Yes, I know, this hasn't been the best year for my pitiful internet presence. I just didn't feel like writing about anything. And then I felt guilty about that. How lame is that? It's not that I have a cult-following here. Haha.
I've also been wondering what this general obsession with making your thoughts and opinions publicly accessible is all about. I mean, I love the opinion page in the newspapers. I enjoy a good public sparring of politicians and public figures. I get a few good giggles from watching Stewart or Colbert. I even like to get riled up by the insanity of FOX News at times.
I guess I'm perfectly fine with opinions in principle (and the internet has made the playing field so much more colorful), it's more the inane status updates, public diaries, and useless trivia that make me wonder.
A few recent newsarticles and TV shows have put this on my mind again...
Yesterday I watched a meta-media magazine on German television. They lamented the decline of quality journalism. Their prime targets were the privately owned TV stations here, where most stories recquire little to no research and are mass-produced to appeal to viewers with five-second attention spans (or so it seems). Interesting example: Flu/Flu shots. Instead of citing facts or asking doctors/researchers, the female "journalist" got the flu shot herself and then reported the next day about slight pain in her arm. OK. WTF is that? Any random person off the street can do the same kind of 'me me me'-reporting.
Frustrating.
A psychotherapist gave an interview about "public relationships". She cited two German celebrities (Boris Becker was one) as examples for people who demonstratively flaunt their love lives (usually rapidly changing partners) in public. The researcher claimed that these personalities have some kind of narcisistic disorder. Well, at least those guys get paid for disclosing private details, ey?
Which brings me to the strange facebook/twitter-phenomenon.
Disclaimer: Yes, I also have a FB account and it is somewhat useful. I like seeing pictures of my friends and sending short messages instead of lengthy emails (which I tend to send very, very infrequently anyway - another source of guilt...).
Nevertheless, I have a hard time understanding why so many people need to update the world at large about the state of their little lives. Who cares about your latest meal, shopping trip, bowel movement? - Yea, OK, maybe somebody does, and I should just ignore the mundane updates and unclench. Probably true. And most days I don't care or mind anyway.
On other days I worry though, because I think there is one side of this "virtual community" and connection with friends, internet buddies and the world: It can trick you into thinking you have a social life.
Sure, you haven't left the house all weekend and you're still in your pajamas, but you've been talking to your friends online all day! Yea, not the same thing as meeting people in person, sharing a meal, playing sports together, taking a walk. A few years ago I was fundamentally lonely, but didn't have to admit it to myself, because I had my buddies on the web.
Don't get me wrong, I love the internet. Talking to people online, looking up random articles and facts, reveling in the unbelievable vastness of this crazy electronic web.
Yet, I don't want to forget the real world: Giving an update to the person sitting across from me at the dinner table. Telling my friends in person that I "like" something they have accomplished. Taking inventory of my unplugged life every once in a while. Checking what my status really is.
November 9, 2009
March 5, 2009
New Year, New ... Damnit.
So much for new year and good intentions...I have not been feeling very productive writing-wise lately. Also, because I have been a little grumpy about winter and the weather and and and..., I might just have whined all the time anyway.
On a more positive note, it was my birthday a couple of weeks ago, and I got my first ever cookie-cake. If I recall correctly (sorry mom, in case this is wrong...), it was also my first ever cake with writing on it. Excellent.
Here it is:
And yes, it was as tasty as it looks. Thank you, Mr.Lara. Haha.
On a more positive note, it was my birthday a couple of weeks ago, and I got my first ever cookie-cake. If I recall correctly (sorry mom, in case this is wrong...), it was also my first ever cake with writing on it. Excellent.
Here it is:
And yes, it was as tasty as it looks. Thank you, Mr.Lara. Haha.
December 9, 2008
Mythical Creatures
I am not kidding about this. The Dutch are only part human. My guess is 50%. The other half is bicycle.
The Dutch are so ridiculously comfortable and secure on their bikes; and they assume everybody else is, too. Doesn't bother me as much as it cracks me up.
If you ride your bike during rush hour, you better be prepared to go with the flow...Cyclists are going fast and biking with a purpose. Some of my colleagues find it a little dangerous to venture out during 'peak biking times'...
But the Dutch don't just go fast, they multi-task on their bikes: I've seen people on bikes talking on their cell phone, eating frites (French fries) and smoking. No big deal, you say? They do it all at the same time! Haha. Yes, I am exaggerating a little...
Taking the cake so far: A young woman with a big textbook propped up between the handlebars, studying while biking. Now that's too much even for my taste...Sheesh.
At any rate, here are some pictures from the land of bikes:
Bike 'parking' at Den Haag Central Station.
Yes, they have guarded, underground bike parking. Awesome.
Additional info: After I typed this up, I has a smallish bike accident on my way home. Too much bike-craziness apparently. Two dudes overtaking two other dudes on a two-lane-bikepath. In the dark. Going too fast.
I was able to brake and avoid the first biker. Second one, not so much. Found myself sitting on the ground. Boo. We were both fine, and he seemed a lot more shaken up than me. Dumbass. Your mistake and I couldn't even yell at you because you were so shocked. Great.
The Dutch are so ridiculously comfortable and secure on their bikes; and they assume everybody else is, too. Doesn't bother me as much as it cracks me up.
If you ride your bike during rush hour, you better be prepared to go with the flow...Cyclists are going fast and biking with a purpose. Some of my colleagues find it a little dangerous to venture out during 'peak biking times'...
But the Dutch don't just go fast, they multi-task on their bikes: I've seen people on bikes talking on their cell phone, eating frites (French fries) and smoking. No big deal, you say? They do it all at the same time! Haha. Yes, I am exaggerating a little...
Taking the cake so far: A young woman with a big textbook propped up between the handlebars, studying while biking. Now that's too much even for my taste...Sheesh.
At any rate, here are some pictures from the land of bikes:
Bike 'parking' at Den Haag Central Station.
Yes, they have guarded, underground bike parking. Awesome.Additional info: After I typed this up, I has a smallish bike accident on my way home. Too much bike-craziness apparently. Two dudes overtaking two other dudes on a two-lane-bikepath. In the dark. Going too fast.
I was able to brake and avoid the first biker. Second one, not so much. Found myself sitting on the ground. Boo. We were both fine, and he seemed a lot more shaken up than me. Dumbass. Your mistake and I couldn't even yell at you because you were so shocked. Great.
December 8, 2008
This Is Your Life
Just a quick follow-up to the last post about the new year, new goals and such.
It's (hopefully) too early to ponder my lifetime achievements, but here's one thing that's on my list for 2009 and beyond:
No, not having my own show (even though that sounds good, too), but:
To be invited to the show would be awesome enough, quite frankly, but if I'm coming up with outrageous lifetime goals, might as well go all out:
Neal and I would either chat about my groundbreaking and highly hilarious research (something worthy of an Ig Nobel Award) or my (both best-selling and critically acclaimed) novel.
Ah, Neal. Nice, educated, articulate, listening. Neal.
Call me.
It's (hopefully) too early to ponder my lifetime achievements, but here's one thing that's on my list for 2009 and beyond:
No, not having my own show (even though that sounds good, too), but:- to be a guest on NPR's Talk of the Nation (Best. Show. Ever.) and chat with Neal Conan. In person, if at all possible.
To be invited to the show would be awesome enough, quite frankly, but if I'm coming up with outrageous lifetime goals, might as well go all out:Neal and I would either chat about my groundbreaking and highly hilarious research (something worthy of an Ig Nobel Award) or my (both best-selling and critically acclaimed) novel.
Ah, Neal. Nice, educated, articulate, listening. Neal.
Call me.
Are We There Yet?
A little more than three weeks left in this year...For some reason I'm not too thrilled with 2008. Not sure why. Nothing bad happened to me, I've been amazingly healthy, and the same goes for the ones I care for. Still, somehow feel a little 'meh' about 2008.
It's been pointed out to me by numerous (annoyingly upbeat) people that 2008 was the year I met somebody I can finally really care about and imagine a future with (Yea yea, but I never get to see him. Grr.). Plus, 2008 was the year I completed my first marathon (Yea yea, but I was so slow. Grr.). I also ran four half-marathons, an excellent 10-miler in Paris, biked a cool race with Dad, and traveled to the States twice. I moved to a new place, and somehow held on to my job, while managing to spend countless hours on random useful (and not so useful) websites. Whoppee.
It's true, it wasn't a bad year by any stretch of the imagination. Still, I'm looking forward to a fresh start, new beginnings and adventures. A brandnew, unspoiled year.
Christmas and New Year's have always been my favorite holidays (In addition to birthdays, but that's a completely different story for some other time...). Christmas mainly because of the family aspect of it. Oh, and the cookies, of course.
New Year's Eve is just fantastic because it gives me reason to reflect on my life and its direction. Is this who I want to be? Is this where I want to be headed?
Like I said, not so sure right now. Three more weeks to think about this and come up with a strategy and some goals for 2009. Or just resove to be more like Calvin.
That could work.
December 2, 2008
Excuse Me While I Bitch And Moan
I have been thinking about this ever since I moved here and have not been able to find a satisfactory answer to the fundamental question:
Why? Why in the name of all that's holy can a country that gets an exorbitant amount of precipitation (see old entry for evidence) not devise a decent drainage system? Why?
Let me explain: I bike to and from work; around 8 miles each way. Almost all the way on awesome bike paths and I love my commute. Thank you, Dutch tax payers. Really.
But: From September through April, there are basically puddles everywhere. Sometimes they stretch all the way across the bike path and stay there for days. Even if it hasn't rained in a while. How does this happen?
I guess I feel a little bit like Homer, when he got frustrated with academics and brainiacs:
Look, cool stormbarrier:
And I have to ride through this:
That's just not right.
Why? Why in the name of all that's holy can a country that gets an exorbitant amount of precipitation (see old entry for evidence) not devise a decent drainage system? Why?
Let me explain: I bike to and from work; around 8 miles each way. Almost all the way on awesome bike paths and I love my commute. Thank you, Dutch tax payers. Really.
But: From September through April, there are basically puddles everywhere. Sometimes they stretch all the way across the bike path and stay there for days. Even if it hasn't rained in a while. How does this happen?
I guess I feel a little bit like Homer, when he got frustrated with academics and brainiacs:
Uuuh, a graduate student, huh? How come you guys can go to the moon but can't make my shoes smell good?I mean, really. The Dutch came up with this (admittedly pretty awesome) dam-system: Deltaworks.
Look, cool stormbarrier:
And I have to ride through this:
That's just not right.
November 5, 2008
This Might Be A Little Too Awesome
[I might have gotten a little carried away. Pathos abounds. I'm just excited. I'm sorry. I also spoke for an imaginary 'us' as if I am somehow the spokesperson of the non-U.S. (or at least the European)-world. Maybe I should be, but alas, I am not. I didn't want to be presumptuous. My sincere apologies roughly 6.4 billion people. Haha.]
I wonder whether most Americans, regardless of which candidate they supported during the long '08 campaign, have any idea about this. How great this feels. How excited the rest of the world is.
Americans as a whole are pretty self-confident already. Greatest nation, city upon a hill, and all that. I feel bad that I have to inflate the American ego even more, but here it comes: You do matter a lot to the rest of us. We do care about you and your actions. Your economic policies, your foreign policy, your opinions on issues like gun control, death penalty, abortion. - We might not agree or even violently oppose them. Still, we listen to what you have to say and we are watching you closely.
You are like a friend and lover to us. A slightly over-confident friend we admire, yet observe warily sometimes. We never really know what you are up to. We hope it is another great adventure we can participate in. We sometimes fear you might get yourself and us into major trouble.
We always admire you though. The ideals you stand for. The confident way you carry yourself. The unwavering faith you have in your own strength. You might even say we love you. And we want you to love us, too.
Right now, it feels like our long-term affair, an often painful relationship after all, is reignited. We're on fire. YOU'RE on fire. You did it. You elected a politician we've had a crush on for months. We feel the potential for great romance. An epic love story. We don't know what the next four years will bring, but we're excited. And hopeful. And full of anticipation of things to come.
There is lingering doubt that this might sound too good to be true. Great enthusiasm and hope bear tremendous potential for crushing disappointment and despair.
We're ready though. Ready to take risks. Ready to go out on a limb. Ready to trust you.
America. Obama. You make us want to be a better friend.
I wonder whether most Americans, regardless of which candidate they supported during the long '08 campaign, have any idea about this. How great this feels. How excited the rest of the world is.
Americans as a whole are pretty self-confident already. Greatest nation, city upon a hill, and all that. I feel bad that I have to inflate the American ego even more, but here it comes: You do matter a lot to the rest of us. We do care about you and your actions. Your economic policies, your foreign policy, your opinions on issues like gun control, death penalty, abortion. - We might not agree or even violently oppose them. Still, we listen to what you have to say and we are watching you closely.
You are like a friend and lover to us. A slightly over-confident friend we admire, yet observe warily sometimes. We never really know what you are up to. We hope it is another great adventure we can participate in. We sometimes fear you might get yourself and us into major trouble.
We always admire you though. The ideals you stand for. The confident way you carry yourself. The unwavering faith you have in your own strength. You might even say we love you. And we want you to love us, too.
Right now, it feels like our long-term affair, an often painful relationship after all, is reignited. We're on fire. YOU'RE on fire. You did it. You elected a politician we've had a crush on for months. We feel the potential for great romance. An epic love story. We don't know what the next four years will bring, but we're excited. And hopeful. And full of anticipation of things to come.
There is lingering doubt that this might sound too good to be true. Great enthusiasm and hope bear tremendous potential for crushing disappointment and despair.
We're ready though. Ready to take risks. Ready to go out on a limb. Ready to trust you.
America. Obama. You make us want to be a better friend.
November 4, 2008
Voting - I'm Loving It
Maybe my life is just really and truly sad. Or maybe I just really and truly appreciate the beauty and all-around-awesomeness of this day. Today. Election Day.
Finally.
I followed the primaries, I've seen the debates, I watched the TV commentaries and specials, I read the newspaper articles. I tried to get more insight into the issues I care most about or should care more about: Education, health care, the economy. I had discussions with friends, colleagues, and online weirdos.
I'm psyched.
I'm also bummed because for some reason I cannot wrap my head around the fact that a nation as grand and awe-inspiring as the USA (Yes, I'm a fan...) is experiencing and predicting such an abundance of problems. Morally reprehensible campaigning, disenfranchised blocks of voters, voter fraud, etc.
But more on this some other time...Maybe.
As usual, I do have a candidate I am rooting for (...with quite a bit of enthusiasm, too. Ha!), but today I'm even more excited about voting.
It's a simple enough process; a process most people take for granted or even choose to ignore.
Voting is a right and privilege many of our ancestors did not have. So they fought for it. Bitterly sometimes. Deciding not to vote or claiming that politics is not 'interesting' to you is like saying your life is not interesting to you. We live in societies. With other people. We all have shared interests. We drive on the same roads, go to the same schools, eat the same food. We all need a doctor or a police officer sometimes. We share responsibilities and tasks in societies.
So, hell yes! Transportation, education, food safety, health care, law enforcement -everything- is to some extent a shared endeavor.
Why would you not want to participate in the process that comes up with laws, guidelines and regulations? Why would you not want to make your voice heard?
Many of our contemporaries in other countries still do not have this right and privilege. Their opinions go unheard. They cannot cast their ballot and make a difference.
We can.
I feel supremely cheesy as I am typing all this, but I don't care: Today I want to revel in the glory of the voting process, the beauty of the democratic system. Voting. So simple, yet so beautiful.
I'm loving it.
Finally.
I followed the primaries, I've seen the debates, I watched the TV commentaries and specials, I read the newspaper articles. I tried to get more insight into the issues I care most about or should care more about: Education, health care, the economy. I had discussions with friends, colleagues, and online weirdos.
I'm psyched.
I'm also bummed because for some reason I cannot wrap my head around the fact that a nation as grand and awe-inspiring as the USA (Yes, I'm a fan...) is experiencing and predicting such an abundance of problems. Morally reprehensible campaigning, disenfranchised blocks of voters, voter fraud, etc.
But more on this some other time...Maybe.
As usual, I do have a candidate I am rooting for (...with quite a bit of enthusiasm, too. Ha!), but today I'm even more excited about voting.
It's a simple enough process; a process most people take for granted or even choose to ignore.
Voting is a right and privilege many of our ancestors did not have. So they fought for it. Bitterly sometimes. Deciding not to vote or claiming that politics is not 'interesting' to you is like saying your life is not interesting to you. We live in societies. With other people. We all have shared interests. We drive on the same roads, go to the same schools, eat the same food. We all need a doctor or a police officer sometimes. We share responsibilities and tasks in societies.
So, hell yes! Transportation, education, food safety, health care, law enforcement -everything- is to some extent a shared endeavor.
Why would you not want to participate in the process that comes up with laws, guidelines and regulations? Why would you not want to make your voice heard?
Many of our contemporaries in other countries still do not have this right and privilege. Their opinions go unheard. They cannot cast their ballot and make a difference.
We can.
I feel supremely cheesy as I am typing all this, but I don't care: Today I want to revel in the glory of the voting process, the beauty of the democratic system. Voting. So simple, yet so beautiful.
I'm loving it.
October 25, 2008
Chicago Marathon 2008 - Bigger Is Better
Yes, bigger is indeed better. A big city/huge crowd-marathon like Chicago was definitely the right choice for me. And no, being bigger weight-wise than I used to be a few months ago was not better. Haha. More excuses later...
If this whole entry seems a bit incoherent and unstructured, I apologize. The whole experience was a little overwhelming. There were so many things going on in my head and during the race, I experienced a little information-overload that I still haven't been able to organize completely...
The one thing I've been wondering about for the last two weeks: How long are you allowed to brag about your first marathon? A few days? A week? A month? Forever? Haha.
Well, long story short: I did it. Not fast, but I did it. On October 12, 2008, I dragged my tired ass over the finish line of the Chicago Marathon. Ha! Actually, that's not completely accurate. Yes, I was tired and exhausted, but I wasn't dragging, at least that's not how I felt. I felt pretty damn energized.
I cannot figure out how to illegally save the pictures off of the MarathonFoto website, but believe me, I have this huge grin on my face in all of the pictures.
I'm the one in all black on the right side.
Oh, and I saw this the day before the race on Lake Michigan, and for some reason found it both fitting and hilarious:
The race was fantastic. A little too warm for my taste and for what I am used to here in the Netherlands, but because there were so many water/Gatorade-stations, it wasn't such a big deal...
To me, it felt as if the whole city was in marathon-mode, even before race day. Pretty awesome.
I started out in the back of the huge crowd (Get this, after the race, I get an email that says I was finisher #14,000-something out of 31,000. Haha. It's like a town twice the size of my home town was on the move. Awesome.) and just tried to pace myself through the whole thing, trying not to freak out. The first 10 miles felt good and I just trudged along at a 10-minute-mile pace or so. Chicago is definitely a great city to run in and I loved the crowds...
Also, I have never had a very...well, let's call it 'strong' opinion on mp3-players during races (I do believe in following race-rules; so if a race organizer wants to ban them, I will abide. Easy enough, in my opinion...).
The Chicago Marathon has definitely changed that. I felt bad for the runners who decided to block out the rest of the race: Fellow runners, volunteers, the crowds. They missed out on my favorite part: The support of other humans who are passionate about what you are passionate about. Running. Moving. Testing your limits. Being out there and trying something new.
Anyway, I loved saying 'Thank you' to every volunteer who handed me a cup of water or sports drink. I loved commenting on other people's outfits. I loved wishing one runner "Happy Birthday" and congratulating another on her successful fight against cancer (Tons of people with messages/their names on their shirts or bodies - So much to see/read/take in...). Yes, I loved the whole thing. Being out there on my own and still feeling connected to my surroundings, the sea of humans out there with me.
OK, a little cheesy, sorry. It was just a great day.
So the first 10-15 miles went by, I was doing fine. Not going fast, but feeling fine. A little freaked out about getting 'food' in (The only refueling I had every tried was one packet of sports beans during my one really long run. Yes, I know. Not smart.) and just the whole craziness of actually doing a marathon. Me. A marathon. Argh.
My training all year had been sporadic at best, my weight hadn't been where I need it to be for running, I had had a hard time getting motivated. Wonderful. I had done one 3 1/2 hour run in September, figuring that that would approximately be twenty miles.
Yes, I know, lame excuses and all stuff that could have been fixed. By me. And me alone. Just trying to explain why I was a little apprehensive before and during the race and why this undercurrent of anxiety got more and more pronounced the closer I got to the 20-mile mark of the race.
I guess that while I hadn't actually been running as much as I had planned to at the beginning of the year (when I signed up for the race), I had read a shitload about running and racing. I had definitely heard too much about 'the wall'. Yikes. So at mile 15 I was getting a little freaked out. How was I going to deal with cramps or whatever else awful could happen? No way would I drop out after freaking flying to another country to run a race. No no.
Well, I came up with this strategy (That, yes, I might have stolen from one of the gazillion articles I had read on running. Who knows?) that I would 'dedicate' the last seven miles to my six closest family members and one other person I really care about.
Sounds pathetic and overly dramatic, but it worked like a charm. It took me a few miles to figure out how I would actually do it (Haha, seems like my mind was not working at top-speed anymore..); and I organized my parents, two grandmas, two brothers and my friend alphabetically. Seemed logical to me at the time.
So mile 19 started off with my paternal grandmother. I kind of ran through her life in my head. Date of birth, where and how she grew up, how she met my grandpa, etc. etc. This kept me busy and entertained.
Don't want to bore you with all the details, but my mom's mile almost had me crying already (What the?), Buemml's mile featured rock music (Really! It was almost too perfect. The mile marker came and there was a 'music station'. How fitting.) and I remembered Luke's "Go get them, tiger!", which has been a joke between the two of us for 15+ years. Dad's mile was mile 25 and I had to smile because there was no way I could walk or give up now, because he would kick my butt for not sticking with it. Right around that time, I knew I would have to give myself permission to cry a little at the finish line. And I knew that there was no way I wouldn't make it. I would freaking crawl it in if need be.
Anyway, mile 26 kind of went by in a blur while I kept thinking that one mile really isn't that far. Sure felt far though. Looking around, there were people hurting way more than I did, because apart from a little discomfort in the thighs, no wall. Ha! Must have been the slow pace or the mental games I was playing with myself...
The last bit of the race was just amazing. Tons of people on both sides of the 'running path' kept shouting and yelling...The course went uphill for a tiny bit, one last left turn and Yay! the finish line. Right then and there, I couldn't stop smiling. Must have looked weird, but I just couldn't wipe the grin of my face. And yes, I cried after I crossed the finish line. Just a little though. Here's a picture of my medal and the chocolate medal a co-worker gave me.
And yes, I hereby officially conclude my bragging about my first marathon.
Time to set my sights on the next goal. Off to bigger and better --- no wait: Bigger marathon? - Not necessarily. Although I do believe that I'm more comfortable in bigger races. So much easier to blend in with the masses. Makes me less self-conscious.
Bigger Me? - Most definitely not. This whole experience would have been even more fun with less pounds to move across 26.2 miles.
Better time? - Hopefully.
Better experience? - Maybe not possible, because I had such an amazing few days and race in Chicago. We'll see.
Until then, thank you Chicago, it was fun.
If this whole entry seems a bit incoherent and unstructured, I apologize. The whole experience was a little overwhelming. There were so many things going on in my head and during the race, I experienced a little information-overload that I still haven't been able to organize completely...
The one thing I've been wondering about for the last two weeks: How long are you allowed to brag about your first marathon? A few days? A week? A month? Forever? Haha.
Well, long story short: I did it. Not fast, but I did it. On October 12, 2008, I dragged my tired ass over the finish line of the Chicago Marathon. Ha! Actually, that's not completely accurate. Yes, I was tired and exhausted, but I wasn't dragging, at least that's not how I felt. I felt pretty damn energized.
I cannot figure out how to illegally save the pictures off of the MarathonFoto website, but believe me, I have this huge grin on my face in all of the pictures.
I'm the one in all black on the right side. Oh, and I saw this the day before the race on Lake Michigan, and for some reason found it both fitting and hilarious:
The race was fantastic. A little too warm for my taste and for what I am used to here in the Netherlands, but because there were so many water/Gatorade-stations, it wasn't such a big deal...To me, it felt as if the whole city was in marathon-mode, even before race day. Pretty awesome.
I started out in the back of the huge crowd (Get this, after the race, I get an email that says I was finisher #14,000-something out of 31,000. Haha. It's like a town twice the size of my home town was on the move. Awesome.) and just tried to pace myself through the whole thing, trying not to freak out. The first 10 miles felt good and I just trudged along at a 10-minute-mile pace or so. Chicago is definitely a great city to run in and I loved the crowds...
Also, I have never had a very...well, let's call it 'strong' opinion on mp3-players during races (I do believe in following race-rules; so if a race organizer wants to ban them, I will abide. Easy enough, in my opinion...).
The Chicago Marathon has definitely changed that. I felt bad for the runners who decided to block out the rest of the race: Fellow runners, volunteers, the crowds. They missed out on my favorite part: The support of other humans who are passionate about what you are passionate about. Running. Moving. Testing your limits. Being out there and trying something new.
Anyway, I loved saying 'Thank you' to every volunteer who handed me a cup of water or sports drink. I loved commenting on other people's outfits. I loved wishing one runner "Happy Birthday" and congratulating another on her successful fight against cancer (Tons of people with messages/their names on their shirts or bodies - So much to see/read/take in...). Yes, I loved the whole thing. Being out there on my own and still feeling connected to my surroundings, the sea of humans out there with me.
OK, a little cheesy, sorry. It was just a great day.
So the first 10-15 miles went by, I was doing fine. Not going fast, but feeling fine. A little freaked out about getting 'food' in (The only refueling I had every tried was one packet of sports beans during my one really long run. Yes, I know. Not smart.) and just the whole craziness of actually doing a marathon. Me. A marathon. Argh.
My training all year had been sporadic at best, my weight hadn't been where I need it to be for running, I had had a hard time getting motivated. Wonderful. I had done one 3 1/2 hour run in September, figuring that that would approximately be twenty miles.
Yes, I know, lame excuses and all stuff that could have been fixed. By me. And me alone. Just trying to explain why I was a little apprehensive before and during the race and why this undercurrent of anxiety got more and more pronounced the closer I got to the 20-mile mark of the race.
I guess that while I hadn't actually been running as much as I had planned to at the beginning of the year (when I signed up for the race), I had read a shitload about running and racing. I had definitely heard too much about 'the wall'. Yikes. So at mile 15 I was getting a little freaked out. How was I going to deal with cramps or whatever else awful could happen? No way would I drop out after freaking flying to another country to run a race. No no.
Well, I came up with this strategy (That, yes, I might have stolen from one of the gazillion articles I had read on running. Who knows?) that I would 'dedicate' the last seven miles to my six closest family members and one other person I really care about.
Sounds pathetic and overly dramatic, but it worked like a charm. It took me a few miles to figure out how I would actually do it (Haha, seems like my mind was not working at top-speed anymore..); and I organized my parents, two grandmas, two brothers and my friend alphabetically. Seemed logical to me at the time.
So mile 19 started off with my paternal grandmother. I kind of ran through her life in my head. Date of birth, where and how she grew up, how she met my grandpa, etc. etc. This kept me busy and entertained.
Don't want to bore you with all the details, but my mom's mile almost had me crying already (What the?), Buemml's mile featured rock music (Really! It was almost too perfect. The mile marker came and there was a 'music station'. How fitting.) and I remembered Luke's "Go get them, tiger!", which has been a joke between the two of us for 15+ years. Dad's mile was mile 25 and I had to smile because there was no way I could walk or give up now, because he would kick my butt for not sticking with it. Right around that time, I knew I would have to give myself permission to cry a little at the finish line. And I knew that there was no way I wouldn't make it. I would freaking crawl it in if need be.
Anyway, mile 26 kind of went by in a blur while I kept thinking that one mile really isn't that far. Sure felt far though. Looking around, there were people hurting way more than I did, because apart from a little discomfort in the thighs, no wall. Ha! Must have been the slow pace or the mental games I was playing with myself...
The last bit of the race was just amazing. Tons of people on both sides of the 'running path' kept shouting and yelling...The course went uphill for a tiny bit, one last left turn and Yay! the finish line. Right then and there, I couldn't stop smiling. Must have looked weird, but I just couldn't wipe the grin of my face. And yes, I cried after I crossed the finish line. Just a little though. Here's a picture of my medal and the chocolate medal a co-worker gave me.
And yes, I hereby officially conclude my bragging about my first marathon. Time to set my sights on the next goal. Off to bigger and better --- no wait: Bigger marathon? - Not necessarily. Although I do believe that I'm more comfortable in bigger races. So much easier to blend in with the masses. Makes me less self-conscious.
Bigger Me? - Most definitely not. This whole experience would have been even more fun with less pounds to move across 26.2 miles.
Better time? - Hopefully.
Better experience? - Maybe not possible, because I had such an amazing few days and race in Chicago. We'll see.
Until then, thank you Chicago, it was fun.
October 6, 2008
Ouch. Has It Really Been More Than Two Months?
Oh man. It's not like nothing happened in my life. Or that I have an excellent excuse (like not having internet access, being incredibly busy with matters of international importance or similar...). Just been...yea...plain lazy.
I have a few notes though and two races to write about. So bear with me. I'll be back.
Soon.
I have a few notes though and two races to write about. So bear with me. I'll be back.
Soon.
July 27, 2008
Bavarians Do It Better
On a bike ride last week I came across this:
A flagpole with the Bavarian flag on top, the German flag hanging much lower. Sheesh.
It made me giggle, because it very accurately represents the Bavarian attitude towards most everybody else: You're OK, but there's no denying that we are the best. Deal with it.
While I do not always agree with that statement (Especially when it comes to politics, conservatism, entanglement of church and state, conservatism, ...Argh, maybe I have to rant about this some other time...), I will say this: Bavarians know how to party and how to put together a kick-ass race.
Which brings me to today's topic: The 2008 Arber Radmarathon, the 24th edition of a bike race which starts and ends in Regensburg, a city close to my parents' home.
My dad had done the race twice before and for some reason I thought I was in decent enough shape to go do it with him this year. The term 'race' might be a bit misleading, because there is no timing or actual racing. Bikers show up at a designated time and do one of the different tours at whatever pace they are comfortable...Some are definitely going fast though, it was pretty impressive.
There were four tours for road bikes and two for mountain bikes. The organizers had also included a tour for families with small kids.
Well, dad and I decided on the second shortest tour (Tour C in yellow in the picture below), but it seemed daunting enough for me. I don't think I've ever biked much further than 100K at a time...
And at any rate, 170 and 250K (blue and purple route) seemed just insane, especially with the elevation. Yikes!
Here's the elevation profile of our ride. The hill at kilometer 80 sucked the most: Tired legs + elevation = no fun.
Well, we set off with what seemed hundreds and hundreds of others at 7AM (All the tours combined had 7000+ bikers.). I started off pretty slow, didn't want to run out of gas halfway. Dad told me later that he was a little worried in the beginning. Guess he wasn't worried so much later, because I think I did alright on the hills. And it got pretty hilly pretty fast. Some nice downhills as well, my maximum speed was 60km/h, which is fast for me...
All in all it was an excellent and amazingly exhausting bike ride. The ride led us through beautiful scenery. Of course, I was too lazy to take a lot of pictures...Here's a few random dudes:
And why do Bavarians do it better?
First off, the organizers, volunteers and the police did a great job patrolling the roads. Much nicer to ride on streets/in towns with less or no traffic...
Secondly, the food/drink stations were really well run. They had all kinds of stuff, and of course the last station had beer already! Haha.
At the end of the ride, there was a huge party with all kinds of food and drink again. Every participant got three drink/food vouchers, which dad immediately exchanged for two more beers and brats.
Don't know how he (and a lot of the others) do it. No way I could down a beer and fatty food right after a ride or run...
Oh, and we got a decent-looking bike jersey at the end as well.
A pretty amazing day, all for the low price of 30 Euros and utter exhaustion.
A flagpole with the Bavarian flag on top, the German flag hanging much lower. Sheesh.It made me giggle, because it very accurately represents the Bavarian attitude towards most everybody else: You're OK, but there's no denying that we are the best. Deal with it.
While I do not always agree with that statement (Especially when it comes to politics, conservatism, entanglement of church and state, conservatism, ...Argh, maybe I have to rant about this some other time...), I will say this: Bavarians know how to party and how to put together a kick-ass race.
Which brings me to today's topic: The 2008 Arber Radmarathon, the 24th edition of a bike race which starts and ends in Regensburg, a city close to my parents' home.
My dad had done the race twice before and for some reason I thought I was in decent enough shape to go do it with him this year. The term 'race' might be a bit misleading, because there is no timing or actual racing. Bikers show up at a designated time and do one of the different tours at whatever pace they are comfortable...Some are definitely going fast though, it was pretty impressive.
There were four tours for road bikes and two for mountain bikes. The organizers had also included a tour for families with small kids.
Well, dad and I decided on the second shortest tour (Tour C in yellow in the picture below), but it seemed daunting enough for me. I don't think I've ever biked much further than 100K at a time...
And at any rate, 170 and 250K (blue and purple route) seemed just insane, especially with the elevation. Yikes!
Here's the elevation profile of our ride. The hill at kilometer 80 sucked the most: Tired legs + elevation = no fun.
Well, we set off with what seemed hundreds and hundreds of others at 7AM (All the tours combined had 7000+ bikers.). I started off pretty slow, didn't want to run out of gas halfway. Dad told me later that he was a little worried in the beginning. Guess he wasn't worried so much later, because I think I did alright on the hills. And it got pretty hilly pretty fast. Some nice downhills as well, my maximum speed was 60km/h, which is fast for me...
All in all it was an excellent and amazingly exhausting bike ride. The ride led us through beautiful scenery. Of course, I was too lazy to take a lot of pictures...Here's a few random dudes:
And why do Bavarians do it better?
First off, the organizers, volunteers and the police did a great job patrolling the roads. Much nicer to ride on streets/in towns with less or no traffic...
Secondly, the food/drink stations were really well run. They had all kinds of stuff, and of course the last station had beer already! Haha.
At the end of the ride, there was a huge party with all kinds of food and drink again. Every participant got three drink/food vouchers, which dad immediately exchanged for two more beers and brats.
Don't know how he (and a lot of the others) do it. No way I could down a beer and fatty food right after a ride or run...
Oh, and we got a decent-looking bike jersey at the end as well.
A pretty amazing day, all for the low price of 30 Euros and utter exhaustion.
July 10, 2008
The Woods Were Lovely, I Was Weak
Now I Have Promises To Keep.
Grr. Promises to my 13-year-old self.
[Oh, my apologies to Robert Frost.]
-----
I was a little ticked off yesterday:
Unbeknownst to me, I have turned into a grade-A-pussy.
No, not really. It's all good.
I did surprise myself though, and not in a good way.
See, I've always considered myself a bit of a tomboy, a girl who can keep up with the boys, play in the dirt (and dirty) and do anything a man can do. Maybe even better. Haha.
Well, long story short, I usually feel a bit dare-devilish on the bike. Flying down hills at (relatively) high speeds, leaning into curves, mountain-biking in the woods and such.
Took one of Dad's mountain bikes out for a spin yesterday and holy shit, I got a little scared! I braked a lot, went surprisingly slow down the slopes and was actually glad when I found an asphalt road.
I wasn't happy. What happened? When did I turn into an old lady? Is the Dutch flatness to blame, where a 100m long slightly sloped stretch of land is considered a major elevation? Is it old age?
Whatever it is, this trend better be reversed or at least stalled for a while...I'll make it my mission to get some of the youthful tomboyishness back while I'm on vacation.
Maybe I can even get a bruise as a badge of honor. For old time's sake. Just a small and non-dangerous one of course...
The 13-year-old who crashed her bike during a mad race-as-fast-possible-through-those-deep-puddles contest is still in there somewhere. She has to be.
Some pictures taken during the ride:
The tame trails.
12% slope. Fun going down, not as much fun going up. I can't believe how much even these easy things hurt after only biking in flat surroundings for so long.
Famous monument close to my parents' place. Built in 1815 by Ludwig I, King of Bavaria, to commemorate the war against Napoleon and to just brag about our general awesomeness.
Grr. Promises to my 13-year-old self.
[Oh, my apologies to Robert Frost.]
-----
I was a little ticked off yesterday:
Unbeknownst to me, I have turned into a grade-A-pussy.
No, not really. It's all good.
I did surprise myself though, and not in a good way.
See, I've always considered myself a bit of a tomboy, a girl who can keep up with the boys, play in the dirt (and dirty) and do anything a man can do. Maybe even better. Haha.
Well, long story short, I usually feel a bit dare-devilish on the bike. Flying down hills at (relatively) high speeds, leaning into curves, mountain-biking in the woods and such.
Took one of Dad's mountain bikes out for a spin yesterday and holy shit, I got a little scared! I braked a lot, went surprisingly slow down the slopes and was actually glad when I found an asphalt road.
I wasn't happy. What happened? When did I turn into an old lady? Is the Dutch flatness to blame, where a 100m long slightly sloped stretch of land is considered a major elevation? Is it old age?
Whatever it is, this trend better be reversed or at least stalled for a while...I'll make it my mission to get some of the youthful tomboyishness back while I'm on vacation.
Maybe I can even get a bruise as a badge of honor. For old time's sake. Just a small and non-dangerous one of course...
The 13-year-old who crashed her bike during a mad race-as-fast-possible-through-those-deep-puddles contest is still in there somewhere. She has to be.
Some pictures taken during the ride:
The tame trails.
12% slope. Fun going down, not as much fun going up. I can't believe how much even these easy things hurt after only biking in flat surroundings for so long.
Famous monument close to my parents' place. Built in 1815 by Ludwig I, King of Bavaria, to commemorate the war against Napoleon and to just brag about our general awesomeness.July 9, 2008
Home Is Where The Heart Is
Den Haag is my home now. There. I said it. 
I didn't feel this way for quite a while. It took me almost two years to consider the city on the North Sea "my home". I always liked living in the area; it's a beautiful and interesting part of Europe.
That said, I liked it, somewhat like you might like a hotel. It's agreeable, it has all the necessary amenities, you can't complain. But it's like any other hotel; interchangeable, temporary. No permanent attachment whatsoever.
That is how I started out in Den Haag. A partner who had no love for the place or the people. A partner who had only a temporary work assignment. A partner who treated the place like a hotel. A luxury hotel, nonetheless, but not a home.
Now that I've inhabited the city by myself for 17 months, I realize that my feelings towards it have slowly changed.
I moved from a 19th floor luxury-apartment (which could have been in any major city of the world; no signs of anything Dutch or local…) to a small apartment that I shared with a roommate (well, three different ones, but one at a time). The apartment had the steep, small Dutch stairwells, a tiny balcony that felt crowded, but cozy. Every way you looked, there were people, neighbors.
The apartment was located in the "most Dutch" part of Den Haag, the seaside resort Scheveningen, a place with the wonderfully decrepit charm of better days.
I could hear the neighbors' baby cry and the students across the road have a party. I said "Hello" to my Dutch neighbors, who rode their bikes to work, planted flowers on the sidewalk and didn’t seem to care that they lived so close together and in plain view of each other.
I felt as if I was finally living in Holland.
I moved last month but the feeling of authenticity hasn't changed. My new place is in a different area, but the concept stays the same. I live IN Den Haag now, not above it. Literally and figuratively. Ground floor instead of 19th floor. Meeting neighbors instead of avoiding them.
I feel more connected to the city and its people. I finally call Den Haag my home. I bike and run through its streets, dunes, and parks. I curse and enjoy its temperamental weather; its relentless rain, infuriating wind and gentle sunshine. I admire its architecture and history, its place in the world. I celebrate its festivals and diverse inhabitants. I'm at home.
Den Haag has slowly and stealthily made its way into my heart. And regardless of what's next on tap, it will always stay there.
July 7, 2008
Come On, Stalin, Light My Fire?
I'm dragging some stuff home from the store, walking past the museum; a place I have biked past a million times. I guess I'm usually fast as lightening (bahaha), because I had never noticed this before:
Some kind of art installation in what I can only assume is a old phone-booth-like fire alarm. And yes, that's a bust of Joseph Stalin surrounded by red felt.
But wait! It gets better: There's a old-timey-looking lamp and a plastic fish inside.
Somebody care to take a guess what all this means?
-- In case of imminent threat of communism call the fire brigade?
-- Stalin's opinions were fishy?
-- Examine socialism under a bright light?
WTF?
Some kind of art installation in what I can only assume is a old phone-booth-like fire alarm. And yes, that's a bust of Joseph Stalin surrounded by red felt.
But wait! It gets better: There's a old-timey-looking lamp and a plastic fish inside.
Somebody care to take a guess what all this means?
-- In case of imminent threat of communism call the fire brigade?
-- Stalin's opinions were fishy?
-- Examine socialism under a bright light?
WTF?
June 30, 2008
Ocean Living Rules Supreme
Not a lot to say, just a few pictures from my after school bike ride through the dunes. I took my regular route towards Monster, just tried to get a few different shots.
One of the many different walk/run paths through the dunes:
There are usually two different paths; one for biking (fietspad - on the right) and one for pedestrians/runners.
The ocean is just a couple of hundred meters away...
My trusty (rusty) companion. Amazing how many miles I have gotten out of this bike. Pretty good deal...
Some of the greenhouses along the way. The really huge ones are in a different area of the country though.
One of the quieter beaches. It's about 10K from Den Haag, most tourists don't make it out here.
Dutch version of Baywatch:
The not-so-pretty sight of Europe's largest port (Rotterdam) in the distance.
And just for Riley:
One of the many different walk/run paths through the dunes:
There are usually two different paths; one for biking (fietspad - on the right) and one for pedestrians/runners.
The ocean is just a couple of hundred meters away...
My trusty (rusty) companion. Amazing how many miles I have gotten out of this bike. Pretty good deal...
Some of the greenhouses along the way. The really huge ones are in a different area of the country though.
One of the quieter beaches. It's about 10K from Den Haag, most tourists don't make it out here.
Dutch version of Baywatch:
The not-so-pretty sight of Europe's largest port (Rotterdam) in the distance.
And just for Riley:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
