UNICEF 10K - Bogota Edition

Last Sunday, I ran a 10K race sponsored by UNICEF in an effort to raise money for poorer communities around Colombia.  

The experience was really fun, as this was my first official race since moving here.  It has taken me a while to get back on the running bandwagon since having R ( A YEAR AGO!) and I knew the only thing that would get me back out there was a new goal (i.e. a race to train for).  So, I finally signed up and just committed to it.  And I'm glad I did.  I slowly got back out on the running trails, pollution and high altitude be damned, and continuously picked up my distance until I was ready.  I joked on the morning of the race that after I had E, I trained and ran a marathon to get back into shape.  After I had D, I trained and ran a half-marathon.  And after I had R, I trained and ran a 10K.  In other words, my expectations of myself have gotten progressively worse with each subsequent child.

And while last Sunday wasn't my best showing--I was nearly 10 minutes slower than previous 10K pace-- I am just happy to have gotten out there and finished.  

Now that I have my motivation back, I can't wait for the next race.  The embassy does a great job of organizing at least one race a month, so who knows?  Maybe after a couple of these 10Ks, I will work my way back up to half, and maybe even full marathon distance again.  A girl can dream, can't she?

Getting ready to run...exercises taking place in the background

Pre-race selfie--all of these guys left me in the dust at the start of the race :)

A blurry post-race photo so maybe you won't notice all the sweat.

Half-Marathon Complete!

S and I ran the Incirlik Air Base half-marathon last Saturday.  This was the race I had been training for since giving birth to D back in May.  My goal was simply to finish, and preferably not dead last. And I am happy to report, I reached my goal!

The race started at 6:00 a.m., which meant we had to be out the door and on the road by 5:15.  Our nanny, God bless her, arrived at 5:00 a.m. to watch the boys.  I knew the turnout would be small because the air base itself is rather small.  But I did not expect it to be so small.  I didn't get a complete count, but I would estimate there were only about 30 runners out there.  And some of them were doing the relay, so therefore not running the full 13.1 miles. 

We started on time and I set off on an easy pace.  S gave me a quick peck on the cheek and then promptly left me in the dust.  But no bother, I'm used to that during races.  He and I love to train together, but when the time comes to really do your best, S goes for it.  I settled back with a few other ladies who were about the same pace as me.  One lady was this amazing Dutch woman who I swear was part camel.  As I veered into the first water station at mile 3, she kept on running, stretching the distance between us a good bit.  When she breezed right on through the second and then third water station without stopping, I knew she was going to out-run me.  I mean, seriously, who can run that far without stopping for water?  Part camel, I tell ya.  Pretty soon she was so far ahead of me that she was out of my eye line, and I don't know for sure, but I think she finished about 15 minutes ahead of me.  I out-ran the other girl who had been pacing with me, though, so that felt a bit rewarding.  

There was a turnaround at the midway point.  I saw S running toward me, a good 40 minutes ahead of me by my calculations.  Then, later on, I spotted his colleague and our dear friend, J.  I did a quick estimation in my head and figured he was about 1.5 miles ahead of me.  He had jokingly told me at the start of the race that he would be embarrassed if I beat him because "you just had a baby!"  When he passed me at the turnaround, he yelled for me to slow down because I was catching up.  I thought, there is no way I can catch up to him, he's a good 1.5 miles ahead of me.  So I just zoned out and continued to run. 

Then, with about 3.5 miles left to go, I spotted J's blue shirt in the distance.  "Wow, I've really closed the gap," I thought.  But I still wasn't sure it was him.  So, as I cruised through a water station that he had just been through, I asked. "Does that guy have on a blue shirt with George Washington on the front?"   "Yes," they replied, "And he said he's trying to beat you, so get going! Catch him!"  

So, I picked up the pace.  I could see the gap getting smaller and smaller.  He was within shouting distance, so I yelled, "I got you in my sights, J!  You better get a move on!"  He was struggling, I could tell, but he was determined to not get beat by a girl.  And a girl who had just had a baby, at that. So, he picked up his pace.  I picked up mine.  Then, we both realized we were about to throw up, so we dialed it back a bit.  

About 1 mile from the finish, I saw S walking toward me.  He had clearly finished the race and had doubled back to find me.  He stopped to taunt his buddy a bit, "Dude, my wife is right at your heels!" And then he ran with me the rest of the way to the finish.  At about the 600 yard mark, I started to pump my legs faster.  I was determined to beat J.  But of course just as I pumped it, he pumped it too. He was really moving fast and I was trying desperately to catch him.  S was coaching me, encouraging me to keep going strong.  In the end though, I did not.  I dialed it back for fear that I would puke my way across the finish line.  But what had been a good 1.5 mile/15 minute gap at the mid-way point, turned into a barely 30 second victory for J.  "Next time, I will catch you!" I shouted as I crossed the finish and saw him collapsed in exhaustion near the water table. 

My final time was 2:22:30.  It was my slowest half-marathon, but it was not as bad as I was expecting.  I was quite proud of it, actually.  The weather had a lot to do with my time, though, as it has been getting cooler here (finally) and a 6 o'clock start time meant that the sun was barely up nearly one hour into the race.  And I didn't finish last.  There were about 6 ladies running together who came in about 30 minutes behind me.  Oh, and S finished fourth.  Overall.  His time was 1:41 and some change. Damn over achiever. 

Now it is time to just focus on the joy of running without the training pressure.  Then, once we are back in the states, we may just sign up for a race in NYC while we're on home leave.  S and I used to run for New York Road Runners in Central Park, so we are itching to do another race while we're there.  We shall see!

ETA: Yes, I do realize camels really don't store water in their humps.  It's just an expression.

Half-Marathon Training

I have been slowly getting back into running after having D.  Although I love it, I can sometimes psyche myself out of running by coming up with excuses for why I shouldn't get my butt out there...it's too hot, the jogging stroller is getting too heavy to push...my IT band is flaring up again.  That is, unless I have a goal in mind.  

The goal this year: half-marathon.  

And S and I will be running together.  Well, not together  together since S is, like, ten times faster than I am. But we're running the same race. 

My last official long race was the Marine Corps Marathon in October 2011.  Yes, nearly three years ago.  And we all know how that turned out.  I pushed too far too fast and my body wasn't ready.  Since then, our life has been a bit chaotic (two big moves, nine months of pregnancy and a newborn will do that), and I realized I hadn't really set a goal for myself in a very long time.   So, the first thing I did after my OB gave me the post-baby all-clear, was look for a half-marathon to start training for.  I knew a full marathon in the fall or early spring (2015) was going to be out of the question this time because we will be packing out to move, taking home leave, then we go back to D.C for a little training, only to pack out again and head to our next post--all in a 5 month span.  The reality of actually being able to train in the midst of all that didn't look good, and besides, I wanted to take it slower this time around.  I learned my lesson after having E.  So, half-marathon it is.  

Even though I stayed pretty active during my pregnancy, my training started out slow.  I stopped running when I was about 5 months pregnant with D, but continued to walk at least 2 to 3 miles a day after that. Still, when I started training, I could barely run two miles before huffing and puffing back home.  And my pace time?  Ha.  Laughable.  But I kept telling myself I had just had a baby.  Chill out.  You'll get there.  And I am getting there.  My pace is getting better, albeit still nowhere near what it used to be, and I doubt it ever will. But I am okay with that.  I am improving my endurance, though, despite this blasted heat.  Seriously people, even when I try to get out there early, it's still 90+ degrees and with very little shade.  It's hot.  

So far I have pushed to 8 miles and I can regularly do 5-6, although not when I'm the one pushing the jogging stroller.  Then my max is only about 2.5 miles.  Do you guys know how hard it is to push 65 lbs of children (yes plural--we got a double jogger) and gear?  It's freaking hard.  S usually does the pushing when we do our weekend long runs because he's a machine.  It doesn't phase him one bit, apparently.  Meanwhile, I'm seriously pondering ways to make a voice-activated, remote control jogging stroller become a reality.  

So, in less than one month, S and I will both be running a half-marathon.  He will probably place in the top three of his age group, because he's just that awesome.  He ran this same race last year and came in fourth in his age group, only missing out on top three by a few seconds.  This year he vows redemption. And I will probably be bringing up the rear with the pace car hot on my heels, likely one of the last to finish. Sure, it will be embarrassing, but I'll get over it.  As long as I actually finish!

Needless to say, once S and I set one running goal, the next is not too far behind.  A plan to run a marathon in fall 2015 is already in the works, and it may or may not involve Disney World...stay tuned.

Athens Classic Marathon

It just dawned on me that with all the baby news and holiday cheer occupying our times these days, I never blogged about our trip to Athens for the Classic Marathon back in November.  

S chose to run this particular marathon because we hold fond memories of Greece, we have friends there that we were eager to visit, and because he has always wanted to run the original course from Marathon to Athens.  S, bless his heart, trained like a beast all summer in preparation for this marathon.  He set his alarm for 5 a.m. every weekday morning, save for his day off which was Friday, and woke up to run whatever mileage was on his schedule for that day.  Then he would put in a good 10 hour workday before coming home and somehow finding the energy to run around the apartment playing Monsters Attack or Rocketships and Dinosaurs with E.

His weekends were spent running loop after loop in the large park near our house, coming up the apartment only for water stops or bathroom breaks that lasted mere minutes before going back out there.  Once his training called for "long runs," he would be out there for hours.  In the dog days of summer. In the sun with absolutely NO shade. In the 100+ degree heat. In the 100% humidity.  It was insanity.  But he did it.  

On the trip over, S was over the moon to discover we were seated on the same row with an Ethiopian runner who happened to be on our flight out of Istanbul.  S wished him luck and told him that he would be right behind him, nipping at his heels at the end of the race. I think the joke went over the guy's head.  Of course, I love my husband, but professional Ethiopian running speed he does not have.  

The day before the race was rather low-key.  We tried not to do too much walking so as to let S get as much rest as possible, but we spent a good bit of time exploring the Runner's Expo where we went to pick up his race packet and number.  While there, S discovered his birthday had been entered as 1992, which had us howling in laughter, so he spent some time trying to get that fixed.  Then the evening was spent doing the usual carb-loading on pasta and bread and salads. No, I wasn't preparing for a race, but being pregnant gave me an excuse to carb load too.  I mean, it was for the baby, right?  I need the energy too!

Then, right before bed time, S walked into the edge of the platform bed at our hotel and promptly BROKE HIS TOE.   I mean, he screamed, and folded into a clump on the bed. Out of pain or fear of not being able to race, I still don't know, but he just lay there while I tried not to freak out.  Then he got up, turned off the light and we went to bed.  Not one glimpse at the toe, not one sentence uttered about it.   That was that.  I think he just wanted to forget that it had even happened.

The next morning I could hear S getting ready to walk to the free shuttle.  I quietly asked how his toe was feeling and as he fumbled around in the dark, I heard him mumble an unconvincing "fine."  I knew to not pester him, and off he went, ready to run. 

E and I spent the morning walking around souvenir shops, eating breakfast in an outdoor cafe, and sharing cups of hot chocolate together.  He was being so sweet and kept asking when we were going to go see Daddy "run that maratom."  

Hot chocolate face.

When the time came, we ventured over to the finish line when I estimated that S would be nearing his finish and found a prime spot 250 meters from the end.  We stood and waited.  And waited.  I tried to hold our 30 pound toddler on my shoulders so he could see, while he begged to be put back in his stroller so he could nap.  I tried very hard to keep him awake to see his Daddy, but nearly 30 minutes had passed since I expected S to finish, and I just didn't have the energy to hold him any longer.  So off to nap he went while I stood there trying not to worry.  "Is he okay?"  "Why hasn't he run by yet?" "Wait, did he run by and I just missed him?" "No, that's not possible, we got here right one time." 

Then the bigger fears started to creep in as our waiting ticked to near an hour.  "What if he collapsed?" "What if he really hurt his toe so bad that he can't walk?" "What if he's in the hospital and I don't have a phone that works and I have no way to contact him?!?"

And then, his red shirt flashed in the distance and I could see him running toward me, determination and exhaustion etched into his face.  I shouted his name, he ran over to give me a kiss, cast a disappointing look downward at E sleeping in the stroller as I apologized for not being able to keep him awake, him saying it was okay, pecking me once more on the cheek and taking off for the finish line.  He was okay.  Exhausted, but okay. 

S--he's the one in the red shirt behind the other guy in the red shirt :)

The finish line.

Proud of his medal

After the race S told me how impossible this marathon was.  For him, it was the worst one he has ever done. He just couldn't believe how hard it was. It was straight uphill for nearly 75% of the race, only dipping downhill a couple times, before entering another climb.  He said his legs seized up on more than one occasion, and the pain that he had in his toe was all but forgotten when his legs started to give out and his muscles started to spasm.  He said he never understood why people "walked during a marathon" when they should just push through it and keep running (umm, what?!?) but that now he understands. I had to laugh at that sentiment.  But despite being 50 minutes over his personal best time, he was still proud that he finished.  And so was I.  He was not prepared for hills.  He didn't train on hills.  And he realized that was his biggest mistake.  He was just so excited to run this particular race that he never bothered to check the elevation charts and reviews from other runners, and he was under prepared for the intensity of the course.  But he still finished.  Now he is looking for his next marathon.  I saw him Google "flat course marathons Europe" the other day and had to stifle a giggle. 

As for the toe.  It was indeed broken.  And BLACK from bruising when he took off his sock after the race. I will spare you the photo that he took, just know that it was nasty and now almost completely healed.

All in all, it was a fun time for the family to be together.  And S now likes to rub it in that we are tied at 4 marathons each.  I used to have bragging rights for having run more than him, because after all, it was me who introduced him to the sport, but not anymore.  However, you better believe that once this baby pops out, I will be training for my next marathon.  Then I will be back on top with FIVE.  Mwuahahaha!  But he will always be faster than me, so there's that.  

A Typical Day

Pardon the radio silence, dear readers.  This household was recently derailed by the evilness of a nasty, ruthless bacterial infection that had me, in particular, knocked on my @ss for the past week.  But all is good now, thanks to the wonders of antibiotics. Score.  

Now where were we?

Recently an old friend reached out to me on Facebook to ask, "So, what are your days like there?  Like, tell me about a typical day."   To which I responded, "Well, it's pretty much how it was back in the States." 

And this is true, to an extent.  But then I realized I should elaborate a bit more, and what better forum than this here blog.

Humans, by nature, are creatures of habit, and we are no exception.  We have our routines, and just like we did in New York and D.C., we follow them.  It may sound boring, but when your husband is working 5 days a week, you, for the most part are working during the week, and your kid is in preschool 5 days a week, you tend to fall into a routine and pretty much stick with it.  A typical day for us is pretty simple--wake up, work/school, run errands, walk the dog, family dinner, maybe a tantrum here or there, go to bed. Rinse and repeat.

See, it's a pretty typical routine.  Just like in the States.  Except, we're not in the states.  Because there are always the little obstacles that stop and make you realize you're living in a different country.  Besides the language barrier, there is  for example, the journey to E's school where I have to walk in the middle of the street because the sidewalks here are used for parking cars.  I just listen for the roar of an engine behind me and jump out of the way before a car, or bus comes barreling by.  Or there's my afternoon walk with M-dog, where for example I use the Call to Prayer from the local mosque as my queue that it's time to take her.  Or that picking up food for dinner involved me standing in the aisle at the store for 10 minutes trying to remember the Turkish word for "chicken" while attempting to locate chicken broth. It's all those little things that add a little spice to the routine and make it unique.  And I like it.  I think we all need our routines, and we tend to create them wherever we are.  They're important to function, especially when you have children.  But you also have to adapt to your surroundings, which is what we have done.

Now weekends, on the other hand, are a different story.  Sure we stick to a running routine, but for the most part, we are always off on some adventure or another.  The beach, hiking, visiting archaeological sites, castles, you name it, we do it.  The weekend is our time to explore this amazing country that we get the privilege of calling home for 2 years.  

But then again, deciding we will explore every weekend is another routine we've perhaps fallen into?  If so, we enjoy it and wouldn't have it any other way.

Boston

I am a runner.  S is a runner.  Between the two of us, we have completed 7 marathons and 18 half-marathons.  I say this because all totaled, there are at least 25 instances where S and I have stood at a finish line, sometimes with E, waiting for each other to complete a race.  Where we worried about things like, will her leg cramp up or will he run a new PR?  Will he want water when he crosses the finish, or would he prefer Gatorade?  Or beer?  Will she be sore?

Where we stood waving homemade signs of encouragement and support not only for each other, but for all the runners who were racing to the finish.  Where we shouted and clapped and cheered for everyone who had just completed what felt like a super-human feat of running 26.2 miles.

 

Where not once did we think we were risking our lives in fear of a bomb. 

 

For anyone who has ever run a marathon or even stood on the sideline in support, you know what it feels like.  The adrenaline is palpable and the energy electric.  The volume of support during a marathon is unrivaled.  In fact,  Katherine Switzer, the first woman to ever run the Boston marathon in 1967 once said, "if you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon."  Truer words were never spoken. Because it is at a marathon where the best of humanity comes out.  Where people stand for hours cheering, handing out water or candy or orange slices in an effort to not only boost a runner's energy, but their self-esteem.  To give them the mental and emotional lift needed to get over the wall and finish the race. 

 

I have never run Boston.  I am not that fast and would never qualify.  But S and I have both run the NYC marathon and just like Boston, I'm sure, the crowds who gather in support of the runners are amazing.  Whenever anyone asks me what it's like to run a marathon, I always say it's great because of the spectators.  You would be hard pressed to find a runner anywhere who doesn't smile at poster board signs that read, "You made it to the start, you WILL make it to the finish," or "Run like you stole something."  The old woman banging a cooking pot in her bathrobe and yelling, "y'all better run!" had me giggling for the last three miles out of Brooklyn.  And in fact, I am 100% certain that the gentleman handing out tootsie rolls on Fifth Avenue at mile 24 was the reason I finished in my personal best time.  I timidly took one, but  he  pushed the whole bowl at me saying, "take more.  Take as many as you need.  You can do this."  And that's all it took.  I shoved five more tootsie rolls into my mouth, and the candy's sugar combined with that stranger's words of support propelled me through Central Park and past the finish line.

 

What happened yesterday in Boston broke my heart.  To know that mothers, fathers, husbands and wives, and 8-year old boys were out there on a beautiful spring day supporting their loved ones, only to lose their lives or be severely injured because of it, just makes my stomach turn.  And to think that some of the injured were runners who had already completed the race, who had doubled back so they could watch their friends finish as they had probably done many times before, is truly gut-wrenching.  Limbs were lost in the explosions.  Those people may never run again. 

 

The finish line at a marathon is supposed to be one of celebration and joy.  It is a time to be proud.  But yesterday, that was stripped from innocent men, women and children, and the running community as a whole.  My heart goes out to those runners and their families. I hope the injured can heal and the running community can recover from such a tragic event. And I hope we can all work hard to erase the fear  by returning the finish line to a place of excitement and good cheer once again. 

 

My next run is for Boston.

On Running After Having a Baby

I ran a 10K yesterday.  The PR Run for the Parks started just north of the tidal basin and curved its way down along the Potomac River, and then back up so the race started and finished in the same spot.  I love running along the river, and I think the view would have been spectacular had the weather not been so drizzly, cold and gray. 

Weather aside, it still wasn’t a great race for me.  In fact, it was the slowest 10K I have ever run.  No I’m not that fast to begin with, but still, it was pretty slow.  Couple that with my dreadful showing at the Marine Corps Marathon last October, and I’ve finally reached a conclusion about my body when it comes to running:   it takes a LONG time for the female body to recover after having a baby.  Or at least, it takes MY body a long time to recover, and I’m not sure it ever will.  But I am okay with that.

First, let me back up to that marathon I just mentioned. 

When I signed up to run that race in 2010, I was excited because it was to be my 4^th marathon on my admittedly obnoxious quest to run one marathon in every state.  But shortly after registering, I discovered I was pregnant with E and that I would be roughly 4 ½ months along come race day.  Not wanting to risk anything, I deferred until the following year.  Jump forward to race day in October 2011, roughly 6 months after I gave birth to E, and I was having my doubts.  Could I really finish this marathon?  Am I crazy to run 26.2 miles 6 months after having a baby?  The answers to these questions were yes and yes.  

The marathon started as uneventful as any...a steady pace, ear buds in and music blaring.  I was feeling great up until the 12 mile mark when I was suddenly crippled by lower back pain and spasms.  I stopped to stretch, hoping that would do some good, but it didn’t.  I had suffered tremendous lower back pain while pregnant with E, and the spasms I felt during the race were reminiscent of those pains.  So I slowly jogged another mile before whipping out my phone to call S.  That’s when I proceeded to break down into sobs of frustration and explained that I didn’t think I could finish.  My back was killing me, my IT band was tightening up and I was in a lot of pain.  I hadn’t even reached the halfway mark, and I was falling apart.  I was cursing my body for doing this to me, for not “bouncing back” like I expected it to.

S calmly told me that he was at the 16 mile marker (with E in the stroller) and that if I could just make it there, we would go home.  He said there was no shame in quitting if I was hurt.  He said I didn’t have anything to prove to anyone.  So, I pulled it together and walk/ran toward mile 16 with thoughts of a cup of coffee, a heating pad and a hot shower on my mind.

At mile 15 I saw a medic tent and limped in begging for some pain medicine.  I knew I needed something to get me through the next mile.  They were only allowed to give Tylenol, so they gave me the max dose, wrote it down on my bib number (so if something happened to me, the EMTs would know what I had taken) and I continued on.   The Tylenol kicked in rather quickly and between that medic stop and mile 16, I realized something.  I realized that, while S was right, I did not have anything to prove to anyone else, I did have to prove to myself that I could finish this marathon.  And that’s what I was going to do, injured, post-baby body be damned.

By the time I spotted S and E bundled together at mile 16, I took one look at E’s sweet little baby face and thought, I can do this.  I told S I was going to finish and he just smiled and said, “I knew you would change your mind.”

So, 26.2 miles and a total of 5 hours 15 minutes later, I crossed the finish line.   The Tylenol had worn off at that point, but I was so happy to have finished despite the fact that it was my worst marathon ever.  I had proven to myself that I could foolishly run a marathon 6 months after having a baby.  Not only that, I had proven to myself that I wasn’t a quitter and I didn’t let my crazy body get the best of me. And boy did I have a lot of pain in my crazy body.  Clearly, I had a long way to go to full recovery.

It was after that race that I started to wonder, “Would my body ever recover from having a baby?”

So far, 18 months after bringing E into this world, the answer is still no. 

Sure I can proudly say that I got back to my pre-baby weight rather quickly—I met that goal even before I ran the marathon.  And yes, my body looks (sorta) the same as it did before having E, but something has changed.  It can’t do what it used to do.  When it comes to running, I can’t do what I used to do. 

Am I blaming my child for this?  Absolutely not.  Am I blaming anyone for this?  No.  I am not placing blame anywhere at all.  I am simply coming to terms with the fact that the human body is a bizarre and wonderful thing, but that everyone’s body is different and everyone’s ability to do certain things is different as well. 

Some people bounce back and go on to win the New York City Marathon less than 10 months after giving birth.  Just ask one of my favorite runners, Paula Radcliffe.  Simply amazing.

But most people aren’t built that way.  I’m obviously not.  And most people don’t have the time to effectively train either.  I obviously don’t.  Besides, if I prefer to skip a 3-mile run to play with E after work, then so be it.

It may take years for my body to recover and feel “normal” during a run.  And it will probably take years to get my pre-baby running pace back too.

But even if I don’t, I am okay with that.  At this point in my life, I am just running for the fun of it, and with the goal of a finish in mind.  I don’t care about time.  I don’t care about pace.  I just want to know that I can still finish and I can still show my kid(s) that exercise is important and that no matter what, you should never give up. 

Which brings me back to yesterday’s 10K…those 6.2 miles finally opened my eyes to all of this.  I was frustrated and annoyed for the first half because I couldn’t pick up my pace without getting out of breath and feeling pain.  But once I decided that I didn’t care; that pace wasn’t everything; that having fun and just finishing was more important, I relaxed and came to terms with it.  And now I’m in a much better place.

Because all of it: running, life, family--it should always make you happy.  When it stops making you happy, that’s when you’re doing something wrong.  Now, I look forward to my future races, pace and finish time be damned.

Mt. Vernon Trail

Our UAB (unaccompanied air baggage) arrived on Saturday, and with it came our jogging stroller.  S and I couldn't WAIT to get out on the road and run together, so first thing Sunday morning we were lacing up our sneakers and hitting the pavement. 

I'll be honest.  We hadn't quite done what we said we were going to do--that is, each set off on our own to discover our individual running routes--but that was simply because it was so dang hot last week (seriously, I think it hit 100+ three days in a row) and we were exhausted when we got home each evening, that we just didn't have the energy.  But we're back in the groove now.  And we have discovered what I think will become our regular route, the Mt. Vernon Trail.

The Mt. Vernon Trail is roughly 18 miles long and starts in Rosslyn, Virginia and extends down along the Potomac (on the Virginia side) to George Washington's home, Mount Vernon.  Hence the name.  S and I had no idea such a lovely trail was right outside our doorstep until we stumbled upon it the other day while walking our dog.  

Sunday morning was a bit overcast with a threat of rain, and very high humidity, but the trail did not disappoint.  We entered the trail near our apartment in Crystal City and when we hit the fork in the road, headed toward Washington, D.C. rather than Alexandria.  The trail took us past Reagan airport, where E had a wonderful time pointing out all the airplanes during take-off and landing,  and up toward our turn around point at the 14th Street Bridge.  In the distance we caught glimpses of the Capitol building and the Washington Monument, which as a history nerd I thought was pretty freaking amazing.  S got a little annoyed that I whipped out my iPhone to take a picture, but he'll thank me when he has all these amazing photos to look at in the nursing home one day. 

All in all it was a great run.  While we definitely saw that the trail is rather popular with cyclists, we still had good running company. And we only did four miles, but we plan to run farther next time.  My only complaint was the lack of water along the route.  If anyone familiar with this run knows where the water fountains are located, please let me know.  We're glad we took a water bottle with us, and even happier we packed our fuel belts in UAB.  I'm not gonna lie.  The idea of doing the full 18 miles for my next long marathon training run really excites me.  Or heck, maybe one day I'll get super ambitious and attempt the full 36-miles round trip!



Dreary day.  Beautiful view.



We Have Arrived!

We arrived in Crystal City Saturday afternoon, much to the delight of all involved.  Minus a few stop-and-go traffic moments, the drive wasn't so bad.  We managed to get the pets down in one piece, and thanks to the wonders of modern technology, E was treated to a few episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba on the iPad, so his protests at being confined to the car seat were kept to a minimum. 

So far life here in Arlington is great.  I still can't get over the space (there are SEVEN! closets here, including a walk-in in the master bedroom that S so graciously gave to me), plus the living/dining area has plenty of room for E to run around. And there's carpet.  I'm normally not a fan of carpet, especially when there are fur babies involved, but to see E fall repeatedly (the boy is clumsy, what can I say?) and not whine or cry because there was a nice cushy carpet to break his fall instead of a cold, hard wood or tile floor, made my little mommy heart smile.  And because our son also likes to mimic the dog from time to time, they have both taken to rolling around on their backs while laughing/barking with glee.  I have such pride in those two. 

We scoped out the neighborhood today and located a grocery store, the obligatory Target, a pet store, Barnes & Noble and movie theater.  Those are the must-haves in our book, so we're all set.  Next on the agenda, map out a running route.  S and I have to wait for the jogging stroller to arrive in our UAB before we can go on runs together, but we will probably venture out on our own to see who can find the best trail first.  Or to see who gets lost and who doesn't.  Ah, the fun games we play!

*Anyway, since I know some of you are dying to know what our new home looks like, here are some pics.  Enjoy!

Dining room

Very dated, but very spacious kitchen

The other side.  Note the dishwasher!!

Massive living room

Master Bedroom.  Yes, our cat is spoiled.

And just for fun, a pic of E walking in his Daddy's shoes.



*We have a two-bedroom apartment, but since these photos were taken at night, a certain someone's room was not captured for fear of waking him.  But his room is very nicely set up with a twin bed, and a crib tucked against the wall.  And his very own closet.  As my friend Jill said earlier today, "now E can upgrade from the plastic container under his crib."  Thanks Jill :-p

The Last Hoorah

Last weekend, S and I took a time out from packout planning and everything Foreign Service related so that we could enjoy what we considered our "last hoorah" in New York City.  Okay, not really.  Because of our child-like excitement, all our conversations still revolved around Foreign Service-y stuff, but we did get to enjoy a weekend of gluttony, and one solitary evening sans toddler.  

S and I have tried very hard to have a "once-a-month" date night since E entered the world, but a little thing called life often intervenes and disrupts our adult time.  But since we're leaving in a few short weeks, I insisted that we have one last adult evening in New York.  S agreed, so we called in the sitter.  

We had dinner at a local Italian restaurant in Clinton Hill called Locanda Vini e Olii.  This restaurant has been along our running route for the past 3 years, but we never really gave it much thought mostly because of the sign out front.  It still reads Lewis's Drug Store, a hold over from the days when the building used to be a pharmacy.  Needless to say, we had no clue there was a fine dining experience awaiting us within. I'm glad we figured it out though, because the food was delicious. A perfect spot for our last great meal in Brooklyn. 

We ordered the chicken liver with risotto appetizer, then we each had a "primi" pasta dish.  For the main course, S had the seafood stew and I had the grilled duck with chick peas and fig preserve.  Amazingness. 

S's Seafood stew





Grilled duck with a glass of wine

After dinner, S and I took a stroll down to the Promenade and grubbed a chocolate, sea salt and caramel cupcake from Crumbs while looking out at the skyline.  We took a few trips down memory lane, both of us admitting that we never in a million years would have imagined getting to such an exciting and awesome point in our lives.  It eventually got too chilly on the water and I was wearing a sleeveless dress, so we called off the remaining romantic gestures, opted for the warmer confines of our car and headed home.

Since Sunday was Father's Day, S (and by proxy, I) got a two-for-one on the food-o-meter.  It was the third Sunday of the month, after all, which meant--Food Truck Rally!  We tucked E into the Bob stroller, quickly logged our 5-miles to burn off the previous night's meal, and then high tailed it back to Grand Army Plaza for some more grub. 

S and I both had some empanadas followed by a few dumplings and one giant buffalo chicken/mozzarella grilled cheese sandwich from one of the most (if not THE most) famous grilled cheese truck in the city, Gorilla Cheese. 

Jambalaya Empanada

 

Spicy Chicken Empanada





See what I mean?  Totally gluttonous weekend.  But in the end, S and I had an amazing "last hoorah" in the city and S had a memorable, food truck inspired Father's Day feast. 

Now we can go back to our regularly scheduled programming of packout lists, tenant/landlord preparations, pet care logistics etc.  Because one burning question remains unanswered: Just how DO you get one future diplomat, one stressed-out spouse, a rambunctious toddler, a hyper dog and an angsty cat down to D.C. in one piece?  Well, I'll let you know when we find out.   

7 Things I WILL Miss...

A short while back I discussed the things I will not miss about New York when we move.  Of course, with that list comes the alternate list of things I absolutely will miss when we're gone, because lets be honest, New York is a kick ass city.   It is smelly sometimes, yes.  It is expensive as hell and drains your bank account faster than you can blink, yes.  And it can drive a person to want to grab a tourist by the shoulder and shake them while screaming, "Please do NOT stop in the MIDDLE of the sidewalk to take your pictures!  People are walking here!" But I love this city to the core and despite it's shortcomings, I will miss it terribly.  The list is long. I could type all night about the conveniences of New York, or the charm, or the hustle and bustle that both excites and amazes me, but I will not make you sit through my long, never-ending list.  So, consider this the abridged version. 

• Food/Restaurants - S and I love to eat.  We like to maintain a healthy lifestyle and consider ourselves well-balanced eaters, but we don't hold back when we see something we just absolutely have to try.  Like, for example, when we went for a run in Prospect Park last summer and discovered the Food Truck Rally that had set up shop in Grand Army Plaza.  We quickly did our routine loop all the while thinking of those trucks.  Mmmmm...Kimchi Tacos, Falafels, homemade ice cream sandwiches.  Did we run enough miles to justify such a feast?  No.  But who cares? Will all these food trucks ever be in one place at one time, ever again, like it is today?  Maybe not. So we ate.  And we loved every minute of it.  We later found out those Food Trucks would become an "every-third-Sunday-of-the-month" set up until late October, so yeah, we kind of chilled out on the face-stuffing after that.  But I guess what I'm trying to say is that the food here is amazing.  All the restaurants, the cafes the food booths at flea markets around the city, it's all amazing.  People aren't afraid to experiment with new and delicious combinations, and S and I love to try them.  We will miss just popping into our favorite places for a quick bite or standing in line at the Brooklyn Flea for a People's Pop on a hot sunny day.  We will miss sidling up to the food truck on the corner just because it's new and looks interesting.  Bottom line: we will miss eating in New York.
• Prospect Park - I mentioned this park earlier, so now would probably be a good time to tell you that it is my all-time, hands-down, most favorite piece of greenery in this city has to offer.  When I first moved here, I was a Central Park girl.  I ran there, I sunbathed there, I met my friends for picnics there.  I loved that park.  But then I moved to Brooklyn, and my eyes were opened (by S, of course, since he is the one who introduced me) to a whole new type of outdoor space.  You see, Central Park, dare I say, is for tourists.  It's beautiful, it's breathtaking and it inspires some of the most amazing photographs and paintings in the world, but it is there, in my opinion, for others to look at.  It's not for you to live in, relax in, just...be in.  That's what Prospect Park offers and more.  From the second you enter, you sense this familial vibe...children riding scooters, teenagers playing frisbee, mothers and fathers pushing their babies in strollers, family reunions being held on the lawn while old men stand around laughing and grilling hamburgers...  This is everyone's backyard, and you see that all around you.  And I'm not the only one who feels that way.  Ask any Brooklyn resident to name their favorite park and most will tell you Prospect Park.  And we're not alone.  Frederick Law Olmsted one of the designers of both Central Park and Prospect Park, once stated that he viewed Prospect Park as his greater achievement.  And I think he was right. 
• Bodegas - One of the conveniences of living here is that you can get just about anything you need at your local corner store, or bodegas as we call them.  Ran out of toilet paper?  Quick, run to the bodega.  Need milk for the baby's nightly bottle and the grocery store is already closed?  Throw on your flip-flops and pop across the street to the bodega.  Sure, other places in the country have their Circle K's or Quick-Marts, but you have to actually drive there 99% of the time and a quick trip can turn into a long one pretty fast.  Bodegas on the other hand are on every block.  A trip can take less than 5 minutes door to door, and I have never, not one time, gone to a bodega and not found what I was looking for.  Sure, you might have to use the generic butter instead of the organic, gluten-free, or whatever, but you will find butter.  You will find just about anything.  I once had my sister visiting from out of town and she decided she wanted to bake something.  We'd gone to the store to purchase all the necessary baking ingredients, only to get home and realize, "damn, I don't own a baking pan."  But! I could just whip across the street and get one! My sister insisted I not do that and tried to convince me she really didn't need to bake (all the while making fun of me for not actually owning a baking pan) but I insisted that she did, and that it would be no problem for me to run over to the bodega.  90 quick seconds later I was back and proudly holding up one of those tin-foil baking pans that you throw out when your done with it.  She looked at me and asked where I got it.  When I told her, she was shocked.  "Wow, that was fast.  They sell those there?"  See?  Total convenience.  I will miss the heck out of that convenience too.  And yes, my sister baked up something delicious that night and we enjoyed every morsel of it.
• E's daycare - When S and I first found out we were expecting a baby, I insisted we hire a nanny.  I knew they could be expensive so I started doing my research.  I was convinced we could pay for a more affordable nanny (affordable being $600 a week, yeah right!) and quickly learned that, yeah...we're not the Rockefeller's.  So we 86'd that idea rather quickly and started researching daycares instead.  One option was right down the street from our apartment and our neighbor's daughter, who was one-year old at the time, had been attending since she was 4-months old.  So we talked to her mom, toured the daycare, talked with the staff and asked a million and one questions.  We were hesitant, not because we saw or heard something that made us question the daycare's abilities, but because E was our baby and we were about to make a decision to leave him with perfect strangers at such a young age (he started daycare at 3 months).  Those first few weeks were not fun.  I resisted the urge to call and check on him every hour and tried to tell myself he was okay.  And he was.  And over the last 10 months we have watched our tiny helpless baby grow into a happy, smart, energetic toddler who absolutely LOVES his daycare.  He has friends and his favorite teacher is Miss Gloria, who he calls Nana.  (Shhhh, don't tell his real Nana, my mom ;))  He has a smile on his face when I drop him off and a smile on his face when S picks him up.  He loves it there and we love it for him.  We will be sad when we have to say goodbye, but we will always hold Sunshine Daycare in our hearts.
• Reading on the subway - What?  Reading on the subway?  Yes, reading on the subway.  One of the simple pleasures in life is curling up with a good book and immersing yourself in the world of child wizards or romantic dramas involving characters like Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy.  And for me, that place is the train.  My daily commute to work is 45 minutes each way, and I spend every second of it with my nose in my book, ignoring the pushing and shoving or talking that goes on around me, and placing myself squarely in the world of imagination.  Before I know it I am at my stop and my commute is over.  Time flies so quickly and I love it.  However, sometimes I want to keep riding the train  just so I can continue to read because I am always dying to know what happens next.  But yeah, you have to go to work, right?  Anyway, this has been my routine for the past 10 years.  Reading on the train has always brought me joy, and I will truly miss it when we are gone.  I will have to find a new place to curl up besides a hard, cold plastic bench, I guess ;-).
• The Arts - This is a no-brainer, but duh, this city is packed full of fun, artsy things to do.  A couple of our favorites are First Saturday at the Brooklyn Museum, where the museum is open late the first Saturday of every month and opens its doors to the public for a free tour of the museum, and Celebrate Brooklyn concerts outdoors in Prospect Park.  But of course I can't forget the old stand-bys like The Met, The Guggenheim, MOMA and more.  Culture and art is around every corner and it gives this city so much life.  I know we are setting off on an adventure where living all over the world will bring its own set of cultural rewards, but we will always be nostalgic about the culture we found here.  It's like your first love - you never forget it.
• And finally, I will bring this list to a close by saying that above all else, we will miss our friends.  We will miss the impromptu brunches on a Saturday morning, and the roof parties, and the kiddie play dates at the playground.  We will miss the conversations over glasses of wine and we will miss the community we have become a part of over the past decade.  We have made some truly wonderful friends here and we will forever miss them with all our hearts.