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.

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.

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.

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?

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:

Swearing - 'Linguistic Art Form' Or Just Laziness?

I've been thinking about this for a while and the untimely demise of George Carlin seems as good an occasion as any to pick this up again.

For as long as I can remember I've been fascinated with language. Just the sheer awesomeness and variety of it. Language and speech are such wonderful and varied tools of communication. The innumerable ways language can be used, celebrated, and manipulated just boggle the mind...

The obsession got worse once I decided to be a linguistics major...Well, and the fascination shows no signs of decreasing any time soon.
I love books, magazines, newspapers, blogs. I appreciate tricky crossword puzzles, wordplay, a clever comeback, memorable quotes.

You get the picture. I should probably write about language more often, just because the subject is so extensive and fascinating, it makes my head hurt. It feels like my thoughts on language are very crowded and unstructured in my mind. Maybe writing some of them down would help untangle the weird web of words.
(Yes, I appreciate alliterations, too. Ha!)

So swearing:

I vaguely remember writing a term paper on swearing and taboo words years ago. Of course, the paper is nowhere to be found. I think it was on the relative 'offensiveness' of certain swearwords. Some are absolute no-gos. Others are probably acceptable. It all depends on context and audience. Hmm. Good place to post this:

(I don't like the collage-video, but the audio portion is great.)

Well, what's my point? I love swearing. I think it adds color and expression to statements. There are not many things more satisfying than a passionate rant littered with swearwords. To me, at least.
Also, from a purely scientific standpoint, no word or expression can be 'bad' or 'unacceptable'. It's all society and associations superimposed on the language...

Of course, language and communication are always 'in context'. So I cannot ignore the fact that there are other people listening and evaluating what I say; people judging me on the way I choose to express myself.

Which brings me to the dilemma: Is swearing a flawed way of communicating after all? Is the frequent use of cuss-words a sign of mediocre language skills? A sign of laziness? Crudeness? Vulgarity? Lack of taste?

I think it could be in some cases. It could be a sign of subpar linguistic expression if you can't reign your swearing in. If you use the same set of words and phrases with everybody; be it your boss, a judge or your brother. The beauty of language is that it's so diverse. Language can be beautiful or coarse, direct or indirect, delicate or sturdy.

That said, I want to be able to use the whole array of words. To forgo all swearing would be censoring myself and it would cut out a significant chunk of the communication tools at my disposal.

Sometimes I want to swear. Loudly. Or mutter a curse under my breath.

So to sum this up:
Fuck, yes. It's an art.

Soccer Mania

It's over. Damnation.

It sure was wonderful to see the whole country being excited and hopeful about the Euro-Soccer Tournament this year.
The Dutch are crazy about their national soccer team and seem to have an inexplicable love for and fascination with the color orange.

I had planned on taking some pictures of the symbols of pride displayed all over, and I took a few...After the devastating loss (Yes, I was a little sad, too...) on Saturday, some of my Dutch neighbors have taken their flags and decorations down, but I might still get lucky...

Here are some pictures of a quite uniquely adorned car and the obligatory little flags outside a local restaurant:

Oh, and when visiting my aunt and uncle in Germany two weeks ago, I was just about to tell them how ridiculously obsessed the Dutch are, when I say this:

Yes, flags galore. In windows, on cars, on bikes.
Guess we all love soccer and a little colorful craziness. It's a good thing, too.

Saw a car with a Turkish-flag flying proudly from its window while I was out running today. Yea, enjoy it while you can...Wednesday. 8:45PM. Game on.

And Now For Something Completely Different....

I know my mom reads all the crap I post here. Which is normal I guess, seeing as she is my mom and HAS to be interested, haha.
But in addition to having to sift through the random thoughts, she also has to do it in a foreign language.
Torture x2, ey?

So, thank you, Mom. Looking forward to July.
Can you believe these are 23 years old?


[Oh, and one of these days you'll figure out how to post a comment, too...]

Loyalty

I'm a big believer in loyalty. Loyalty in all areas of life. Loyalty to family, partners, friends, co-workers, bosses.

This loyalty-complex might be one of the reasons why I'm often considered too private or 'bottled-up'. For example, I just don't like talking about boyfriend-problems with other people. I consider that a breach of loyalty. In a way even after a relationship is over.

Anyway, I've been thinking about loyalty in the work environment lately.

I work as Administrative Assistant (yea, glorified secretary, I know...), and in that position I get a lot of information about teachers, students, parents, etc. I have an excellent relationship with my boss and we joke about and share a lot of 'inside information'.

We have almost 70 staff members, and naturally I get along great with some (who I actually consider friends) and not so great with others. I try to stay professional at all times (even though the urge to gossip is definitely there...) and my primary loyalty is to my boss, as we are the "administrative team".

My problem with the whole work-loyalty is that I often have to defend or execute decisions that I don't agree with. Or cover up for mistakes I didn't make.
Not a fun part of the job.
I do voice my opinions to the people who make the decision, but as the 'office face', I stick with the 'party line'.

These loyalty issues are all small-scale, I realize, but they made me re-think my dream profession:
Well, one of my dream professions, I think I'd love his job, too:


[They were both characters on The West Wing, a TV show I couldn't get enough of. CJ was the Press Secretary to the President of the United States; Toby was the main Speech Writer.]

Would I be able to be the face of an organization/administration even if I'd disagree with some policies and decisions?
Is it always a good thing to keep up a united front?
When would it be time to cut my losses, leave, and write a tell-all book like Scott McClellan? (Who was on Talk of the Nation yesterday. Excellent show.)
And would I write a book like that? Or would I stay loyal? When does loyalty become an excuse for cowardice and when is it time to demonstrate dissent?

Aaah, my head is about to explode...

'Back in Black' or 'An Unofficial Duathlon'

[Disclaimer: I'm not trying to excuse anything, but I've been whining about this before...Lack of motivation and severe lack of training. - All self-inflicted though. Boo. I started running 'more seriously' again last August and prepared really well for my first 1/2 marathon in Amsterdam in October 2007. Tempo-runs, tons of long runs over 12 miles, even -gasp!- some speedwork (Well, "attempted speedwork"...Haha.). Ran the half, had a good time, thought I had my inherent slacker and overeating nature beat. Well, sometime around Christmas, for reasons unknown (Or maybe I just don't want to open up a can of emotional worms, who knows?), I completely lost my motivation. Managed to pack on weight, hardly ran, mostly biked. I managed to run the 1/2 in Austin alright, even though I was slower than during my first half. - I blamed the hills and not my expanding butt or lack of training. Well, 2008 so far was really low in running miles (200 or so) and my longest run was actually the Austin-Half in February. I think I ran 7.5 miles once after that. Sheesh.]

OK, so I spent last Saturday being uncharacteristically nervous and I hardly moved all day; in a feeble attempt to have 'fresh legs' on Sunday.

Sunday AM, I had the choice between tram + train + free shuttle or my bike. The bike won.
Biked 13 miles to Leiden (beautiful college town).
The race in Leiden is really well organized, but everybody seemed so professional. Somewhat intimidating, I thought. It was a beautiful day. Perfect running conditions, really.
After the Dutch National Anthem was played, the gun went off at 10:30AM.



Well, not much to say about the race, except that it seemed very, very long. Also, the water stations were set up every 5K, which for some reason seemed like a long stretch between drinks...I was so looking forward to the water/sports-drink. I walked through all of the water stations and once or twice otherwise, just to give me a break. Definitely my lamest 1/2 so far, hehe.

Good crowd support, too, and a nice course. Parts of it went through the city of Leiden, but there were quite a few stretches along the canals and fields. Pretty.

I must have been delusional at the 7K-marker already, because I thought "Uh, cool, more than half-way already." Haha, yea, not 7 miles, dumbo...

Three old, lecherous men commented on my running skirt and on how they were enjoying the 'scenery'. Sheesh. Men. But maybe they were delusional, too. Harhar.

I wouldn't say I struggled through the thing, I just took it easy and my goal was just to get to the finish line alive and without my knees acting up (Which worked...).

I did have some kick left at the end apparently, because I passed three people just before the finish line (No, they were not hugely overweight, old, or limping...).

All in all it was a fun race, even though I cursed every cookie, pizza and pint of ice cream I had downed since December...

Biked home, took a shower, collapsed on the couch...

Moral of the story:
It's more fun to run a race well-prepared and at a lower weight. (Surprise!)
A full marathon still seems overwhelming and very, very long. (But 4 1/2 is enough time to prepare, I hope.)
---
Uh, and 'Back in Black', because I wore all black. Skirt, shirt, hat, sunglasses. Very cool and very much incognito...

Imperfections

For the last two summers or so, I have been getting two weird sun-spots on my cheeks, kind of close to my nose. They come out at about the same time as the few freckles I have; just when I start to get a little tan...

The sun-spots used to bother me a little. They look slightly odd; plus they are evidence that my skin is a damaged (Actually, I blame Australia. I swear the one year there aged me about five. Damnation.). So, I use sunscreen more consistently now and try to make these skin flaws appear less obvious.

A few days ago at work, when applying some make-up and examining my skin more closely, I thought: Hell, who really gives a rat's ass. So I do have some damage. I have sun-spots and scars and freckles and moles.
I'm not perfect. I'm not unblemished.

A colleague/friend of mine gets blotchy, redish skin when she's upset or agitated. I love that. And I love that I know this about her. It's part of her and what makes her special.

I feel like people spend too much time trying to hide these small flaws; Flaws of both physical and psychological nature...

Keeping up appearances and a perfect image of oneself is too darn exhausting and a waste of time.

I'm still going to use sunscreen, I guess, but I won't be worrying too much anymore...I have flaws, wrinkles, and scars, and I won't be afraid to get some more...

Here's to imperfections!

Fighting For The Smallest Goal...

...To Gain A Little Self-Control.

[Stolen from Bartender514 on my favorite message board; who in turn stole it from Ted Leo and the Pharmacists.]

Not a lot to say, the line just strikes a cord with me.

Agent Mulder Strikes Again

I have no patience or desire to get hooked on TV shows and then have a schedule to follow, i.e. Monday is Desperate Housewives-night, Tuesday it's Lost, and so on.
Not necessarily because my life is so exciting and unpredictable that I would miss a lot of episodes on account of real-life adventures and escapades. No, I just like to get all addicted to one show and then watch nothing but said show for days or weeks.

I just recently caught up on Lost, a show which gave me a multitude of wonderfully confusing WTF-moments. Still not entirely sure whether I actually like the show or not. Meh.

A show I just recently discovered and could potentially really like: Californication with David Duchovny, the dude from X-files.
Duchonvny plays a superbly cranky, witty, messed-up writer. Some great lines and of course it doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes. Haha.

Family First in New Zealand apparently doesn't like the show, which is...hmm...a glowing endorsement in my book...


Sample scenes:

Hank Moody and a women are in bed. He just woke up from a bad dream and makes her laugh with some funny lines....

Woman (laughs): "LOL."
Moody: "What was that?"
W: "Hmm?"
M: "What did you just say? Just now?"
W: "What?"
M: "LOL? Laugh out loud?"
W: "Yea."
M: "That's part of your lexicon? Really? LOL?"
W: "Shouldn't it be part of yours, too? You are writing for cyperspace, you know?"
M: "Oh. And there goes my boner...Wave bye bye..."
W: "What is your issue with LOL?"
M: "I don't have an issue unless you count that fact that every time you say it, you contribute to the death of the English language"
W: "So let me get this straight. You gonna let the fact that I just said LOL get in the way of me giving you the best BJ of your life?"
M: "Not when you put it that way...
(Woman keeps kissing him)
M: "Yea, I'm not the biggest fan of the term BJ either.."

OMG, can I relate. Hehe.

Well, in case you want to watch some more...

Gear! Need More Gear!

I wonder if running/biking/swimming (Or any kind of sport/hobby really) is just another excuse to buy more stuff...

I have enough tech T-shirts, socks, shoes and other assorted equipment, but I could always use more!
Right now, I have my eye on this:
Could sure use it for my next race (whenever that will be)...

Oh and I have NO idea why, but the next big gear purchase will be...yes...a pink bike. Somewhat like this one. With my name on it. Wonderful.

Freakishly Tan Faces. Plus Flags.

As reported previously, the weather has been fabulous lately.
True to form, a lot of Dutch people at work already sport a freakishly dark tan. Seriously people, WTF? It's May 5th, and yes, we can tell that you either roasted for hours on the beach or in some artificial tan place.
Not a cool look.

Maybe it's because there isn't a lot of sun here or something, I don't know...But a lot of Dutch people seem to be obsessed with being tan. And after age 30 (and apparently quite a few years of extreme exposure), the skin does not look pretty at all. Think leathery face, neck, and ...gasp...boob area.

Oh, and on a less judgmental note: Today was "Liberation Day" (Bevrijdingsdag). Many houses sported a Dutch flag to commemorate the liberation from the Germans in 1945.