Vr32tWoAFNe8g2SsdZNl7T709LzeVrC7KHsjIv8/s640/blogger-image-367844356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvV9_ZmzAkQIUxi0PhtryOIzqxiop3t_4K4XsJxRzXDOmXSgJBeSiO_stC44YrHAGm3wGCkrwXtupZs_3svnLJW6v38qixTk5DDAI0Vr32tWoAFNe8g2SsdZNl7T709LzeVrC7KHsjIv8/s640/blogger-image-367844356.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>Not to be confused with the adjacent "community pool". </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4JiLkfbH4rH5D1dw8KUmyBU2Yafj4y5XTsmbpjR7oAVJxHLi2GuseNKHmjsH9mUpIkIa2msLfMZY-_xBENI5-UlOJ7KjNvJCyK0jZDCmp4M4f4CRRxNy472_UnIGa2mNr4eIWqSAqFk/s640/blogger-image--2011789864.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4JiLkfbH4rH5D1dw8KUmyBU2Yafj4y5XTsmbpjR7oAVJxHLi2GuseNKHmjsH9mUpIkIa2msLfMZY-_xBENI5-UlOJ7KjNvJCyK0jZDCmp4M4f4CRRxNy472_UnIGa2mNr4eIWqSAqFk/s640/blogger-image--2011789864.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Nice job, Emerson! ✔️</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmjl_6cNBrKZTzSWKT9WdcIiWC5UGI8VrM3sPOEazDl0GCKEu0sQWpRC11lh46hnwyVMQJTFjs0DK06oxrwtIq97044kSpTw2oTZVO8U2fsCK0kR2TdPAVnBzn3x6GBemLtaJz8cO8B50/s640/blogger-image--1726296437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmjl_6cNBrKZTzSWKT9WdcIiWC5UGI8VrM3sPOEazDl0GCKEu0sQWpRC11lh46hnwyVMQJTFjs0DK06oxrwtIq97044kSpTw2oTZVO8U2fsCK0kR2TdPAVnBzn3x6GBemLtaJz8cO8B50/s640/blogger-image--1726296437.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>And what better way to polish of a day of full-body-systems recovery than by drowning some dumpling's in chilies and soy sauce. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUm6VY-fV4qAUSCMAjcineuVTRrKkmT4y6Bxz0DjFveeC-TkPTE5W1U5jCEftjCG_s8hpAAU9qbCQHvubkI-9yjB_DeLJmLZ71NmanRB3oDruKGO0_J1_XEpY8e1llHZ-KEPXvgII6j1U/s640/blogger-image-33225599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUm6VY-fV4qAUSCMAjcineuVTRrKkmT4y6Bxz0DjFveeC-TkPTE5W1U5jCEftjCG_s8hpAAU9qbCQHvubkI-9yjB_DeLJmLZ71NmanRB3oDruKGO0_J1_XEpY8e1llHZ-KEPXvgII6j1U/s640/blogger-image-33225599.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sans alcohol, of course. Earl Grey Iced Tea, anyone? How DOES one create an ice cube shaped like a tennis ball?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZi_7OfdKxEUDS808aIqX_VMnn6sEDZdfsUOx-ZIPfT3e_mg-sdOjewkhC6bxcL0IXscJjeaTNRTg3w9GLnLaHmXuTQ1yMNgge3_q8MHfFUjl6aiOZqAKHdf2Osm9WMfg-ZRHzm0pAx0/s640/blogger-image-1033231693.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqZi_7OfdKxEUDS808aIqX_VMnn6sEDZdfsUOx-ZIPfT3e_mg-sdOjewkhC6bxcL0IXscJjeaTNRTg3w9GLnLaHmXuTQ1yMNgge3_q8MHfFUjl6aiOZqAKHdf2Osm9WMfg-ZRHzm0pAx0/s640/blogger-image-1033231693.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Behold. THE PORK BUN.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62d3JGKTSQJdMqdZeMazmb9fqiwrdTON4E4I0bGzYTQ0ENOIqXg04mpBBEdQyfj6evdIOUakd5GsdHGOpRS9GEBuCpJak5hxYhrCXifSf0e5lUII-H7YQISzo_oLtkrZAtz-c9GbaLIg/s640/blogger-image--1165694781.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62d3JGKTSQJdMqdZeMazmb9fqiwrdTON4E4I0bGzYTQ0ENOIqXg04mpBBEdQyfj6evdIOUakd5GsdHGOpRS9GEBuCpJak5hxYhrCXifSf0e5lUII-H7YQISzo_oLtkrZAtz-c9GbaLIg/s640/blogger-image--1165694781.jpg"></a></div><br></div>And some mango pudding to seal the deal. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVKQrGVa-niDZKjaCOriFiudLA22BVMwNBmqjiUW6TmuCHbNYLMbr-qBuAvqbeRdU12TEf98WWa0ikQmJ1eu31NTGQqAdK-Zey_W4HRCOh5z9-Vts12OmfH89qNsq8aiJTR0Gzy1ZKFs/s640/blogger-image--1331623711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVKQrGVa-niDZKjaCOriFiudLA22BVMwNBmqjiUW6TmuCHbNYLMbr-qBuAvqbeRdU12TEf98WWa0ikQmJ1eu31NTGQqAdK-Zey_W4HRCOh5z9-Vts12OmfH89qNsq8aiJTR0Gzy1ZKFs/s640/blogger-image--1331623711.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div><div>Let's try this again tomorrow, Singapore. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0River Valley Singapore1.298441 103.843156tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-55076599505888099872015-08-26T22:39:00.001-04:002015-08-26T22:39:26.826-04:00Chiangmai: This Isn't GoodbyeThis afternoon I'm flying to Singapore, and I absolutely don't want to leave this city! I think in order for someone to fall in love with a city, it has to have many elements that might make you happy as a person. So, for me, Chiangmai has so many. <div><br></div><div>There are the mountains. These preserved giants of serenity and mystery, and THESE mountains are dotted with hidden temples, where you can pop in and have a quiet moment with your Maker, with your inner self, and think about your life. </div><div><br></div><div>The motorbikes are so convenient, and quick. I'm so impatient, and who really likes public transportation anyway! You can buzz right from your house to any store, in no time. And you get to scoot to the front of the traffic line,too. </div><div><br></div><div>Thai people seem to keep to themselves. It's known as the Land of Smiles; but they don't walk around with unwarranted, over exerted and forced faces full of teeth. But, if you give any indication of a smile combined with direct eye contact, their faces LIGHT UP, like no return of a smile that I've ever seen. And then, suddenly, I understood the phrase.</div><div><br></div><div>There's a small city! Full of life, with everything you need. There are poor parts, there are rich parts, and it's all so close together. Quaint, convenient. </div><div><br></div><div>And, well, the weather. I don't mind bug bites, I don't mind humidity. I love the tropical weather. All day, any day. </div><div><br></div><div>I know I like it here because, well, I don't think I've done a single thing that friends have recommended to me. I'm only doing things that feel organic, with some help from Google. </div><div><br></div><div>The jet lag bug hit me hard again this morning. At 3am, in trying to force my circadian clock to adjust to the time zone, it would have none of it. I discovered the Nong Huak Hard Park last night, when taking my soothing laps around the old city on my bike. I decided I was going to go for a run in it this morning, but I knew it opened only at 8:30. I happened to read that older people practice tai chi in it during the wee hours, so at 5:00, I headed over and sure enough, all of the main gates were locked, except for a small two-foot section of gate where they would slip inside.</div><div><br></div><div>I parked, in the wrong spot, and figured a lap of the park was a little larger than a track, and decided to run 12 laps. Wow! I've never surfed, but I was absolutely as slippery as the waxed bottom of a board when I was finished. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnL8TV6KGrP5KNrX3vEEaOnlJzJutD3JjTJFhY1rXGaF7BKxydcIkplb-gQIWUwg0crp7cSZjpdvK7bfwMDegcHcOlu33pQxw8r4HlIJln_OCstMRo1tJydiWpoJl2BJWubg6VbpQEfs/s640/blogger-image-324060311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnL8TV6KGrP5KNrX3vEEaOnlJzJutD3JjTJFhY1rXGaF7BKxydcIkplb-gQIWUwg0crp7cSZjpdvK7bfwMDegcHcOlu33pQxw8r4HlIJln_OCstMRo1tJydiWpoJl2BJWubg6VbpQEfs/s640/blogger-image-324060311.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4D8kITcY9PD4WajDoqY9FDwy9AvC2WNpEP6wd0PDg2CO2jOmClpRrgHPMnNFakwl72wr2lZ4grixH77dD-o_d4AGfdcFa01mTDaPhQaGdgyLU_NgSOWjkXk03w6ka74LsbAKM8lWCqQ0/s640/blogger-image--1776647522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4D8kITcY9PD4WajDoqY9FDwy9AvC2WNpEP6wd0PDg2CO2jOmClpRrgHPMnNFakwl72wr2lZ4grixH77dD-o_d4AGfdcFa01mTDaPhQaGdgyLU_NgSOWjkXk03w6ka74LsbAKM8lWCqQ0/s640/blogger-image--1776647522.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhawg2SKDqYfBC5svFA4eDhsx0NEP0S_xRDXWMgeXepD-G6EUuKR5dUSh4DC6n560009EEQOr2I1qoaB-_3MEM8XLtflUub2zlliI7H5hbqjCHWvZhkanp9-rMeG5ow3mJ1kBLGORye-zU/s640/blogger-image-1919682639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhawg2SKDqYfBC5svFA4eDhsx0NEP0S_xRDXWMgeXepD-G6EUuKR5dUSh4DC6n560009EEQOr2I1qoaB-_3MEM8XLtflUub2zlliI7H5hbqjCHWvZhkanp9-rMeG5ow3mJ1kBLGORye-zU/s640/blogger-image-1919682639.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMAizrHKwC1b1jiE_kUL0hb16phUbmYszj8rrkb3zd9SREr92mhQqG-1Ieyt67NZo3AVS0qB0rQxGuUOnF8oOsRKhj8a64YzFcD2fpEEuQtdiZkhqbsIL8M_gxT2bvS_i_GcvwsO-8aEs/s640/blogger-image-1737891882.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMAizrHKwC1b1jiE_kUL0hb16phUbmYszj8rrkb3zd9SREr92mhQqG-1Ieyt67NZo3AVS0qB0rQxGuUOnF8oOsRKhj8a64YzFcD2fpEEuQtdiZkhqbsIL8M_gxT2bvS_i_GcvwsO-8aEs/s640/blogger-image-1737891882.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX74bUGyrSv89Du9jtvXcSg_Xbib6x9mKbz1upYZSPQK9W4bx0kbpdmqtWRWkbwYlVcZgHSdqO59ZqTD7fy4M9JiBJOJlytQOjXJVepRRJJ3YXTjdbgjGCxlbeeCeSGlfvN9sFUIYXPZU/s640/blogger-image-388210515.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX74bUGyrSv89Du9jtvXcSg_Xbib6x9mKbz1upYZSPQK9W4bx0kbpdmqtWRWkbwYlVcZgHSdqO59ZqTD7fy4M9JiBJOJlytQOjXJVepRRJJ3YXTjdbgjGCxlbeeCeSGlfvN9sFUIYXPZU/s640/blogger-image-388210515.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOeFc7fyW8TzN9aDwFlo-TWZZRHLpzozLPX3qfCBKF6k0EEMqY9Mr0rAuFHP5rUBhekTODgqPcPz9Y3QUAqzbxbFn8_HuFEh2vyfYB57DpVHz9cs_0x0kacfiFizUSNi8rjNTfheOYy3c/s640/blogger-image--396863085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOeFc7fyW8TzN9aDwFlo-TWZZRHLpzozLPX3qfCBKF6k0EEMqY9Mr0rAuFHP5rUBhekTODgqPcPz9Y3QUAqzbxbFn8_HuFEh2vyfYB57DpVHz9cs_0x0kacfiFizUSNi8rjNTfheOYy3c/s640/blogger-image--396863085.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I headed back to the coffee shop that I visited yesterday morning and talked to my Mom for about an hour on WhatsApp, swinging away on my hanging bench, singing to the pop music playing overhead, and planning our return trip here next year. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLOEkqR6hAnyMoVdEYVFFKyRw_LFAiRj5l5kwQjTRfUP7LhXnBQwMm_tqdevf1zQNcjuxgQ8bCQvS8qEW0_cFWzedVChMZEtCrzjZx7mif2Ns7MbgeeTOYQDDRp9cMZM7Ueg6DwHyb3J0/s640/blogger-image-1179329460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLOEkqR6hAnyMoVdEYVFFKyRw_LFAiRj5l5kwQjTRfUP7LhXnBQwMm_tqdevf1zQNcjuxgQ8bCQvS8qEW0_cFWzedVChMZEtCrzjZx7mif2Ns7MbgeeTOYQDDRp9cMZM7Ueg6DwHyb3J0/s640/blogger-image-1179329460.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm7kMsCKWm5xI1R2Bj1gubOZ0OBB_JcnmYYH5EehTG_C718TRVRkixjRAIPWgNimKUJbixAkvYkRbJ7kpKcMpQnWstHUmc65FcvE2xbbY6TQDtfJc_aObSmX1RkbRgo7CxZdShofsa614/s640/blogger-image-452303215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm7kMsCKWm5xI1R2Bj1gubOZ0OBB_JcnmYYH5EehTG_C718TRVRkixjRAIPWgNimKUJbixAkvYkRbJ7kpKcMpQnWstHUmc65FcvE2xbbY6TQDtfJc_aObSmX1RkbRgo7CxZdShofsa614/s640/blogger-image-452303215.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">At 7:30 I headed back to shower and was the first customer at Rustic & Blue, which I had scouted out the day before. I mean, eggs benedict, what??</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZnHtcuZ2weZuVAhxdw4F9Ze4RVRBibVmYzQ0A2fTPG43YWQI9uPpemtxvPclG2NPLTshlwa47eMJSWkBzmeDNmCZJYQtVjV0CazBGIM7WLpbpT8fF99C6WEZ9CWIVRaPjgPyAPLLQVw0/s640/blogger-image-1523110887.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZnHtcuZ2weZuVAhxdw4F9Ze4RVRBibVmYzQ0A2fTPG43YWQI9uPpemtxvPclG2NPLTshlwa47eMJSWkBzmeDNmCZJYQtVjV0CazBGIM7WLpbpT8fF99C6WEZ9CWIVRaPjgPyAPLLQVw0/s640/blogger-image-1523110887.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjja0iWZzqRDHVUlXyNJN2kZAcHAERrZ0zRJm9BMvG2HhRQf5JIErT7gC8XN4w2J3u1HaIrlL1AvVVISKvqwp-7vdqo8_Lfo0oPGuzmH-6ytah-dmbgUN2huvgc3HvGhafF1RMjSclEJoE/s640/blogger-image--1710263655.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjja0iWZzqRDHVUlXyNJN2kZAcHAERrZ0zRJm9BMvG2HhRQf5JIErT7gC8XN4w2J3u1HaIrlL1AvVVISKvqwp-7vdqo8_Lfo0oPGuzmH-6ytah-dmbgUN2huvgc3HvGhafF1RMjSclEJoE/s640/blogger-image--1710263655.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm going to attempt to get these nails done, pack up, return the bike (in tears) and head to the airport! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">See you in Singapore! </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-38408146567081519252015-08-26T20:24:00.001-04:002015-08-27T00:55:39.719-04:00Chiangmai<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Chiangmai is a very likable city. You'd know it even before you set foot in it; your flight drops you over the greenest, mountainous terrain you'd have seen since you arrived in Thailand.</span></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi33dM4pd7UygkeCkxwFlixcovnz9PCnb63AcftyawsbpNmhWGfhpcr_p3zg4-bpZvRBYxigQOsXy35GdNzW_L2ANaCQUm8fJEiO-wTBskoXkvhTWomzxRwajB6GSNed-M1DzUIqxlBteY/s640/blogger-image-853271502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi33dM4pd7UygkeCkxwFlixcovnz9PCnb63AcftyawsbpNmhWGfhpcr_p3zg4-bpZvRBYxigQOsXy35GdNzW_L2ANaCQUm8fJEiO-wTBskoXkvhTWomzxRwajB6GSNed-M1DzUIqxlBteY/s640/blogger-image-853271502.jpg"></a></div><br></div>But oh, even before Chiangmai, look at the sunrise as we flew, hours earlier, into Bangkok. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROS7RNJGt1KALcurY1H6YjuWWFnA3eOgniPnTr4AWMQKLIoV-z5CxLIF0WOcNhobNg60YzyOaMEXRQ2FTj07IxOURxx9MAzDx7TZ9TFzM6w_t6kIUUpOAdE6zmP_hLa-Ge4q-EqPPupg/s640/blogger-image--1660637929.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROS7RNJGt1KALcurY1H6YjuWWFnA3eOgniPnTr4AWMQKLIoV-z5CxLIF0WOcNhobNg60YzyOaMEXRQ2FTj07IxOURxx9MAzDx7TZ9TFzM6w_t6kIUUpOAdE6zmP_hLa-Ge4q-EqPPupg/s640/blogger-image--1660637929.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I felt good when I finally reached the end of my 20-hour journey, and Rebeccah's smiling face in front of Starbucks at the airport was an extremely welcome sight. She's my AirBnB host, hailing all the way from exotic Washington, DC. She settled me into my apartment, located just outside the Old City. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRDKP50sGG38rFgzcs8GX7DQ4p9MSj7kyrkDuBn2Dgu9-fWiP1ttOHJQw6_vf_aLShS2223ydfpxnM-CN7YeLKc2N_a46-Hz45X5nDjThuqSvYUmZtbCnPPLMWEqB6x-e8pV1MLI8dwWY/s640/blogger-image-1427850303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRDKP50sGG38rFgzcs8GX7DQ4p9MSj7kyrkDuBn2Dgu9-fWiP1ttOHJQw6_vf_aLShS2223ydfpxnM-CN7YeLKc2N_a46-Hz45X5nDjThuqSvYUmZtbCnPPLMWEqB6x-e8pV1MLI8dwWY/s640/blogger-image-1427850303.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div>I'm glad I'm outside of the Old City. It's so intense in there. After I unpacked my bags, I headed down the street and into the Old City, immediately becoming annoyed that I had pretty much no clue as to what I was doing. I didn't research any of the Wats - heck, I didn't even actually know what a Wat was besides a temple. And my feet were so so sore from wearing beautiful, and completely impractical sandals since I left NYC. So I decided ... I was going to rent a MOTORBIKE! Here she is!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3ZwQrhYF9qa2SerejMFww-VKcG84Bi7rFt6XGG5QnHY6zXjzs77DVxrxdWayHtODCBkkAyAhZfb6TJQGSlt2rWK0gsyukJ46762qsrk0sALJZUlyt6xo0pkOa56WK05VfvWus2NgjYY/s640/blogger-image-925610403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3ZwQrhYF9qa2SerejMFww-VKcG84Bi7rFt6XGG5QnHY6zXjzs77DVxrxdWayHtODCBkkAyAhZfb6TJQGSlt2rWK0gsyukJ46762qsrk0sALJZUlyt6xo0pkOa56WK05VfvWus2NgjYY/s640/blogger-image-925610403.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfuPutYCi4KHix3QV91VeT0aVzpkfHWd3JrFwZ-vOam2rbpxWknHQoPkhFfXrW6QBJZ7PsuGRjoxvtHOZRt622tQqxL7KK4NgREFH0vY_7HvdDQ52JTi0rz111F1uDTozLiUMOPYX9CBw/s640/blogger-image-1168125586.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfuPutYCi4KHix3QV91VeT0aVzpkfHWd3JrFwZ-vOam2rbpxWknHQoPkhFfXrW6QBJZ7PsuGRjoxvtHOZRt622tQqxL7KK4NgREFH0vY_7HvdDQ52JTi0rz111F1uDTozLiUMOPYX9CBw/s640/blogger-image-1168125586.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The sweet lady who gave it to me, spoke maybe five words of English and gave me a six-second tutorial on how to ride it. 400 baht got me two days with this little hot rod. The last words she said to me as I struggled to balance myself on it were, "Madame? Slow." Pssshhhhh. Please, lady, I got this.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4tvEJQooxepumn1vXoTSdA4sOqZVfEAOoUHdr2pQ2XiAwtn4-7d-7TCFVgHiQIbFrMTwNOM_zuom_S0UobJhvjwoNu7o_PeoSvHioc4K9b1J17NrLTwzMIcBw6nMfPxKC1fe4iYi7Iow/s640/blogger-image-390980626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4tvEJQooxepumn1vXoTSdA4sOqZVfEAOoUHdr2pQ2XiAwtn4-7d-7TCFVgHiQIbFrMTwNOM_zuom_S0UobJhvjwoNu7o_PeoSvHioc4K9b1J17NrLTwzMIcBw6nMfPxKC1fe4iYi7Iow/s640/blogger-image-390980626.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">No, I didn't get it. The store was set smack in the intersection of one of the gates from the main road. I puttered into traffic - it was completely terrifying- and noticed the gas tank was almost empty. I tried to pull in to a 7/11 and ran smack into a car. Why the accelerator and brake are operated by the same hand makes absolutely NO sense to me, but whatever. The Thai's seemed to be entertained and asked if I was OK. This motorbike was the best part about the day. I would highly recommend staying outside the Old City and investing in a motorbike.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I drove around for a while and decided I was going to conquer the mountains that I'd just flew over. As I set out of town, I realized my swollen toes were now actually burning from overexposure to the tropical sun and headed back to the apartment for sunblock. Of course I missed my turn several times, this driving on the other side of the road and crazy loop and u-turn system was exhausting. I felt like I was in a biker posse. All the motorbikes weave in and out of the cars and sit at the very front of the traffic light line. I tried to keep up - but that pink helmet and electric yellow bike just screams tourist. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Back at the apartment, I decided enough was enough. An ex-pat told me that they're not supposed to serve alcohol between 1 - 5pm, but the Corner Bistro would have something for me. And Chang beers they had. Across the street was a massage parlor and, well, when in Thailand! I almost fell asleep. I finally retired upstairs and slept for two hours. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNMUGEdAVifpXzrTL0SplRXO7yIHH0YanWD_kbJldWNwA-RKmAf_y3uA0u0ZLnlWsJWWQdt8hLzRrQgpvqMrcAsuJ_2-u14a2mH8phLnmiZnoO3dAJbG_8C0Z9JKqlURykYlEOsJqXGw/s640/blogger-image-609485185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNMUGEdAVifpXzrTL0SplRXO7yIHH0YanWD_kbJldWNwA-RKmAf_y3uA0u0ZLnlWsJWWQdt8hLzRrQgpvqMrcAsuJ_2-u14a2mH8phLnmiZnoO3dAJbG_8C0Z9JKqlURykYlEOsJqXGw/s640/blogger-image-609485185.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Lo and behold, my aunt has a dear friend who lives in Chiangmai, hailing from the exotic city of Baltimore, and he took me to an incredible Thai restaurant. The food was so spicy that I had maybe ten bites and was done. I took him out for a beer at a trendy spot on the main strip. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-d_Oh_qCtFKVxOXOINecL8y_cuSm-_pPrRQAsbHwrUaEbXuCKwHKgCndhNM-1fbhtz92ZWE4_dw0Xj4tGD53j_h8R-o3scCGWo_eo9eNfuzT-iev4KukBqXEb2tHwxVS-DYGhoRvGZNc/s640/blogger-image--366623184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-d_Oh_qCtFKVxOXOINecL8y_cuSm-_pPrRQAsbHwrUaEbXuCKwHKgCndhNM-1fbhtz92ZWE4_dw0Xj4tGD53j_h8R-o3scCGWo_eo9eNfuzT-iev4KukBqXEb2tHwxVS-DYGhoRvGZNc/s640/blogger-image--366623184.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">He talked to me about the "one key" lifestyle. You know your life is simple, when all you need to carry around is your car key. Chiangmai is so safe he doesn't lock his house door. He's an (very successful!) entrepreneur and doesn't hold keys to an office. Sounds like something we should all sign up for. He also taught me this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvL6YFJ0I-wFcpCqr_LQli6IbNWMxEWI0DhZ_wkT8Yjp81M3xLPl3cI5GoQCDq2rLCaKFx2902Y6JIiR33h1H7p8FLPjOPL370V4jqCG-Z_UGxUQkAc-2LSYaM0wcIMXrcA5CYLhHQ_-4/s640/blogger-image-1574014405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvL6YFJ0I-wFcpCqr_LQli6IbNWMxEWI0DhZ_wkT8Yjp81M3xLPl3cI5GoQCDq2rLCaKFx2902Y6JIiR33h1H7p8FLPjOPL370V4jqCG-Z_UGxUQkAc-2LSYaM0wcIMXrcA5CYLhHQ_-4/s640/blogger-image-1574014405.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I got home around 11pm and was planning on going back out for some nightlife, but my two beers and the jet lag hit me hard and I crashed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">...only to spring WIDE AWAKE at 4:30 in the morning. Fortunately, Doi Suthep opened at 5:30am, and hearing that the 45-minute, windy mountain road journey could be tricky, I decided I'd rather do it with less cars than more on the road. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Quite awkwardly, the only place I could find open at that hour for a spot of breakfast was a 24-hour Subway. That iced coffee and BMT were an interesting way to fuel up for the trip.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The ride was exhilarating. Whizzing along the steep, windy road, I passed a surprising number of sport bikers who clearly preferred the lighter trafficked and cooler weathered, wee hours like myself. The higher I got, the colder it became. I was shivering about an hour into the ride. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzWgE5lyqWz798GLH4_d9aaoo7RqCEmnn0TUYdIxCq1UonlMaiF3Cjka6JO0Jjm3FJgpW-TKsL48tdDGEcf4zUjHC4wdJU2IC0uQaUwqE33xb0oIblbMVmyOoeBWB9InF3JVbf0QJlBz4/s640/blogger-image-598162675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzWgE5lyqWz798GLH4_d9aaoo7RqCEmnn0TUYdIxCq1UonlMaiF3Cjka6JO0Jjm3FJgpW-TKsL48tdDGEcf4zUjHC4wdJU2IC0uQaUwqE33xb0oIblbMVmyOoeBWB9InF3JVbf0QJlBz4/s640/blogger-image-598162675.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I pulled into the first overlook. It took my breath away. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUjCD_WHbi_pBW3Rj4cx5NYDWnuS5ilXb9FkuEt5e_Qpd1-Pyzcn2xNIrUi5YyeQjSR_k_PKP2irwI6_IB7yJb0sGfTdQ41sM-cS3LBKLtRozkTUEqUKZMMs97c-W1Kis1o6HZCuVum4/s640/blogger-image--1692790675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUjCD_WHbi_pBW3Rj4cx5NYDWnuS5ilXb9FkuEt5e_Qpd1-Pyzcn2xNIrUi5YyeQjSR_k_PKP2irwI6_IB7yJb0sGfTdQ41sM-cS3LBKLtRozkTUEqUKZMMs97c-W1Kis1o6HZCuVum4/s640/blogger-image--1692790675.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">All of the road signs were in Thai! I had no idea how far up to drive. When I finally reached what seemed to be the top of the mountain, I saw a sign for a campground. "Dangerous road, use horn, proceed with caution." I couldn't resist. I drove for another several miles, passing wild dogs, a strolling monk, and a family-stuffed pickup truck. The campground was closed for the season, but I took a moment to finish my iced coffee and stroll around. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRtU42LNd9ZYEaXRlh_3c8GlCXzBj6h2pqhRU0iuRIAd07gzrD8-vi7pRRWWS5zheNePJ7NPptbY0UJShFNtVEuynU-qiOBlvnw0idZe_S6gdFwMShhZHqbP5y9ElDhBChlpfyx2e_-0/s640/blogger-image-915780886.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRtU42LNd9ZYEaXRlh_3c8GlCXzBj6h2pqhRU0iuRIAd07gzrD8-vi7pRRWWS5zheNePJ7NPptbY0UJShFNtVEuynU-qiOBlvnw0idZe_S6gdFwMShhZHqbP5y9ElDhBChlpfyx2e_-0/s640/blogger-image-915780886.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0lZSP5UtPe0SkS0ShYubwUYH5plldfY1IgWBfVm_JEH2RccDiYp_xQMaB5-HjzPVQLW_iSn2SRdaJ_hh77PkgqpMUCg_uUDoVsm_6zc35fyyH9TVnKMXmL9QUd1P5-wUB1LCjPvmYqU/s640/blogger-image--1702610998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0lZSP5UtPe0SkS0ShYubwUYH5plldfY1IgWBfVm_JEH2RccDiYp_xQMaB5-HjzPVQLW_iSn2SRdaJ_hh77PkgqpMUCg_uUDoVsm_6zc35fyyH9TVnKMXmL9QUd1P5-wUB1LCjPvmYqU/s640/blogger-image--1702610998.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXD3K0GKttvb3J514FR_DrrLPdZMkrQKoW2bcxALi_7X1_sgBNYgA2SwIYqEfuDbLmO_xi181LMKWqRBwdtgUgbypjfFqJ4p8TEF3F8OZWlCv5gskWZaz9f8BRvCKvJhF-UKAs_qFELE/s640/blogger-image--509470935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXD3K0GKttvb3J514FR_DrrLPdZMkrQKoW2bcxALi_7X1_sgBNYgA2SwIYqEfuDbLmO_xi181LMKWqRBwdtgUgbypjfFqJ4p8TEF3F8OZWlCv5gskWZaz9f8BRvCKvJhF-UKAs_qFELE/s640/blogger-image--509470935.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I headed back down, stopped in a local village for more gasoline, provided in a glass jar by an old lady in a hut, and asked three different people how to get to Doi Suthep. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oh, and I side-barred to listen to the roosters waking up the valley.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivW4W5nzFl5CmK9uBoB8OH3hOhzFTeH82MIyGJroN-lM3dlo2aXRJ7h5M7iOzTQlzg87gMUtQD0etFuVEkS6mlNJyVywoUWjMgM0KFfKFp3R2w8uzBGrwcD5_WDAlev2briKlFavW3Whc/s640/blogger-image--1100064569.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivW4W5nzFl5CmK9uBoB8OH3hOhzFTeH82MIyGJroN-lM3dlo2aXRJ7h5M7iOzTQlzg87gMUtQD0etFuVEkS6mlNJyVywoUWjMgM0KFfKFp3R2w8uzBGrwcD5_WDAlev2briKlFavW3Whc/s640/blogger-image--1100064569.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Finally ...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1-wkBnUX7LLx4z3tAxoQOECC1Jt0nGSyWep5HuRTPvCI7tnIy4uwhZV7zLa_c4xXdNhTndCrEaOuzA-qmlyfTktSB79dBIDD_s2lx2VLubOwA3YJannketNFbmctDUaoXvw0XtLDM10/s640/blogger-image--533952417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1-wkBnUX7LLx4z3tAxoQOECC1Jt0nGSyWep5HuRTPvCI7tnIy4uwhZV7zLa_c4xXdNhTndCrEaOuzA-qmlyfTktSB79dBIDD_s2lx2VLubOwA3YJannketNFbmctDUaoXvw0XtLDM10/s640/blogger-image--533952417.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU4B-cpBnC3FssZMEXUa9fren3_yAMbR409DonXbrPDfIfqLChcqu85teSQ_6v6Xtpblgyb5wqk_9lu4C8pMGF12JrXljasJhCRtFSINVzXpChJvSfj4GsiZiTxgPFA8wVEu3XtiiavqM/s640/blogger-image-1939588695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU4B-cpBnC3FssZMEXUa9fren3_yAMbR409DonXbrPDfIfqLChcqu85teSQ_6v6Xtpblgyb5wqk_9lu4C8pMGF12JrXljasJhCRtFSINVzXpChJvSfj4GsiZiTxgPFA8wVEu3XtiiavqM/s640/blogger-image-1939588695.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRXSoCWjek5GEN5zgrR1nX5QITytvPZ756T05Wtw4orrjQTMyYO-HaVAEzRMl02WPuL6_nkIGN9o3hnbEIBy7hbYKMUeBZbC7e-0PKK3PVPPipVXarzXwQ90VzE3WSzXxfKT8NHd-6tQ/s640/blogger-image-487775807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRXSoCWjek5GEN5zgrR1nX5QITytvPZ756T05Wtw4orrjQTMyYO-HaVAEzRMl02WPuL6_nkIGN9o3hnbEIBy7hbYKMUeBZbC7e-0PKK3PVPPipVXarzXwQ90VzE3WSzXxfKT8NHd-6tQ/s640/blogger-image-487775807.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZW5J7GNrwHFr3gjWt7AxxhmeZHeluAE6B2gH5lkEBBbT4cMo0GDwCOUlg3YS5u-cJSYarhORVVvvsC527JVweu5B-Jrk-_9cy4y4p_0-znl4JzKGnkC3sYW0LpbarvRkU1CW7ws29XI/s640/blogger-image-1800531141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZW5J7GNrwHFr3gjWt7AxxhmeZHeluAE6B2gH5lkEBBbT4cMo0GDwCOUlg3YS5u-cJSYarhORVVvvsC527JVweu5B-Jrk-_9cy4y4p_0-znl4JzKGnkC3sYW0LpbarvRkU1CW7ws29XI/s640/blogger-image-1800531141.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV97kfWAtJNByt4uZoC18f-4GKJnrlXIVqbK-m-zQPrrlzRFEt3c-DhW9sW15RH_wS0KvUc3fw2SIlSiMkeCBgbPsmv9H4-31VBcT7OIlGxMcr-PaySfGTXt9XkQEvorPkk8jQHJYiHHg/s640/blogger-image--1277428673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV97kfWAtJNByt4uZoC18f-4GKJnrlXIVqbK-m-zQPrrlzRFEt3c-DhW9sW15RH_wS0KvUc3fw2SIlSiMkeCBgbPsmv9H4-31VBcT7OIlGxMcr-PaySfGTXt9XkQEvorPkk8jQHJYiHHg/s640/blogger-image--1277428673.jpg"></a></div><br></div>It was only 8:30am, the tourist rush hadn't began. It was beautiful. I found a Buddha, knelt and prayed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The road home was easier, faster. I side barred into this seemingly abandoned guy too, and had a really emotional chat with God. I mean, everyone needs to do this at some point in their lives. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYCJKmJItxhEic10yzTIIQqmO60KD78te1_C2QPQ0g2_NWC0oyZzwV6iM-m2SvRrNy3Bu5JjCsKNfsvauGx5GpSUsN91f5j3FqS4xJhkPyhu90AIw0lWh5dXJJgzM-i1njhDVVmC4kJ-o/s640/blogger-image--451411981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYCJKmJItxhEic10yzTIIQqmO60KD78te1_C2QPQ0g2_NWC0oyZzwV6iM-m2SvRrNy3Bu5JjCsKNfsvauGx5GpSUsN91f5j3FqS4xJhkPyhu90AIw0lWh5dXJJgzM-i1njhDVVmC4kJ-o/s640/blogger-image--451411981.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqapvnywXStycWUN28B2qi3i17McM2YonZH4zofQoUrLwPFV7aK2cok5Llc_Nun20Ihyphenhyphen0R4hIqWHF7eZF7JkSWTQ3_Pp9XLPgv4Yq9GQ_YT9hcMzUyz4Km1IYQpN5YOkWKs0A64PuEBw/s640/blogger-image--1773634160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqapvnywXStycWUN28B2qi3i17McM2YonZH4zofQoUrLwPFV7aK2cok5Llc_Nun20Ihyphenhyphen0R4hIqWHF7eZF7JkSWTQ3_Pp9XLPgv4Yq9GQ_YT9hcMzUyz4Km1IYQpN5YOkWKs0A64PuEBw/s640/blogger-image--1773634160.jpg"></a></div><br></div>I missed a turn into the Old City, again and ended up on the east side. I deserved this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUpeJGz5oApwN-aZIzt_224XZlFwnEf05m0JAlHLgxFYFNX_hTYGAkhhPx1z0WlweV_9OhenHVJw_0bFRV-sHMZZwie0qXVVUjiEtmVQRoI9dpOiQ1LXJOWMNDnQKwm6v8P0ODUuPRdiQ/s640/blogger-image-369557325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUpeJGz5oApwN-aZIzt_224XZlFwnEf05m0JAlHLgxFYFNX_hTYGAkhhPx1z0WlweV_9OhenHVJw_0bFRV-sHMZZwie0qXVVUjiEtmVQRoI9dpOiQ1LXJOWMNDnQKwm6v8P0ODUuPRdiQ/s640/blogger-image-369557325.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And Googled a nice lunch spot on the river, and treated myself to some real Pad Thai. (What IS it about vacation that spawns so many "I deserve this" moments?)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1DteFvGN3GPvAwNksM2YnnY3C9xFAFnC0jZP5uhPBohzjjQCtpOQI5lB0bnoKvh5klhkq2EjcuXDN4gUeJRyCzgwLeSyVK6UzzZbkDZo-5U2u4riFYkCnHytRyPYKCOOdfLLFOKRcmY/s640/blogger-image-1451046386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1DteFvGN3GPvAwNksM2YnnY3C9xFAFnC0jZP5uhPBohzjjQCtpOQI5lB0bnoKvh5klhkq2EjcuXDN4gUeJRyCzgwLeSyVK6UzzZbkDZo-5U2u4riFYkCnHytRyPYKCOOdfLLFOKRcmY/s640/blogger-image-1451046386.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTcxsPrwiMWSg11yq1-OwV6hyyBflSsmr1v_8OkBc9p2K0tmpgpmaQII7jfIAYhbmU941tZFU6ESlhkHb1QTank-osuDalsDFFPj0sRsLaiCme5zzBoKR4XfoN7T3f4AO3qjQLyTqJDWI/s640/blogger-image--555080673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTcxsPrwiMWSg11yq1-OwV6hyyBflSsmr1v_8OkBc9p2K0tmpgpmaQII7jfIAYhbmU941tZFU6ESlhkHb1QTank-osuDalsDFFPj0sRsLaiCme5zzBoKR4XfoN7T3f4AO3qjQLyTqJDWI/s640/blogger-image--555080673.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I napped for four hours after all of that. An iced espresso from across the street woke me up a bit, and here I sit watching the sunset. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnKwOU8O3tEgNHMV9ybpjeoFeh-lT6fsN-JG3wdCqhc9oRF29pUNwV3CutYHcGduTR_keanakFHKoPCaotseSGkvHVVaY7Q6xGptZ3MLqy_Dr3YsnLNIIwk_AVurEjgub_dOD_aAIh7U/s640/blogger-image-1479803399.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnKwOU8O3tEgNHMV9ybpjeoFeh-lT6fsN-JG3wdCqhc9oRF29pUNwV3CutYHcGduTR_keanakFHKoPCaotseSGkvHVVaY7Q6xGptZ3MLqy_Dr3YsnLNIIwk_AVurEjgub_dOD_aAIh7U/s640/blogger-image-1479803399.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Now, let's go enjoy our last night in Chiangmai!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div><br></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-53675043913609974722014-12-29T14:08:00.001-05:002014-12-29T14:14:07.351-05:00Finding Strength in RecoverySo, I haven't been participating in any "high impact" activities for a solid four months now; the longest I've withdrawn involuntarily from my usual running/soccer lifestyle. I wrecked a ligament in my tendon in the final weeks of Summer 2014 indoor soccer, from overuse between my two soccer teams and two volleyball teams, and the blatant disregard for its subtle hints that I should take it easy. I can even remember the one kick that ruined me. I was unable to take stairs without wincing, unable to walk without limping; this was enough for me to realize I had to simply stop for a while. Never in my entire athletic life have I had an injury that's put me on the bench for more than one week or two. I realize how lucky I've been, and I realize that I sorta, kinda, maybe had this coming.<br />
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I went to an orthopedist, who told me no bones had been broken, simply that a ligament had been torn. Should I have gone to physical therapy? Yes. Did I? Nah. I used a different kind of therapy.<br />
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I rested it, iced it. I was the girl wearing thick socks and tennis shoes to, at and from work as if they were regular work shoes. I felt sorry for myself for a little while too. I also realized how lucky I was to never have wrecked myself during my glory days on the soccer field in high school and college. Straight up, injuries suck. But they're also important. A lot of mental strength, patience and self-determination are born from life's little ways of forcing you to slow down. <br />
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When my body couldn't scream at me any louder to get it out and active again, I bought a new bathing suit and goggles, and headed up to the NY Health and Racquet Club locations that held a pool, at 23rd Street. At home, I'd watch YouTube videos and recall what it was to smoothly execute a flip turn, and the proper freestyle breathing techniques. I started visiting the teeny, crowded, always-a-wait pool two nights a week. I wished I was back in Miami, doing laps here instead.<br />
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But what can you do. I was able to swim 30 minutes straight, without stopping, quite easily. Swimming's a very lonely sport. No wonder I never lasted long with it in high school. But, I was incredibly lucky to have this rehabilitating activity to keep my heart rate up and my muscles loose during my otherwise inactive days and nights.<br />
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I nervously gave myself two or three days on the slopes, protected in my ACE wrap in my snowboarding boot. It did alright until one or two really tough, tight turns (inevitably due to the fact that the crew took one trail and I had accidentally started down a different one, and was trying to redirect myself), at which point I'd have to call it a day. This was NOT the time to push my ankle.<br />
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Maybe now that the Christmas hullabaloo's died down, or the fact that I just turned 30, or because it's going to be 2015 any day now, I decided it's time to get back out there. I have excellent range of motion, and no pain when I walk or climb stairs. I popped into the gym at lunch today and after 20 minutes of stretching, cautiously approached the cross trainer. I set it on a flat grade and only pressed my resistance up to about a 6. I "skied" it out for about ten minutes then climbed up on a treadmill.<br />
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I was actually scared of it. I felt like it was going to swallow me whole, like I wouldn't have control over how fast it was going. That my ankle would remember what running feels like and tighten up, or give out. I wished the treads were softer, or had a little more bounce in them. I can imagine it's a similar feeling for anyone starting a weight loss program, or a training regimen. You're filled with doubt. You're filled with fear. Well... this is all I have to say about that:<br />
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<i>There are four ways you can handle fear. You can go over it, under it or around it. But if you are ever to put fear behind you, you must walk straight through it. Once you put fear behind you, leave it there.</i><br />
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I walked for a minute at 4.0mph then upped it to 6.2mph and jogged for nine minutes.<br />
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...without pain!!! I trotted along, and slowly, every muscle in my lower legs, my abs, woke up. They waved and said, "Oh, hiiiiii! Welcome back, girlfriend! We missed you!" It felt incredible. I'd never doubted myself, or the strength of my body like I did today. I felt ashamed, embarrassed. I'd never dealt with recovering from an injury before. My experience is so minor compared to people who come back from crazy accidents. They are hero's to me. So here I go... baby steps. Without fear.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-17713086449270185782014-08-13T23:05:00.000-04:002014-11-03T19:58:25.696-05:00Four Types of Strength<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I love those funny e-cards. They keep things real. I came across one the other day that made me consider what it means to be strong, and how many different types of strength there are.<br />
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So I'll touch on four that I completely categorized, and made up, tonight.<br />
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<b>1.</b> <b>Physical Strength.</b> You push through an obstacle because you can tangibly see your immediate goal. There's no blind hope, no leap of faith. You can see, smell, taste the finish line.<br />
<ul>
<li>You see an opening in the closing subway doors. You jam your hands inside and rip those doors apart to make it to your 7:30 a.m. meeting on time. (I take the NYC subway for 40 minutes, twice a day, so I tend to reference it a lot.)</li>
<li>You carry the last of your nine, plastic (just kidding, go green, don't use plastic) grocery bags on your pinky finger because you'd rather cut off your circulation than go back to the car for a second trip. </li>
<li>You find a way to make it another 30 minutes in the bedroom when you could be getting sleep before your five back-to-back meetings tomorrow morning because, well, because.</li>
<li>And because sometimes you just need a darn King Cone:</li>
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<b>2. Mental Strength. </b> This is when cognitive attributes help you prepare for, get through, or recover from tough situations.</div>
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<li><span style="text-align: center;">We rehearse our speeches and wear lucky underwear so we don't blow it in front of a room of suits.</span></li>
<li>We tell ourselves we WILL survive the ice bath at Tough Mudder.</li>
<li>We work out, especially when we don't want to, so we can help put off osteoporosis and heart disease for as long as possible. </li>
<li>We soldier through moments when we just want to collapse, and cry our eyes out, because we remember that tomorrow's sun will rise, and we can start over.</li>
</ul>
<b>3. Character Strength. </b>We all know what this is. We're lucky to have the opportunity to either witness or exhibit these beautiful, life moments each day. They can be as frequent or as spaced as you like. It's those moments when you have a choice, to do the right thing, the humble thing, the necessary thing, whether quiet or loud, to make a situation right.<br />
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<li><span style="text-align: center;">You give your morning train seat up for an elderly, overweight, handicapped, pregnant, bag-laden or child-scuttling person on the subway. (Yes, those are pretty much the six people for which you MUST give up your seat. No excuses. Just do it.)</span></li>
<li>You take the high road. Swallowing what you really want to say and, instead, confidently displaying tact and grace to amend an otherwise hostile situation.</li>
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<b>4. The "You" Strength. </b>There's no one else in the world like you. And there are moments when you'll do something incredibly strong, and probably even surprise yourself, not because it was the pre-meditated "right thing" to do, or because you'd seen someone do it before, or because you knew you had it inside of you. You didn't do it for power or attention. It's an instinct, that, if asked to explain afterwards, you'd fumble over phrases like, "I don't know, man" or "Just did what I had to do".<br />
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I leave examples of the "You" strength to your imagination; to the little, heroic moments that you've had in your own life. The personal and public battles that you've won. Or even the ones that you've lost, but guess what? You learned. You know what they are. Those are the most satisfying moments.</div>
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Life's not meant to be wasted. Go surprise yourself. "You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice."</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-91083214212884517192014-07-28T23:37:00.000-04:002014-11-03T20:01:17.856-05:00The Power of Music"Music only makes me stronger."<br />
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I almost titled this blog, "A Terrible Run". Because that's how it started out. Tonight was an incredible evening for New York City. Cool, calm, quiet for a Monday. I'd just come out of an hour and a half of ping-pong with my impressively-talented-on-the-table Italian friend (play with the best if you want to improve!), and I wasn't ready to call it quits for the evening, as I mosied home from the 116th subway stop. Late summertime in New York City is absolutely fabulous. And up by where I live, next to Riverside and Sakura parks, there's never a shortage of dogs and their owners, new parents with their baby strollers, and oh, of course, the ever-inspiring runners and walkers who are indulging in every ounce of non-gym-time before the summer finally shuts its doors. I trounced into my apartment, semi-folded my work clothes back into their corners, grabbed my new favorite Nike "Miles Ahead, Worries Behind" tank, training shorts, headphones and headed out.<br />
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Within a few steps, the ankle that I'd destroyed in soccer last Thursday night, huffed, puffed and moaned at me that this run wasn't going to happen. I limped through my first two blocks, convinced that I would push through it. What did I do? I turned up my music. Should I have been running? Nope. Does loud music cause long term damage to your inner ears? Yep. Was I going to resist a beautiful night out on the Hudson River? NOPE.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't run this late on unlit paths. Like I did.</td></tr>
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Wow, this city. Well, OK, so that's actually Jersey that you see. But, you know what I mean. Limping along, I wasn't sure which direction to go. I ended up running from 130th Street, down the water's edge to 96th street and back up through Riverside Park. As I usually do in races as well, my body naturally starts to run faster and faster once I've reached my halfway point. When my music is pumping, I stop listening to my body and concentrate on the instruments composing the song. Since most of my workout music is house and techno beats, there's not too much to dissect, but focusing on each measure of music takes my mind off of how far I have left to run.<br />
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The paths through Riverside Park are open and breezy. Local security patrol the paths, but in remembering those horrific stories of runners being attacked in NY parks, well in ANY park ever for that matter, I ran with my car key between my pointer and middle fingers, ready to mercilessly stab it into an attacker's neck. (Hey, you can never be too careful.) By the time I made it up to 116th street, I was audibly panting and moaning, practically dry heaving. My ankle was killing me, and I had to stop for traffic lights to cross through Columbia University. But I couldn't stop. The music was driving me. I wanted to run faster and faster. I sprinted across campus and finally slowed down about a block from where my car was parked on Morningside Drive (New Yorkers have to move their car four times a week to opposite sides of the street for the street sweepers.) It ended up being just over 4.5 miles-not bad for a Monday! Best of all, I could go guiltlessly hoark down some pasta and dark chocolate.</div>
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The funny thing is that my soundtrack tonight was my slower music. I remember the first time a slower song accidentally snuck itself into one of my playlists. I realized that the beat of the music wasn't what necessarily kept me going. It was the lyrics. Depending on what mood I'm in, what kind of a day I've had, what parts of my life I need to reflect on, the lyrics of the music can be what will motivate me through a run. When I run, I don't worry about troubling things in my life. Running is an escape. A source of freedom. I let the music pierce my body and surge through my veins. It has a way of finding a worry or concern, and smoothing it out by reminding me that there's only so much ever in life that's truly in my control. Sometimes, all you need to do is let the music empower you. Whether it's slow or fast, it will touch you in ways you never expected. Just listen. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0New York, NY, USA40.7127837 -74.00594130000001840.3275957 -74.651388300000022 41.0979717 -73.360494300000013tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-18824113631695894942014-07-16T21:15:00.003-04:002014-11-03T20:03:23.713-05:00Second Place<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnjcV329WDWs9HOi1muIMZKFnxtUfkk3mar48mPTVn3xCQS6n-g-wF9kN9xelh9a-_HyA39obt0F_L4ZE2i4sDuOObZXlYzTjqgPPHj7sBpSGrLIH0zrYzoub9uq2N7njrfJ3kZymsC98/s1600/volleyball+hitter.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnjcV329WDWs9HOi1muIMZKFnxtUfkk3mar48mPTVn3xCQS6n-g-wF9kN9xelh9a-_HyA39obt0F_L4ZE2i4sDuOObZXlYzTjqgPPHj7sBpSGrLIH0zrYzoub9uq2N7njrfJ3kZymsC98/s1600/volleyball+hitter.png" height="200" width="168" /></a></div>
ARGH! We lost our championship game tonight, with my corporate volleyball team. I wanted this one so badly, considering our massive victory in the semifinals against the number one team.<br />
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I started this team exactly one year ago. We were a hodge podge of sizes, shapes, talent. As Sid says in Ice Age, "We're the weirdest herd I've ever seen." And I've grown so attached to them; their hearts; their individual progress and growth in their technical skills and their attachments to each other as team members. I love seeing people have a good time because of an idea that I put into action. It pretty much lights up my heart. Does that sound stupid? Probably. But I sincerely mean it. What a source of joy.<br />
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And how far we've come! Fifth place in the first season, second place in the second season, and second place again in the third season. I'm tired of second. It's justifying to know when your team's done well enough to be considered the top of the league; the best. It's validating. And I want to give them a relief from all their hard work. I wanted to just scream when we lost by ONE POINT in the third game. But, as a captain, after both teams have shook hands and you've walked past them hugging their giant first place trophy, new sweatshirts and free-bar-tab goodies, my team huddles together and no one has a word to say, I've got to come up with something.<br />
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You have to put on a brave face. You can't be overly chipper and all "Well, we sure did our best guys!"; that comes off as obnoxious. You just have to verbalize what everyone's feelings inside, and lightly spin hope for the next season. You've gotta keep it short and sweet. Everyone wants to go their separate ways and handle it by their own means and methods. Confidence, a gentle smile and strong, comforting words are really all you can give them. Don't ever make excuses for why the other team won. Thank and congratulate your players, the team. And let them be on their way.<br />
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...of course this is all to be followed up with a post-work team happy hour some time next week, so we can REALLY talk about how we feel!<br />
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Well, like I told my teammates: "We'll get our day in the sun, and until we do, we'll make it hard as hell for anyone else to enjoy theirs."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-78126017761465837342014-07-16T07:23:00.004-04:002014-11-03T20:05:54.067-05:00Silence at Sunrise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
"Silence? What can New York-noisy, roaring, rumbling, tumbling, bustling, story, turbulent New York-have to do with silence?" -Walt Whitman</div>
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It's deafening. To find yourself in complete silence, unaccompanied by another human, not even by sight, at sunrise in Manhattan, is terrifying and beautiful. </div>
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I wasn't aware that I had set my internal alarm clock for sunrise-o-clock (4:30am?? Excuse me, what??) Ok, ok, so maybe I was a little heavy-handed at Forcella's happy hour with my soccer team last night.</div>
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It looks incredible, doesn't it? And on a rainy, Tuesday night? Seriously, <b>how </b>could anyone stop at just one...? I think I woke up so early because my body needed to drink its weight in water. </div>
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Regardless, I couldn't get back to sleep and of course there was a million and one things racing through my head, so I had another one of those</div>
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putmyshoesonandgrabmyheadphonesandwalkoutthedoorbeforemybodyknowswhatshappeninggg!!! moments. (I think I should rename my blog.) Tricking my mind and body is clearly becoming a theme to getting myself out the door.</div>
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But WOW. What a morning. I jogged slowly up to Riverbank State Park and started around the track. There were four walkers out there with me. I have no reason to ever run on a track, with the abundance of parks near me, so naturally I found an incredible beauty in this nostalgic experience. It took me back to the paper I wrote in 8th grade about "What Freedom Means to Me". I wrote about how free I felt when I ran up and down the soccer field. I got a D on that paper. I think the teacher was looking for something a little deeper than running down a soccer field, and singing in the shower.</div>
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I, oddly, had the same feeling of freedom on the track this morning. I truly felt completely free; my mind lost every single worry, concern and care that I'd been carrying for the mile or so that it took me to get up there. On that track, there's no competition. No one's better than me. I don't have to worry about sideswiping another runner or dodging a yellow taxi. I won't trip on a tree root or a crack in the sidewalk. I'm not looking for the next landmark in my route and I certainly am not watching the clock to get back home. No one's looking at what I'm wearing, no one's wondering what my story is. I'm not looking at what other people are wearing and I'm certainly not trying to guess their story. It's me, the feeling of fresh air in my lungs, my quads gently pulling me forward, a clear, calm mind and that magnanimous, grey sky. </div>
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Cash Cash's "Take Me Home" broke my hypnosis and the urge to pound out some sprints overcame me. I probably took four loops around the track and would sprint on the stretch featured above. </div>
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This is how my body feels about sprinting at 6:10 in the morning. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKCt9c2o4xFDqRsEURLs816U1_7TlXwUG84Id-xZj-TE23_b8sH1h9VOSSvmLNkpiuMyE9ataU8wKDlHy4IpUh56eeZTyDHdMIx1wMDQha8iZmm4-9uVOs6IcZPOUe0CJ4dSBeyzb-uA/s1600/image+(8).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKCt9c2o4xFDqRsEURLs816U1_7TlXwUG84Id-xZj-TE23_b8sH1h9VOSSvmLNkpiuMyE9ataU8wKDlHy4IpUh56eeZTyDHdMIx1wMDQha8iZmm4-9uVOs6IcZPOUe0CJ4dSBeyzb-uA/s1600/image+(8).jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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But this is what I got out of it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-EwCtOlhPJ0HWG1xpf-i7XuSvCstdE0BCQxm2hQM2F3Hvo58dJ-lNLU5Hfcl4iYKYsqhueFEZxFYjznNg3hr8eZsw6eR7gkwLUh__MmenY1PQmHwtb_YcJW6TQhrImccPos_vFcufXA/s1600/image+(9).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-EwCtOlhPJ0HWG1xpf-i7XuSvCstdE0BCQxm2hQM2F3Hvo58dJ-lNLU5Hfcl4iYKYsqhueFEZxFYjznNg3hr8eZsw6eR7gkwLUh__MmenY1PQmHwtb_YcJW6TQhrImccPos_vFcufXA/s1600/image+(9).jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There's something about clouds that make everything seem so much quieter. I could barely hear the early morning traffic over the GW bridge. </span></div>
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And when I finally couldn't bear the sound of silence any longer (and the mosquito's discovered how delicious my skin tasted), I gathered myself together and found the road to take me home.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-59926960745083691072014-07-14T20:38:00.004-04:002014-11-03T20:06:33.412-05:00Beach Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Dc0EHC3xlCycZ6rzfsZZXcsGIaSMh8IUXKNISm0rlCWIIdYQAKXbT-LtNZWc7n854T3Fxy9ecbwAqz-ZDYcVrFzUjXh7ORnHskFKRxzMnkuz2JhroyIqGyD0q0eA7uZv92FUUq8qxc4/s1600/image+(5).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Dc0EHC3xlCycZ6rzfsZZXcsGIaSMh8IUXKNISm0rlCWIIdYQAKXbT-LtNZWc7n854T3Fxy9ecbwAqz-ZDYcVrFzUjXh7ORnHskFKRxzMnkuz2JhroyIqGyD0q0eA7uZv92FUUq8qxc4/s1600/image+(5).jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpU3KKE-QsUKOwRscvsY0vJ-n-hYS376UO8n_cgxB7VJF4SA_T7-1xREUzH7Svk615rLNVyA_4SA70Fk7bEAvEEdgcFwF13itRjMgLwPklGFmCvtllo77PtISzAIbhmEsPwdKefnEc_I/s1600/image+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpU3KKE-QsUKOwRscvsY0vJ-n-hYS376UO8n_cgxB7VJF4SA_T7-1xREUzH7Svk615rLNVyA_4SA70Fk7bEAvEEdgcFwF13itRjMgLwPklGFmCvtllo77PtISzAIbhmEsPwdKefnEc_I/s1600/image+(2).jpg" height="320" width="259" /></a></div>
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I took off two days last week, to slow things down a bit, and ended up out on Long Beach, Long Island on Saturday afternoon. The weather was incredible, blue skies covered the expansive beach. I brought Sadi, my new soccer ball (yes, it's the end of Adidas spelled backwards, and yes I not only gender-characterized my pink ball... but also yes, ... I named her!!) and went for a quick dip in the ocean.<br />
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Just the smell of the salt water, the feel of the sand, flavorful crab cakes and lobster bisque for lunch. It really transported me out of New York City. This was one, happy girl.<br />
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Of course this became a day of reflection; my thoughts on life on a broader scale, particularly in this very undulating chapter of my life. A very wise friend gave me some great advice which I sketched out and saved as the background on my cell phone. It couldn't be more positive, through my clouds of uncertainty. Whatever the future holds, the moments that are good, and the moments that are bad, they are all still moments; which must be cherished.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-64505826069966778202014-07-06T22:12:00.003-04:002014-07-14T20:57:01.643-04:00Sunday Morning on the RiverI really wouldn't have done it if it weren't for my amazing, incredible, inspirational girlfriend, Fran. We were out at her movie premiere last night and she told me she was going to take a jog the next morning. She asked what I was planning to do. "Um, sleep the eff in?" It was already about 11:30pm on a Saturday - wayyyy past my bedtime.<br>
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So my internal, corporate-slave clock woke me up at the obnoxiously early hour for a weekend, 8:30am. I can always tell what the weather's like by the amount of light that's filling my room and, oh mama, it was going to be a gorgeous day. I texted Fran and asked her if she was going running. She was still sleeping. But I had it in my head, so I just putmyshoesonandgrabbedmyheadphonesandwalkedoutthedoorbeforemybodyknewwhatwashappeningggg!!!<br>
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And, OH! What a day to run. Say hello to the GW bridge!<br>
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I'm sure I've mentioned before how unfortunate it is that you can't wear short training shorts, the tight, biker kind?, in Manhattan like you can in Miami. For as progressive and liberal as this city is, there's apparently no place for the tops of your thighs to be seen while you're running. (People judge you. "Oh, you think you're hot stuff with those super short, super tight designer shorts?" They judge. I know it. I <b><i>know</i></b> they do.) Well, too bad for the upper west side today. I threw on my sky blue Nike Pro Core 3" Compression shorts because they make me feel like I'm wearing absolutely nothing.</div>
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See that awesome dent in my leg? That's a first world sports injury. I was sailing last year on my dad's hobie cat and sure enough, we're riding high and as one of the hulls plummet under the surface, I grab my little sister to pull her off the back of the boat before it capsizes, but oh no! Her ankle was caught under a black strap on the tarp annnnnd we got stuck on the boat longer than we wanted. My leg hit some piece of metal on our way into the water and, well, it apparently took a chunk of my leg.</div>
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And in honor of the World Cup, here's a picture of my favorite fields. Soccer on the Hudson? *heart flutter</div>
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It was an awesome run. Balanced by some unusually healthy grocery shopping later in the day? Good start to the week.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0Upper Manhattan Manhattan40.813077 -73.961501tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-80805016579670987552014-04-02T20:53:00.002-04:002014-04-02T20:53:29.834-04:00Burgers, BabyI never EVER make burgers. Yet so inspired by Jamie Oliver's 15 Minute Meals over the weekend, I wanted to try a burger. Into the meat I tossed:<br />
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- crushed red pepper<br />
- black pepper<br />
- Vermont Maple Mustard (from Fox Meadow Farms)<br />
- thyme<br />
- Japanese style Panko seasoned breadcrumbs<br />
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The pan was turned on Medium-Low and the burgers cooked for just about 8 minutes on each side, crisping the outside a deep brown and leaving the inside just a teeny bit pink. I threw freshly shaved American cheese on the top for a few minutes at the end, then took them off the heat, covered the pan and let them sit for a few minutes.<br />
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Burgers included: fresh pickles, tomato slices and garlic cooked kale.<br />
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The burgers were incredibly flavorful - quite unexpectedly so! I'M A BOSS BURGER COOKER!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-32162559270335832052013-12-01T00:35:00.000-05:002013-12-08T19:11:29.548-05:00Tough Mudder Tri-State 2013<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJ-v503IQCv0lGrjEcYXk8memSKvLYSHrJPdua03asC9KNlR0S6FcHPkWTTzVIzBxCsNfHlegi14Nfz6USaPKSVWvEv04XDzFO5259cBnP035NElY0itG_Z0Yd5lgx0cExSWwhNqFADY/s1600/tough+mudder-me+and+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJ-v503IQCv0lGrjEcYXk8memSKvLYSHrJPdua03asC9KNlR0S6FcHPkWTTzVIzBxCsNfHlegi14Nfz6USaPKSVWvEv04XDzFO5259cBnP035NElY0itG_Z0Yd5lgx0cExSWwhNqFADY/s320/tough+mudder-me+and+A.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Victory headband!</td></tr>
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I'm finally able to lift my arms to my keypad to type this post. Do you happen to have an extra spine lying around? TOUGH MUDDER WAS AWESOME! I would abso-freakin-lutely do it again.<br />
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Originally we were planning to run as a group of ten. Well, things happen, and my particular group ended up being two co-workers, super fit Brian and both Tough Mudder and Mudderella champion, Polina, and my 21-year old cousin Steve, who just happens to be a Marine. Four was a perfect number. We were of relatively the same fitness level and got along splendidly; always positive, encouraging and constantly making jokes. I couldn't have asked for a better crew.<br />
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When we arrived at around 9:00am, parking was directly on site and we gathered near registration to start assembling our gear and getting tags on our clothes. It was overcast, windy and chilly. All I could think about was the Arctic Enema obstacle (jumping into a ice-water-filled dumpster, swim under a wooden board, and swim out the other side) and how much I was dreading it. I decided to wear my Under Armour Cold Gear shirt (collared and long sleeved), UnderArmour Run Stretch Woven 17" Capri's, fingerless lifting gloves, extra thick Under Armour socks and my most comfortable Nike Lunarglide running shoes. (FYI: Under Armour sponsors Tough Mudder, so do yourself a favor and try to wear Under Armour!) My shoes are a little heavy, as they're trainers, not racers, but they got me up, down and over the obstacles with out any problems.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaS3L5ovHf_ih-SZbohoCIIvNxsg1gy8dKupeF9s-IvHX-Bclyiiy1CuVAI05J91wLajbcGg0WI3GAGrM0K5yqnV3MVTEdrMMJ2qMxQgCEaTPSEoPW9jE0g6XFxm2tOcKhNxehJ2SzQM/s1600/group+of+four_tires.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaS3L5ovHf_ih-SZbohoCIIvNxsg1gy8dKupeF9s-IvHX-Bclyiiy1CuVAI05J91wLajbcGg0WI3GAGrM0K5yqnV3MVTEdrMMJ2qMxQgCEaTPSEoPW9jE0g6XFxm2tOcKhNxehJ2SzQM/s400/group+of+four_tires.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tire Walk</td></tr>
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By the time we got started, it was closer to 10:30. They got us all psyched up and sent us on our way! I had no problem trotting along with my friends; in fact the most controlled part of the entire race is when you're running between obstacles. The walls that you have to pull yourself over... well, I wouldn't ever be able to do that on my own. It wasn't awkward at... all... having my co-worked hoist my butt over wood planks. Hey! It just brings you closer together! Running through the woods was the only part that tripped me up. I mean, you're literally wading through feet-deep of water and mud. You can't see what's at the bottom, and you pray you're not going to trip over a root. Monkey Bars and Just the Tip were the most difficult ones for me. A word of advice: always keep two hands on each bar as you go across the monkey bars. I tried to swing from one to the other and fell on the SECOND one! Mud Mile was a lot more physically taxing than I thought it 'd be. That was a lotttt of little muddy hills. Everyone looked exactly the same; zombies covered head to toe in mud. The Arctic Enema ended up being a relief. Seven miles in, covered in mud and sweating, I was relieved to get into some crisp, refreshing water. Then... subsequently just as happy to get the hell out of there because that dumpster was COLD.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What do I do with these...?</td></tr>
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When we finished, to be perfectly honest, I could've kept going. I was on an adrenaline high and my muscles felt good. Bring an entire change of clothes. Socks, shoes, underwear, everything. You really might never be able to use those clothes again. I was able to wash my shoes out (!!!), but I had a hole or two in my Under Armour shirt. That was tough to swallow. What's the purpose of Cold Gear if it's got holes in it? Three weeks later, I was still q-tipping dried mud out of my ear.<br />
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Two weeks later, my husband and I volunteered at the World's Toughest Mudder. Those guys are insane. And super nice. We were stationed at the A-Frame Berlin Walls and after the first two hours, I had my favorite Mudders and was looking forward to seeing them on their next circuit. I'd absolutely recommend volunteering - the Mudders were constantly thanking us for our service... while they were carrying giant logs. Made it all worth it!<br />
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I should start training for another race. Tough Mudder won't pick up again until next year, so there's lots of time to train for it! But it's so so bitterly cold outside and hard to get motivated. Help!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0Englishtown, NJ 07726, USA40.2973319 -74.35820409999996640.2731104 -74.398544599999965 40.321553400000006 -74.317863599999967tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-58911550705606526212013-09-18T21:53:00.001-04:002013-09-18T22:12:27.722-04:00Tough Mudder and Pull-UpsI forget how I got turned on to Tough Mudder. The point is that I did. I had it in my mind that I was going to do it. Then I rallied some coworkers, mostly through trash talk, and convinced my CEO to sponsor an entire team. So now, not only have I registered, I have to put on a tough face for my colleagues since it was my super... awesome... idea.<br />
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OKAY! I have less than four weeks to get into top agility shape; mostly so my ankles don't break when I jump off an elevated platform into a shipping crate of ... ice. Again, awesome idea, Katie.</div>
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Here's a picture of me. Doing one pull-up. Because that's literally all I can do. Living in New York City is perfect for this. Scaffolding is EVERYWHERE. </div>
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I accept that, as a woman, I have underdeveloped back muscles that make it much more difficult for me to pull my body weight up more than any man. (Yep, that's what I'm telling myself.) Dude, pull-ups are hard. No matter how much my brain is telling my arms to just pull, pull, pull, my body gets stuck. Then my arms start shaking. Then a searing fire-pain rips through my arms. And then I'm back on the ground. I watch my husband do ten of these without one single, staggered breath. But....?? Wha--?? How!!!</div>
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Something tells me I'm not going to be able to take the training very seriously, being as I usually reach for a glass of wine before my lemon water when I'm finished. Hm. Also, can I ask why exercising makes you want to eat healthier? All I want to do is eat lettuce leafs and wheat pellets. (Until tomorrow when I'll be scarfing down coffee and bagels around 9:30am.)</div>
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So anyway, a great routine has become running up to Riverbank State Park with its soccer fields, baseball fields, basketball courts, a track and my training ground: a child's playground. There I can spend six minutes trying to do my one pull-up, and then throw in a few dips, leg ups, pushups and monkey bars and feel great about myself because little Sammy over there is too scared to even climb up to the top of the slide. It does wonders for my confidence. Thanks, tots! I guess if I had to set a goal, since I can feel the breath of my colleagues on my back already, it would be to do three pull-ups before the event. I think that would make me feel good about my super intense training regimen.</div>
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Don't even get me started on what I'm going to wear. I need to go read some female Tough Mudder finisher blogs!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-52646346917426926602013-05-31T21:22:00.003-04:002013-05-31T21:22:49.874-04:00Finding Motivation AgainI'll never forget the day in high school, when I was sitting next to my friend Michelle Watkins, and for whatever reason, certainly not unprovoked, she quipped, "You know, Katie, one day you're going to turn around and wake up and be 30 and be fat." I thought it was the most atrocious thing I'd ever heard. Of course I wasn't going to just wake up and be FAT. Have you <b>seen</b> my Mom? She's a 6' pencil! I could shovel in as many carbs as I wanted, and I did. I was involved in so many sports that I'd drop into bed exhausted and sore every night. I kept it up in college, my body was tight as a drum. I kept it up after college, and of course there was Miami: races and run clubs for a solid year.<br />
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But two years later, I live in this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiumbmz_SS2NazKuKoOWD4yxzf8DJWoXqXz4gGMXotfT7dKDyQGVX53iGcRMcR_r0QdOgT5LHXeDdIVqz2-V1mQK8PXONt-yBQgTpXGECZZC-zvQpsw5ZNxCmFoRMqlcMS5Ec3wNkOsZok/s1600/Times_Square,_New_York_City_(HDR).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiumbmz_SS2NazKuKoOWD4yxzf8DJWoXqXz4gGMXotfT7dKDyQGVX53iGcRMcR_r0QdOgT5LHXeDdIVqz2-V1mQK8PXONt-yBQgTpXGECZZC-zvQpsw5ZNxCmFoRMqlcMS5Ec3wNkOsZok/s1600/Times_Square,_New_York_City_(HDR).jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></div>
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And anything close to a beachy waterfront looks like this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmF1T4TQMWrbG3FpP2imeNDiWpAVTRc7WaXvohIigVUD_1ahlzHhvYXA7xhrN76GSZOKw8ZSQoiW_urUCKmkwaK6kXPokAv8I9PcwPnzSXaNqwrL8cB4vxnTxRyNwyCMa_oh2lEpA9Wo/s1600/East_River_59_jeh.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmF1T4TQMWrbG3FpP2imeNDiWpAVTRc7WaXvohIigVUD_1ahlzHhvYXA7xhrN76GSZOKw8ZSQoiW_urUCKmkwaK6kXPokAv8I9PcwPnzSXaNqwrL8cB4vxnTxRyNwyCMa_oh2lEpA9Wo/s1600/East_River_59_jeh.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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And you can eat things like this from street carts for $5.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQwHvIzc8383DF5jO2xlGvCf0ZfOSi-j79i-9ro7iNBk3ph8ZhD9U5LnJBbUd8pmNhJQvAvpJ_pMfcjENOMAKB7OTGh1OIjC0D1wb7gZXeacylJIgoOmMgoIm8MzJFlU8IBZXSkGDnI4/s1600/2011-06-02-chixandrice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQwHvIzc8383DF5jO2xlGvCf0ZfOSi-j79i-9ro7iNBk3ph8ZhD9U5LnJBbUd8pmNhJQvAvpJ_pMfcjENOMAKB7OTGh1OIjC0D1wb7gZXeacylJIgoOmMgoIm8MzJFlU8IBZXSkGDnI4/s1600/2011-06-02-chixandrice.jpg" height="237" width="320" /></a></div>
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And wash it down with:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggG1zkRDCgwmR-l31A41nJEXuE-Mt9_a2LZaAySAU1Eqrj8G2749fEdjoJKTjBHuXeQCl1xRLitPiowysAgDe6z6cjvow5FGth4qmZpdEYJf9R1J5r-s1I0L4LIEjYO_O0Y7eGOaJTZUQ/s1600/drinking-soda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggG1zkRDCgwmR-l31A41nJEXuE-Mt9_a2LZaAySAU1Eqrj8G2749fEdjoJKTjBHuXeQCl1xRLitPiowysAgDe6z6cjvow5FGth4qmZpdEYJf9R1J5r-s1I0L4LIEjYO_O0Y7eGOaJTZUQ/s1600/drinking-soda.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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My kitchen is about as big as your driver seat, so I've completely stopped cooking and buy nearly every single meal out. Do you know how high in sodium and calories even the 'healthiest' eat-out foods are?? It's nearly impossible to maintain any kind of control over your health unless you're buying the ingredients and cooking them yourself.</div>
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And to top it all off, I'm going to be 29 this year. Twenty-nine. Almost thirty. I don't mind the milestone, but my body knows that I'm not 22 anymore either. I wouldn't say that I'm getting 'soft', but I certainly can't be hoarking carbs down without a second thought. </div>
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I know, I know, I can hear you already. </div>
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"It's not New York. It's YOU, Katie. YOU make every decision to put that piece of thai food in your mouth, or not pack your gym bag." </div>
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Blah, blah, blah. It's New York's fault.</div>
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That being said... I need to get back on the horse. I need to try to eat better and get exercising again. I need motivation. What seems to be motivating me right now is my two-week honeymoon in fabulous Spain at the end of August. It's going to be one million degrees there and I'll be wearing probably next to nothing every day. Is that enough motivation? Since when did I ever NEED motivation...??? Ugh. </div>
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Should I just stick these girls all over my bathroom mirror?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYzV6xDPY2ajhaQ6M1YOXm-azGbu8jrbKUV5YkG4ZwGEC4whpCfEh8RlicFTTWzMSKvbdojA6xVrf6VqWCRHbra8I_utBE3yAQyJAaeplGM1dKMVk84RTjztr6_Bvfq1ktJrHXQGOvHq8/s1600/tumblr_m7r0s203xr1qmeidro1_250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5xWlrHdlJV46_ZiwjYgW_qAfE7JyECpYCI3WvX6dMb6cVGFuK_cc3ZwoRehPLKcB_2suxfpAno1snEfDpxvpQBZlOe73yfdqsEePn_PzZncK4hVuHV2mwIPlHuqQCwYJGJB7xm956sw/s1600/great-abs-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7VuBpGwPCllXUYT0zIuG1kqZSfXkTae8lEBrXOCkNKsyzrWchFl9hfhEgchjbUgsHmT9w1veHDiBhveXgyjo-u1XavwRlZAvVWPYdmlEzMi4GAs0tpBMXKipPdvQp67Gohu9P4pSTpw/s1600/Free-Shipping-Women-s-Sexy-Hot-Bikini-Swimwear-With-Tags-Size-S-M-L-Hot-Swimsuit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7VuBpGwPCllXUYT0zIuG1kqZSfXkTae8lEBrXOCkNKsyzrWchFl9hfhEgchjbUgsHmT9w1veHDiBhveXgyjo-u1XavwRlZAvVWPYdmlEzMi4GAs0tpBMXKipPdvQp67Gohu9P4pSTpw/s1600/Free-Shipping-Women-s-Sexy-Hot-Bikini-Swimwear-With-Tags-Size-S-M-L-Hot-Swimsuit.jpg" height="200" width="146" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Eu0e5oanTtM8oZF8vizqgUkTMKIDTT2MsCJ_J4w4hhJgSiUCEhGUJWzAKOsED5s9jWn0IGDQ42Zc_ewlfvCn3jODjAhnHUQqSky-z04Plz11xBLINXSFzjcpVO1jVCCmD5Jpj95s4ys/s1600/female-six-pack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Eu0e5oanTtM8oZF8vizqgUkTMKIDTT2MsCJ_J4w4hhJgSiUCEhGUJWzAKOsED5s9jWn0IGDQ42Zc_ewlfvCn3jODjAhnHUQqSky-z04Plz11xBLINXSFzjcpVO1jVCCmD5Jpj95s4ys/s1600/female-six-pack.jpg" height="200" width="109" /></a><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYzV6xDPY2ajhaQ6M1YOXm-azGbu8jrbKUV5YkG4ZwGEC4whpCfEh8RlicFTTWzMSKvbdojA6xVrf6VqWCRHbra8I_utBE3yAQyJAaeplGM1dKMVk84RTjztr6_Bvfq1ktJrHXQGOvHq8/s1600/tumblr_m7r0s203xr1qmeidro1_250.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></div>
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Probably.</div>
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I'm going to order a delicious, fatty pizza and think about how to make this work. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-61318121621867660032011-10-09T19:32:00.000-04:002011-10-09T19:32:17.295-04:00New GroundHel-LO New York!<br />
<br />
A quick update!<br />
<br />
I've settled into my new corporate job in Manhattan and have finally adopted a running routine again, in none other than the amazing Central Park.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtDU9feEU9c5-iH6ACSo_rae9b502DqA15ymSsuqDJx2KU4duTSO-bOgJ6ecTSAFMwoBU5uWYHhBJq-RQRSiuwoVF6XD3Sqkz12uMtNtMceVjwQhzgaeswyoK8AKbp9bo3dRfPRbz9Hs/s1600/view_route_image.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="288" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtDU9feEU9c5-iH6ACSo_rae9b502DqA15ymSsuqDJx2KU4duTSO-bOgJ6ecTSAFMwoBU5uWYHhBJq-RQRSiuwoVF6XD3Sqkz12uMtNtMceVjwQhzgaeswyoK8AKbp9bo3dRfPRbz9Hs/s320/view_route_image.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Route - October 6th</td></tr>
</tbody></table>New York's Nike Run Club is absolutely organized chaos compared to Miami's, and I only made it through two runs with them until I decided to simply drop my stuff off at the five-story Niketown on 57th Avenue and settle into a nice jog at my own pace. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTei2bD189yXSL-kXEJi2sH7uDQmDbglIq1gCqJfn_oWsr5VGYsVIpNSMcEhZQ1jdxJdBAlhc9cy5UA2MR_X-JpgyVt7bWze-kOMrtZ2eEpP7QDdoGRSDI-7QGUgzcsVei6q3ZodVQuB0/s1600/1+072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTei2bD189yXSL-kXEJi2sH7uDQmDbglIq1gCqJfn_oWsr5VGYsVIpNSMcEhZQ1jdxJdBAlhc9cy5UA2MR_X-JpgyVt7bWze-kOMrtZ2eEpP7QDdoGRSDI-7QGUgzcsVei6q3ZodVQuB0/s320/1+072.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-xIL19uMQf2nxBRM1gacFy_w4ywxhGVYSKwkjD2xscyeiWsmLVtQU6edk2kEEUyeK8nqEHIxfAMBq4zZxWubR4JnPTK5Tqa6gtkBMXWdtVC80XF9ZiU3bq5Ap5Hi9bLeYARQ6B_HlzkU/s1600/1+074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-xIL19uMQf2nxBRM1gacFy_w4ywxhGVYSKwkjD2xscyeiWsmLVtQU6edk2kEEUyeK8nqEHIxfAMBq4zZxWubR4JnPTK5Tqa6gtkBMXWdtVC80XF9ZiU3bq5Ap5Hi9bLeYARQ6B_HlzkU/s320/1+074.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div>I've got a small secret:: I'm tentatively training for the ING marathon - yes, eek! marathon! - at the end of January. I'm at 6.5 miles as of last week. I've set my own schedule to increase my mileage by one mile each week until two weeks before the race, which will put me at a maximum of 22 miles. I think that's ample enough time and distance to prepare for it. I'd love to qualify for Boston when/if I make it to Miami. I'm pretty sure I'll never want to run a marathon ever again, so if I qualify, I can put it in the books and consider it done. I wouldn't even necessarily RUN Boston. Doesn't qualifying for it sound like an accomplishment in and of itself??? YES IT DOES! I need to keep my pace at less than nine minutes per mile. It's been steady at 8:45-9:30 minutes per mile for the last 3 weeks which is completely acceptable to me. I honestly have no idea if I can keep this up as the weather gets wicked cold in December and January, and I adamantly refuse to join a gym. But the fire's been lit, and I think it's one that I won't be able to douse!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-40210342498309132342011-06-22T20:13:00.000-04:002011-06-22T20:13:02.987-04:00Missing Miami<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT22gwFfWPBsVYWfZK3r8h-bDJoVcyI9N6ro1y15LaPNud5cqz0bTbaT1npL9DPQWseNqOvoYmoX_Fctnvu9GF7z6QHGHbYLzbsZ7y0o_ARxh4b-VUnlFK6692dXazcK6ApmoI_ae1Nus/s1600/IMAG1060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT22gwFfWPBsVYWfZK3r8h-bDJoVcyI9N6ro1y15LaPNud5cqz0bTbaT1npL9DPQWseNqOvoYmoX_Fctnvu9GF7z6QHGHbYLzbsZ7y0o_ARxh4b-VUnlFK6692dXazcK6ApmoI_ae1Nus/s320/IMAG1060.jpg" width="320" /></a>I've been running sporadically here and there; dabbling in soccer and you know, the occasional run-for-your-life backyard water balloon fight. But I don't even feel guilty admitting that it's hard to stay motivated about running while I'm living here. I really miss my boardwalk runs. I miss smelling the salty sea air and feeling that breeze on my body. I wouldn't have any distractions but the occasional fellow walker/jogger and the ocean as my constant companion. I could follow the boardwalk planks for miles, until they merged into a concrete pathway lined with rows of palm trees. It's no wonder that I got into running while I was living in South Florida. I could tolerate the humidity really well, it was so flat and open; the sidewalks and paths were calling my name every evening. Back here, the streets and sidewalks are crowded, hilly and filled with stagnant summer air. I realize that I was running in this environment for years prior to living in Miami so it seems silly to gripe about the difference. But I can honestly say that the running atmosphere is one thing that I can't toss into the 'Grass is Always Greener' syndrome that's come over me since I've moved back home. When I was living down there, I missed home. Now that I live here, I miss it there. I'm sure if I were to go back down, I would miss it here again. But for not even one moment did I ever prefer running here than down there. Miami really is a paradise - for outdoor enthusiasts of all kinds. Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy to be home. But I think it's fair and understandable that I miss the quintessential paradise destination that was my home for one year. I must say, I've been running around wonderful Rock Creek Park and finding myself gazing over the Potomac River at our gorgeous skyline dotted with so many famous memorials in the sunset. But it's not the same. I was spoiled!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Last night I had a great 7 mile run, hills and all. You can see me sporting the awesome zany sports bra that Victoria gave me as a goodbye gift at my last dinner in Miami. It cheered me up instantly! Keep posting your Facebook pictures, all of my Miami friends. And Victoria, keep booking your infamous Tri's. You've been motivating me from Day 1!! I'm thinking of you each time I go out there. <br />
<br />
I miss all of you guys down there - and my Nike's miss you, boardwalk planks! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">xoxo</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-85902371746828626302011-06-07T01:54:00.003-04:002011-06-07T02:06:17.175-04:00Antietam Battlefield 10K - Success!It was a grey and quiet when I woke up, late, at 7:15am on Sunday morning to drive 90 miles out to Antietam Battlefield in Sharpsburg, MD for this 'local' 10K. Who am I kidding - I didn't drive. Alejandro bravely took the wheel since I could hardly keep my eyes open, recovering from a wonderful Saturday night. <br />
<br />
Antietam is the site of the bloodiest single day battle of the American Civil War. Over 23,000 men, including six generals, between the Confederate and Union forces, were killed in a 12 hour period. As we pulled into the National Park, their sacrifice was palpable.<br />
<br />
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This was the friendliest race I had ever been to! There were about 450 registrants total, including the 10k and 5k. Local volunteers greeted us warmly when we picked up our packets and directed me to the (clean and toilet paper-filled!) port-a-Johns. Yep, I was prepared this time. Volunteers and racers were still cheering every participant from the earlier 5k as they came across the finish line. Before our race, a high school junior sang the National Anthem. She blew Deborah Cox out of the water. (Deborah sang the National Anthem at the ING Marathon in Miami earlier this year for 25,000 people.) This girl's powerful voice cut straight across the National Park and directly into my heart; my hairs bristled. We stood in a moment of silence for all soldiers, past and present. I felt a lump forming in my throat. To stand in silence over a battlefield was pretty damn powerful for a bleak, Sunday morning. Then the starting gun screamed... and we were off!<br />
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There were big hills, there was lots of uneven pavement and the air was muggy and thick. But I could hardly keep my eyes off of the beautiful countryside. Alejandro ran with me for the first 3.5 miles then took off when I slowed, as symptoms of a hangover and sleep deprivation crept in hard.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8da0NBGqQ9NCY9jcuRF8St2z13-6guJsmwq_f-7ajI91D8OUbOToKKvfbH4WZXIuKFTm2QbODCRf1sPXqPloFIhPZaZc4hcbgli3-GvXtpT6jd8TRVqMdkvumqa0xAkyyO8PWjefL6M/s1600/IMAG1012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8da0NBGqQ9NCY9jcuRF8St2z13-6guJsmwq_f-7ajI91D8OUbOToKKvfbH4WZXIuKFTm2QbODCRf1sPXqPloFIhPZaZc4hcbgli3-GvXtpT6jd8TRVqMdkvumqa0xAkyyO8PWjefL6M/s320/IMAG1012.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Award Ceremony at the Finish</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>This was the second race in which I found a running buddy for the last two miles. I passed a 44 year old Navy retiree, Mark, walking in his toe-shoes and everything, who picked up his pace to jog with me in the final miles. You can learn a lot about someone when you're running next to them. It's like sitting on a plane; you're next to that person until you reach the destination so you might as well make the most of it. He had quite an inspiring story - he lost 200+ lbs and quit his 2 pack a day smoking habit about five years ago, when he found himself winded after climbing a flight of stairs. I asked him how I would ever get my little brother to stop smoking and he said, "He won't stop until he's found something that's worth living for. You're just going to irritate him by asking him to stop; he's got to want to do it for himself." He told me that he had failed out of college and was driving home from a late night bartending shift at 22 years old and pulled into the Naval recruiting station thinking, 'Anything is better than what I've got going for me right now.' That man changed his own stars. I asked him about any little idiosyncracies he has when he races. He said every time he runs, he remembers all the buddies that he lost in Iraq and Vietnam and feels that they're running there with him.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Burnside Bridge</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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PS - My three idiosyncracies are:<br />
1. Lucky pink underwear reserved only for race days<br />
2. Never, ever walk<br />
3. Always sprint over the finish line<br />
<br />
We finished in under an hour, sprinting over the finish line. I said goodbye to him and was suddenly flooded with nausea. I proceeded to sprint down to the port-a-Johns and yak my brains out. I instantly felt better and we had a lovely morning driving the 8 mile loop and touring the battlefields. I highly recommend a visit to this historic site during the summer months; its an amazing story. Oh, and while you're there, why don't you go for a little jog? :)<br />
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Gallery photos of Antietam National Park; taken on days a little brighter than mine! <br />
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</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9FT_Nv9FFF6V_cNV9pxbLgm-5C4mqQnCPBXf1dCnQz-dOH74mFqtoRksNCo3uE9LV4jQxPTLAv96q1jrfw6XvDd9ii08tDsuE6ByaXOicG_P_BaykHqhoyBBgOfs6hyphenhyphenTKTJovzFWOcs4/s1600/ant6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9FT_Nv9FFF6V_cNV9pxbLgm-5C4mqQnCPBXf1dCnQz-dOH74mFqtoRksNCo3uE9LV4jQxPTLAv96q1jrfw6XvDd9ii08tDsuE6ByaXOicG_P_BaykHqhoyBBgOfs6hyphenhyphenTKTJovzFWOcs4/s200/ant6.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPQIe9Zns2dI4sQ3A2h03lpSIaHurqOb0oG_IAIOM3RV88rGCcEntRcfwwzIUuFI1w-L-46jJ5p872-MdwNIlcP3y1Q2SsBRQTOfDc-57BcYUxAFUNxjzyBJgf6Bk0H8sZxxdVOA-Z3g/s1600/ant9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPQIe9Zns2dI4sQ3A2h03lpSIaHurqOb0oG_IAIOM3RV88rGCcEntRcfwwzIUuFI1w-L-46jJ5p872-MdwNIlcP3y1Q2SsBRQTOfDc-57BcYUxAFUNxjzyBJgf6Bk0H8sZxxdVOA-Z3g/s200/ant9.jpg" width="142" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy7elZcWvV4SigA2nKggvbhPcZ67bGxJhoclys7Zori6Ykhp8U0CtrkXXhyphenhyphennOdxW2OiKdxxJg9bxUaFPQG0fVJzMLOSxBVtRxCNeeagmiysvx1Gvuql_L4JG9J_kdfScuSSyAYXjdJpN8/s1600/ant10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy7elZcWvV4SigA2nKggvbhPcZ67bGxJhoclys7Zori6Ykhp8U0CtrkXXhyphenhyphennOdxW2OiKdxxJg9bxUaFPQG0fVJzMLOSxBVtRxCNeeagmiysvx1Gvuql_L4JG9J_kdfScuSSyAYXjdJpN8/s200/ant10.jpg" width="142" /><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaHeWl6YYBW4MJ2Q87X_wpJuunp-T-ZRRkPWk7jh9-1xY4CT7NfqOEWoxjS77OzU4HTz0DP0wiTX6QjFvY_xtB9D-ElO7oVh3ZyUyLTq_kTYm5l6GPggzlNBlWmBDsk_MAKvPEJ8MmTgs/s1600/ant7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaHeWl6YYBW4MJ2Q87X_wpJuunp-T-ZRRkPWk7jh9-1xY4CT7NfqOEWoxjS77OzU4HTz0DP0wiTX6QjFvY_xtB9D-ElO7oVh3ZyUyLTq_kTYm5l6GPggzlNBlWmBDsk_MAKvPEJ8MmTgs/s200/ant7.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-71479715024577621302011-05-30T17:36:00.001-04:002011-05-30T17:46:55.678-04:00Alexandria Half Marathon - SUCCESS!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP8lQPTk45mr8oA_Kd8cfAQda_Su_jXN5pWR6kQ5mLWS6wpbT83_Vv-9dsVfVyWgOsed_ZhV4K3DcC5dm7L1XmEsWFc4Pez38mZ2gAejhYvI0gc-ESU-KEUhyphenhyphenb1aSWBhuxvS7U0BYFouE/s1600/alexandria+half.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP8lQPTk45mr8oA_Kd8cfAQda_Su_jXN5pWR6kQ5mLWS6wpbT83_Vv-9dsVfVyWgOsed_ZhV4K3DcC5dm7L1XmEsWFc4Pez38mZ2gAejhYvI0gc-ESU-KEUhyphenhyphenb1aSWBhuxvS7U0BYFouE/s320/alexandria+half.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All smiles at the finish line</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table>I must say, this was more of a crap-a-thon than a half mar-a-thon. I thought I was doing myself a favor by carbo loading on Saturday night with chicken, red pepper and broccoli alfredo (and a little Texas Toast, num nums). Turns out, the only favor I was doing myself was a solid colon cleansing in the middle of the race. I wasn't racing for a medal for the first seven miles, I was racing for port-a-Johns. Have you ever jogged while actually clenching your butt cheeks together? Let me tell you, it's as challenging as it is hilarious. I'm going to pump myself full of Immodium before the next race. I timed my pit stops to about nine minutes total so considering my overall time was a pathetic 2:10, I'd like to think that I ran this bad boy in about two hours. Alejandro was smart not to wait for me at my first pull over. He finished in 270th place. I finished in... 561st...<br />
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This was the first time that I've ever A) Stopped to go to the bathroom in a race and B) Grabbed a mouthful of water at the water stations - probably because I had just crapped out what felt like 70% of my body fluid. I'll gladly take any advice on how to avoid Runner's Trots in the middle of a race. <br />
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Something, almost beautiful, happened in the last two miles. It was a flat, colorless run between highway and residences and hardly a motivator to bring you home. I was merrily trotting down the home stretch when a tall, lanky and muscular girl about my age passed me ever so slowly. I'm not sure if she slowed down or if I sped up, but we ended up running next to each other for several yards with a little over one mile left to go. We didn't even look at each other, but our paces matched so well that we almost telepathically agreed to push the other through the finish line. Though I've paced myself behind runners before, I've never actually picked up a 'run buddy' in the middle of a race. With maybe about a 1/4 mile left, we jogged past an older man who instantly crept back up to us, smiled and yelled at me with a thumbs up sign, "GOOD PACE!" The three of us tackled the final hill together. I was in the center and felt like Cameron Diaz in her center position of the Charlie's Angel's pose and thinking - YEA! We can do this! - As we steadily increased our speed to round the final turn, our gentleman friend was grunting loudly. I smiled and yelled at him, "Use your arms! Lengthen your stride!" and though I broke into my traditional oh-my-god-a-jaguar-is-chasing-me sprint for the last hundred yards, the three of us slapped high fives at the end and exchanged "I couldn't have done it without you"'s. It was a really, really cool feeling.<br />
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As you can tell by my suffering run blog, I didn't exactly train for this race, but thankfully I'm hardly sore today and I've got a new medal hanging on my rear view mirror! I'm doing a 10K next weekend and I think I can tackle a half marathon in PA in two weeks as my June race. There aren't many half races in the surrounding states during the summer because it's so hot, so I've got to head north or south to get in a race a month. It's too bad that my overactive digestive system slowed me a bit for this race, but as they say....<br />
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...shit happens.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-10309765725234875132011-05-15T23:50:00.001-04:002011-05-15T23:54:53.598-04:00Sunday Evening<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJo7EvNY_CUTDWHx6E-ychlHM5kF1KY4_7LYOr-qCFGxEdAk-tRRsXbsRMkhlAx5cCe_mykL781MS9jadOuFv20VAYmdPeEaqE13OP8ZW16ivUCFi1c_-h9RAdyC75h0Sj0CRd1jkvpcU/s1600/IMAG0404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJo7EvNY_CUTDWHx6E-ychlHM5kF1KY4_7LYOr-qCFGxEdAk-tRRsXbsRMkhlAx5cCe_mykL781MS9jadOuFv20VAYmdPeEaqE13OP8ZW16ivUCFi1c_-h9RAdyC75h0Sj0CRd1jkvpcU/s320/IMAG0404.jpg" width="212" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilOxwx9SZcqozvUDdTLJBWBv88oFbHrxSeEMWickpBM1qbWV_VRXQ8DCbudnl9-BCyTikx1DNWvnQSY-inOpFbmBhy8pRFSkBRTxETgIrwrLuTDOO8H8ykiqCZAyCcqBSia1bN9Rqrnp4/s1600/IMAG0379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilOxwx9SZcqozvUDdTLJBWBv88oFbHrxSeEMWickpBM1qbWV_VRXQ8DCbudnl9-BCyTikx1DNWvnQSY-inOpFbmBhy8pRFSkBRTxETgIrwrLuTDOO8H8ykiqCZAyCcqBSia1bN9Rqrnp4/s320/IMAG0379.jpg" width="212" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A cloudy evening in Arlington. But I managed a fantastic, familiar run up to Georgetown and back before the rain came a-pourin'. Those were some serious hills - my butt still hurts! Just a quick and easy four miler, but I did it as fast as I could. I'm recovering from a mild case of strep throat, acquired on Friday, so my airway seemed to tighten quicker than usual. Wow, those pictures are DARK, aren't they! I've got to pump up the intensity to get ready for my race in two weeks. I'm off to Las Vegas this week for work. Talk about some serious isometric exercise. Standing for 9 hours at a time will do it to you! Sooo proud of Victoria for her tri this morning. She's the one that even got me into this racing addiction, back in Miami. Wish I was there to race with you again, V! Thanks for inspiring me.</div><br />
Time to snuggle in with some Runner's World. Have a wonderful week!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-6820204972565927532011-05-07T11:49:00.002-04:002011-05-07T12:18:05.369-04:00Bugs on Burke Lake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0qg78Y3qB2gtvFwciiAAZ6cGlNnkq5GBYu9DK3jxopAdO1K0mN7SdF1wHiiTbDmjxo0gQ1yV3X5A-cpLOLUKsLwKhVZPNuhojgoXi2dVuGyKZO_-qyWlR02VtMgx5FbIq_DzdGHXD2Y/s1600/photo-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0qg78Y3qB2gtvFwciiAAZ6cGlNnkq5GBYu9DK3jxopAdO1K0mN7SdF1wHiiTbDmjxo0gQ1yV3X5A-cpLOLUKsLwKhVZPNuhojgoXi2dVuGyKZO_-qyWlR02VtMgx5FbIq_DzdGHXD2Y/s320/photo-1.JPG" width="212" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIijsSq4u_4T3klxovdaoaXwtgVsZkWStir5oIviNeYAafpu7RGJiiY-64K459LnrsQ23a2e60yIkWx5GHZNdYp4kQwkK11vSxhk4x7xon8olgsKTjQqWdvRdeor4xUYaANTnJk3AdCAs/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIijsSq4u_4T3klxovdaoaXwtgVsZkWStir5oIviNeYAafpu7RGJiiY-64K459LnrsQ23a2e60yIkWx5GHZNdYp4kQwkK11vSxhk4x7xon8olgsKTjQqWdvRdeor4xUYaANTnJk3AdCAs/s320/photo.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> The last two nights have been fantastic runs on the Burke Lake Loop, about five miles in circumference. Second to having a beach house in South Florida some day, please remind me to purchase property on a lake when I'm filthy rich. There's something about the woods and the still water that breathes peace and tranquility. The five miles went quickly - it was thrilling to have raised roots, mud patches, twists and turns shaded by a rooftop of greenery to run through. I enjoyed it so much that I made runs two days in a row. When's the last time that I would have run two days in a row?? I didn't feel fatigued at all from Thursday's run and tonight I ran the loop in the opposite direction while my mother took a bit of a stroll around the piers. Now I'm not sure how many individual bugs, bug families, or bug colonies I might have swallowed in the last 48 hours, but I'm thinking of investing in or inventing a pair of sunglasses with mini-windshield wipers on them to remove the squashed bug carcasses from them. There were so many that I was nearly gagging. What on earth am I supposed to do about it? I mean, if they fly into your mouth, you can try and spit them out. But if they fly up your nose... ? Well, I'm moving back into Lorcom Lane today (!!!) so my new water side runs will be on the Potomac River. Maybe riverside gnats aren't quite as people friendly as lakeside gnats! </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-24665881416558149602011-05-03T23:03:00.000-04:002011-05-03T23:03:03.683-04:00Get Angry"Anger is a short madness"<br />
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I think we can all agree that to a certain degree and in specific applications, we humans can perform much more efficiently when propelled by a controlled, inner rage. For example, those cars reversing down 395 over the bridge this afternoon to make an earlier ramp (illegal, schmillegal) because of dead stopped traffic, were going to get to their destinations much faster than the rest of us. Oh, and I have never sent more effective work e-mails or handled matters more efficiently at work when in a more-than-slightly elevated degree of frustration. And probably the most effective times are when we are mad at ourselves. We take a step back, re-evaluate and then go and KICK SOME SERIOUS ASS!!! Right?<br />
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I've always played better soccer when I was angry. Tonight's game revitalized that philosophy and thank goodness because last week at my first game with my new team - The Foot Clan - I was running around like some delicate fairy, afraid to even touch the ball. What a pansy! This week, my personal trainer and lifelong soccer coach, aka my <i>mother,</i> knew exactly how to light the inner tiger and get my butt in gear out on the field. We came out of the second half with a win (1-0) assisted by yours truly, and Katie limping on her crushed left foot, which is nicely elevated and iced as I type. Now <i>that's</i> how to come out of a good game!<br />
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On Sunday, when I knew I hadn't run nearly 7 days prior, I was furious that I thought I could excuse one day after the next of not running, and banged out 7.4 miles from Hobart Street and down to the Kennedy Center. That's right, I'll show you, lazy anti-running little red devil on my shoulder. Take it!<br />
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When an event triggers you to an angry reaction, it's okay. In fact, your <b>amygdala</b>, or the emotion-center of your brain, is wired to tell you that you're angry much faster than the <b>cortex</b>, or the thought and judgment center of your brain, can react and tell you the degree of reaction that you will have towards that trigger. This phenomenon is <i>not </i>an excuse to give the cop that pulls you over for road rage and definitely won't fly in court, so what's crucial is learning to manage the degree of your anger. Have you heard the phrase, "You can't help how you feel, but you can help how you react to it"? I'm a fan of this one. The initial reaction is also your 'gut instinct'. (And always, always, trust your gut!)<br />
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Relaxation techniques will reduce the activity of your amygdala, though it takes a long time to reduce anger as the adrenaline is already coarsing through your veins. Your best bet is to remove the antagonist or control your thoughts about the trigger. Yes, anger has been linked to heart disease, but it also is a very important emotion, to help us distinguish when things are perceived as unjust or unfair. <br />
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So... GET ANGRY, let it out. Work harder to get the raise that your co-worker already did, tell your boyfriend that you're tired of his dirty socks lying on the floor, spend an extra 15 minutes training your puppy to not pee indoors, whatever you need to do. If it's a controlled rage, you might just be pleased with the results!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-37926297938959223092011-05-03T00:12:00.006-04:002011-05-03T11:25:02.851-04:00What Does Your Finale Sound Like?<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I hope you're not blinded by the explosion of pink on my page. My last 12 months were filled with <b>one</b> season - summer on Botox - so I'm really excited about Spring and DC's cherry blossoms!</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7O7v-FLHVWpRDeLWnmWFSNrkiES6AOZoKRpbyqbEefJChGQw3tJy-BhuI4tWc5cU9exl0DkLmYdzWrHOKAYylBDU5y4eqmT35Rqv6t7MTku-ZGr-B1vSC7cJzUxjVXSQfW8dLYoJTtc/s1600/231097_670460430141_38003550_35666279_7862228_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7O7v-FLHVWpRDeLWnmWFSNrkiES6AOZoKRpbyqbEefJChGQw3tJy-BhuI4tWc5cU9exl0DkLmYdzWrHOKAYylBDU5y4eqmT35Rqv6t7MTku-ZGr-B1vSC7cJzUxjVXSQfW8dLYoJTtc/s1600/231097_670460430141_38003550_35666279_7862228_a.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toasting a Potomac River<br />
sunset before the show</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"To truly appreciate the destination, one must first understand the path." </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Last Saturday I had a fantastic evening filled with the flawless punctuation of notes from The National Symphony Orchestra and their world-famous, distinguished guest of honor, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Chang">Sarah Chang</a>. My wonderful date was the former student band director of Stanford University's Symphony Orchestra and is a great trumpet player. I dare to boast that he can identify nearly any jazz musician within the first measure of their song and he would definitely be my first pick of partners in musical trivia. This is essentially the perfect man to take you to the symphony - one who will appreciate it. The Arts can be a tricky destination for some. A gentleman escorted me to my favorite winter ballet, The Nutcracker, last December and it must have been either the imaginary ants in his pants or the strangulation of the top button of his dress shirt that couldn't keep that man still in his seat. Bless his heart, he managed to survive the evening, but it was sad to me that he didn't appreciate the hours of practice and the blistering toes </span></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">(come on, we all saw Black Swan) </span></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">that those performers had conquered to bring us an evening of entertainment. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Violin Concerto No.1</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I found myself staring in awe at the speed at which Sarah's fingers moved up and down the neck of her instrument. When she played a solo, she would command the stage, stomp her foot, swing her hair or flourish her bow coming out of a long string. When she played in confluence with the rest of the orchestra, she would soften a bit, blending perfectly with their sound. When the orchestra would pick notes with their fingers instead of using their bows, it sounded as if only one member was playing with not a single note struck out of its proper time and place. These are details that Alejandro and I sat nearly on the edge of our seats to absorb. We appreciated the range of effects, from each note that was struck to the entire feeling that the piece gives you as it fills the concert hall. Suddenly, my thoughts drifted into a parallel with running. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Running, like the Arts, is not meant for all. Some can't endure the pressure on their muscles and joints. Some find it mundane, even trite. But for those who love running, we see it for more than the repetition-of-one-foot-in-front-of-the-other facade that it appears to have. We understand the importance of every single step and how it contributes to our goals, whether they be weight loss, a decreased race time or simply its contribution to a resolved healthier lifestyle. Much like those orchestra players who become frustrated with certain notes that they can't hit, or speeds that they struggle to reach in practice, so does a runner slow after exertion, caused by anything from a side cramp to a serious injury. But when that music lover contemplates and recognizes the magnanimous effect that the entire symphony will have upon its audience, he'll continue to pluck and play until he has achieved the perfection that constitutes the essence of the piece. And if a runner hits his third mile for the first time in his life, or sees his LDL levels dropping after a physical exam, he understands that he has achieved a goal from perseverance and the sweat of every step along the way. <br />
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Sarah Chang could have missed one or two notes in the overwhelming display of scales in Bruch's Violin Concerto No. 1 and I'm pretty sure that no one in the audience would have noticed it. But <b>she</b> would. And the conductor would. And you darn well better believe that Max Christian Friederick Bruch would have noticed it from his grave. Yes, even a world-famous musician, making more money than most of us will ever attain by her age, will make mistakes. You'll have a bad day on the track, on the course, on the hill. You'll want to kick yourself for pushing too hard when things didn't turn out just the way you envisioned them. Start slow, try again. Every step, every note, gets you closer to the extraordinary feeling that will overcome you when you get it right. And whether the applause you hear is coming from the hands of 500 people in a concert hall, or is simply the beat of your own proud, bulging heart, turn around and take a look at that well-traveled road and smile. You wouldn't be here without it.</span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6051506306731017394.post-67545777926866283542011-04-28T22:36:00.032-04:002011-04-28T23:01:31.713-04:00A New Race, Soccer and DCI've done it! I've finally signed up for my next race. It's in one month which gives me plenty of time to train for a competitive finish time. I bet I could run one within the next two weeks, but I would probably clock a personally disappointing finish time (over two hours) so it's best to take the extra two weeks and 'git er dun the right way. It's the <a href="http://runwithmcp.org/dev/arf">Alexandria Running Festival</a> (yea... I'm pretty sure I can think of about five other titles that are more creative than 'running... festival...') which involves a 5K, a half marathon and a relay half marathon; I'm only doing the half.<br />
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Tonight was my first 7v7 outdoor co-ed soccer game down on the National Mall. There are so many athletes out on those fields after 5:30pm. The mall was teeming with frisbee, soccer and softball leagues in their bright colored jerseys all the way from Pennsylvania Avenue to Rock Creek Parkway. It was great to see so many people being so active! We played just next to the Martin Luther King Jr Memorial - <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&q=jefferson+memorial&aq=&sll=38.885772,-77.046068&sspn=0.006965,0.021136&ie=UTF8&rq=1&ev=zo&split=1&t=h&radius=0.68&hq=jefferson+memorial&hnear=&ll=38.885772,-77.046068&spn=0.006965,0.021136&z=16">see it here!</a> - and in front of the lazy Potomac River where a sleepy, orange sun was dropping into bed. I kept my comments to myself at our laughable playing fields considering the grass was almost as tall as the ball and being as I've just come off playing on gorgeous rooftop turf fields in Miami. I mean, it's all about being out there, playing the game, rallying with friends. (But seriously, I hope the lawn mowers are scheduling some maintenance before next Wednesday!) My mom drove up after work to watch me play. The other team didn't have enough players so they forfeit, we got a Win, and we scrimmaged for a solid hour in the ... marsh. It was great; I met my new teammates and am excited for next week. My car arrives next Tuesday, just in time to get my cleats. I played in indoor shoes tonight and I think I spent more time on my rear end than charging towards the goal.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tried to get Barack to come out but his cell went straight to VM</td></tr>
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On a side note: I love this city. Late for the game and departing from Farragut North metro station, I jogged past The White House, the Washington Monument, the World War II Memorial, in front of the Jefferson Memorial, through (oops, sorry!) the Korean War Veterans Memorial and behind a barrage of DC tour buses to get to the field. When I ran through a tornado of cherry blossoms descending on my path next to the Reflecting Pool, I didn't run around them this time. They looked like a giant pillow fight for yards down the dirt path. But instead of feathers flying through the air, it was white and purple cherry flower petals and the situation of them blowing hard against my body in the wind actually made me giggle like a little kid. My family used to have picnics on the National Mall all the time when I was younger. I would feed the swans and chase the pigeons with my brothers. (Which I think actually trained me to hunt pigeons on the street, even as an adult. If I see one standing there as I walk by, I can't resist the urge to make him fly away.) My mom still loves to visit the museums several times a year and I hope to get down to National Geographic's exhibit at the Museum of National Art this weekend. This city is powerful, historical and smart. I have so many memories here. I could never call any other place my home.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend Sebastian captures the essence of DC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06786099809971018532noreply@blogger.com0