Bitte bleib

Geh nicht. Bleib hier, ganz nah bei mir, und hör nicht auf, mir von Dir zu erzählen. Ich will, muss alles wissen. Ich habe Angst, dass wir nicht mehr genug Zeit haben, damit Du mir alles das sagen kannst, was ich noch wissen muss. Mir einen lückenlosen Bericht deines Lebens geben kannst. Alles was, Du getan hast, was Dir angetan wurde, was Du erlebt hast und was Du lieber vergessen würdest. Alles, was Du liebst in dieser Welt und alles, was Du verachtest. Bleib bei mir und hör nicht auf zu sprechen.

Ich halte einfach weiter Deine Hand und spreche mit Dir. Solange wir reden, bleibst Du hier. Kannst Du nicht gehen. Unmöglich. Ich kann und will mir nicht vorstellen müssen, wie es ohne Dich sein würde. Es kann nicht einfach so weitergehen wie vorher. Die Welt kann sich nicht einfach weiterdrehen, als ob nichts geschehen sei. Unmöglich. Sie muss doch registrieren, dass sich etwas verändert hat. Das jemand so schön, so einzigartig, so wichtig für so viele, so talentiert und wunderbar, nicht mehr da ist. Diese Lücke, diese Kerbe, diese große, offene, stark blutende Wunde muss doch irgendeine Reaktion vorrufen. Unmöglich, es nicht zu registrieren. Unfassbar.

Ich bleibe einfach hier, rede weiter, wenn Dir die Worte ausgehen. Gebe Dir all meine Worte, damit Du noch länger hier bleiben kannst. Solange wir noch Geschichten zu erzählen, Worte zu wechseln, Erinnerungen auszutauschen haben. Solange uns immer noch etwas einfällt, was der andere noch nicht weiß oder wieder vergessen hat. Solange da immer noch etwas ungesagt ist, bis zum letzten Buchstaben, der sich noch irgendwo versteckt, solange musst Du bei mir bleiben. Du kannst nicht eher gehen. Nicht einfach mitten in der Geschichte, mitten im Satz verschwinden. Unmöglich. Bleib bis zum letzten Wort, hör mich aus. Versprich es. Du musst es mir versprechen!

Don't go

I want to spend every day for as long as I can lying next to you in your bed. Listening to you. Telling you things. I feel that there's just not enough time left for you to tell me everything that I still need to know. I want a complete, seamless, truthful account of your life. Everything you did, everything you went through, everything that happened to you, how it made you feel. All of your dreams, your secrets, everything you love, and everything you despise in this world.

I want to keep listening, want to hold on and pretend, that by not stopping to listen I can keep you from leaving. Keep you here forever. Not ever have to be without you. Because, I can't imagine how that would be like. I want to not to have to imagine, let alone experience how the world would be like without you. It can't just continue to be the same, can it? It will have to acknowledge that you're missing? How could it not? How could it not recognize that someone so important, so dear to so many, so beautiful and unbelievably strong, is about to leave its surface? How could it not feel that? How could it just keep going on as if everything was alright and nothing happened? It could not, could it?

Let me just stay here and hold your hand. Keep listening and hoping, you won't run out of words. And if you do, I will keep talking. Spend my words so that you won't have to leave. As long as there are still stories to tell, unsaid thoughts to say out loud, words and sentences to listen to, you can't go. Impossible. You have to hear them to the end. You can't just leave somewhere in the middle of the story. You have to stay until there's is nothing else to say. Until the last word has been spoken, until we run out of tales. Until there are no more anecdotes to tell, jokes to laugh about, fond memories to share, no more words. You cannot leave earlier than that. You'll have to promise! Promise me that.

Ragnar

I really need to stop signing up for running events right after I finish one. Last year, after my half marathon, I immediately signed up for the San Francisco Marathon. I had to cancel that one but changed my registration to the marathon in San Luis Obispo this year. And right after that I signed up for the same marathon next year, a half marathon in October, and a relay race from San Francisco to Napa. Not the straight route, 205 miles, 12 runners, each runner running three times. What was I thinking?!

So, a few weeks before the race date, I thought about canceling but then I saw that a few people had already bailed and we were at least one runner short. So I didn't. The week before I thought I would get sick. I felt tired and had a sore throat. But at that time we still hadn't found a runner to replace the missing one and so I really thought I shouldn't bail. And I didn't.

Friday morning, 7am, I showed up at the Caltrain Station in San Francisco, looking for people who looked crazy enough to participate in such an event. Easy to spot at that time and place. Two girls in running gear with backpacks and sleeping bags. No one really knew each other in our van, which turned out to be a 7 seater instead of the promised 12 seater. Which made the whole experience even cosier and turned out to be very convenient especially when it came to finding a parking spot between hundreds of 12 seater vans. And so we went. I called shotgun as I was the first one to run and also the one with the longest legs (physically), next to the driver. So I put on my equipment, drank some more water and prepared myself for the first 2.7 miles. Easy.

Naturally, we found a small parking spot, close to the starting area in Golden Gate Park. Sadly, it was overcast and a little muggy. But that didn't affect our mood at all. We were already half way to the starting area when we realized that we didn't bring the safety equipment we were supposed to present in order to get our race packages. Reflective vests (only useful if they're worn the right way around), butt lights, and headlamps. This was the first clue that our team was a little less organized than we should have been... Later that night we did realize why this equipment was pretty important, still, most of the time we forgot to wear those vests and bring the orange flag needed for crossing streets in the darker hours. We signed in, got a safety and race rules overview and our packages and I was ready to go. That overview, though, missed a number of important items. Such as: Don't let your car's engine run for hours while waiting for your fellow van to arrive at the, granted, pretty hot exchange area. California is a f***ing desert. Deserts are hot! Deal with it or move to Alaska! Anyway, the other useful tips would have been: Check that your at the right exchange and Do Not blind fellow runners with your headlamps or headlights at the sleeping areas. Or generally.

And then it was 8.30am, and I was on my way. Downhill to Ocean Beach, uphill along Cliff House. A short run and I was way faster than my estimated 10.25 minutes/mile. So, when I arrived at the finish line, I couldn't find the next runner. At least, I had the phone number of the driver but when I dialed in, I got one of the most frequent messages from t-mobile: NO SERVICE. Duuuuuh. Turned our, my team was already there, just not quite ready. 5 minutes later, the next runner was on his way and we were learned our first lessons: Get to the next exchange as quickly as possible and ignore the sandbagging of the runners (10.25 minutes/mile on 2.7 miles, seriously?). And that we did.

And there we waited a few minutes. The second leg was a little longer and included the nasty hill from Presidio all the way up to the Golden Gate Bridge. And once you get on the bridge, there's still 1.5 miles slightly uphill. This time the exchange worked better. I was ready to go on my next short leg. All the way, downhill, to Sausalito. After that, I had the day off until evening.

So we ran until we ran out of runners and met the other van at the exchange. Then we got lunch and talked to each other a little bit more. There was a physical therapist who refused to give us massages because, she was "not at work". Makes sense. An FBI agent that made us feel save and very confident in case we should run over a red light, rushing to meet our runner at the next exchange. The driver had originally agreed to do the driving because a bunch of his friends wanted to participate. But they all bailed so he only knew one person on the bus. Well, now he knew all of them.

The afternoon we spent in a large parking lot at the next van exchange. Surrounded by hundreds of other vans, most of them had their engine running so they could sit in their air conditioned cars. Which didn't help reducing the heat and gave half of us carbon monoxide poisoning. If you can't stand the heat, don't live in the desert!

At this point, I really want to call out the porta potties along the course. No one likes porta potties. Especially when they're almost full and the previous visitor let the lid open for you to admire the huge "chocolate cake" when you open the door. But the Honey Pots, despite their sticky name, were perfectly clean with a slight whiff of disinfectant greeting you when entering the immaculate facility. Many times you even got to break into a brand new roll of toilet paper. After the third run, all sweaty and stinky, I swear I could see the porta potty crinkle its nose when I opened the door to come inside.

Anyway, on to the next 6 legs we went. We had already realized that the other van had gotten the shitty end of the stick. They had to run all through the night and the heat of the day. While we got mornings and evenings. And then I was back on. My longest leg, 6.7 miles through the dusk and partly the dark in the early evening. I did have a look at the course map before and thought it was a relatively easy piece. Hardly any elevation climb. Just a run along the highway. But then the hill started and wouldn't end. Not a steep incline but steady and never ending, it seemed. Turned out, I had looked at the wrong leg map. Not the last time that should happen... Running along the highway in the darkness, some runners in front, some behind me was kind of a surreal experience. It reminded me of the Burning Man exodus. Tiny moving red lights ahead, all those butt lights swinging back and forth, moving white lights from the headlamps behind me.

Again, the fact that my team was waiting for me at the finish line made me run a lot faster than I had in a while. And I was done for the day until early in the morning. I changed into dry clothes, got my sleeping bag and curled up on the back seat of the car. But only for a few moments until we got to In N Out Burger for dinner.

From there to the next meeting point with the other van. And again we were the only ones outside in the dark, not wearing our vests and bringing our reflective flag. So unorganized and rebellious we were :-).

And finally, we reached our sleeping area. It's been a while, since I had slept on the bare ground without an air mattress or mat. Outside of a campground. I had picked a spot right next to our van, literally 3 meters away. Assuming, that my van mates would have no problem spotting me, I didn't bother to set my alarm clock and I even switched my phone on airplane mode. A quarter to 5am I notice some commotion at the van and eventually, I got up and walked over. As it turned out, our next runner was already on her way and we'd almost slept through the arrival of the other van. And no one knew where I was... Luckily, our runner made it to the exchange, a second before the other runner got there. Of course she was still sleepy. As was runner #2, who was on just shortly after her. Given that her leg was just three miles long and she was fast, we ran around the vans like headless chicken, trying to gather all of the next runner's equipment and make sure we get to the exchange in time. The last item that was missing was his breakfast, a granola bar. He wasn't able to find it. As I was next after him, I had just unpacked my last peanut butter jelly sandwich and was about to eat it. Given he had the longer leg to run, I took a long hard look at the sandwich in my hand, said goodbye and handed it over to him.

Now that we had a little more time until the next exchange, we stopped to get a coffee and then drove to the next stop to make sure we'd have enough time to prepare for the handover of the baton. And in fact, we reached the exchange about twenty minutes before we expected our runner to show up. And waited. And waited. After an hour of waiting our driver decided to drive back and search for our runner. And came back a few minutes later to tell us that we had been waiting at the wrong exchange. Our runner had finished his run 45 minutes before and as he didn't bring his phone, he had had no way to reach us. And we had no clue. Though, turned out, there had been plenty of them:

The clues:

1. We had no issues finding parking at the exchange although the Ragnar info material stressed that you should arrive as late as possible due to limited parking available.
2. The porta potties were untouched. The only thing missing was the "New" seal on the door to break in. Granted, that was not an easy clue, given that most of the "Honey Pots" were immaculate and made you want to move in or at least take a quick nap in there.
3. No volunteers at exchange. Though, who'd be able to distinguish them from runners at 6.30am in the foggy dawn anyway?
4. Mosquitos
5. Ultra runners at exchange. Our team would have been investigated for using illegal, performance enhancing substances, if we'd been that fast.
6. Mysterious phone calls on Paul's phone. On a Sunday morning. Before 7am. Twice...
7. Mosquitos. A lot of them.
8. Runners who sprinted across the finish line after an, that's what we thought, 8.3 mile run.
9. More mosquitos. Biting us everywhere. By now each of us had killed at least 10 of them.
10. No sign of our runner after an hour of waiting which would have translated into him running an 11-12 minute mile. And him being 75 years old...
11. When I took a closer look a couple of days laster and connected the dots, ie. the mosquito bites, they spelled: "Wrong exchange!". I swear...

Well, we drove back to the previous exchange as fast as possible, I jumped out of the van and ran to the exchange point and then as fast as I could with my heavy itching legs. And I actually ran my fastest average pace ever. Granted, it was only 3.3 miles but when I crossed the finish line with an average 8 minute/miles I almost vomited right there.

The last exchanges went uneventful. I was done and felt like I could have run a few more and longer legs. After we had picked up our last runner, we did what people usually do in Napa: drink wine and eat! While the other van ran their long last legs through the Napa heat.

I gotta say that, this was a really great experience and I really want to do this again next year. Like with everything, the second time is probably the best because you can prepare yourself so much better! Bring more or less items, be on time at exchange points and, first of all: READ the material. 

Verstopft

Schreiben. Schreiben hilft. Wer schreibt, der bleibt. Schreiben mit der Hand soll auch besser sein, als Tippen. Bei beiden habe ich das gleiche Problem. Da ist so viel in meinem Kopf, das rauswill und ich denke so viel schneller, als ich schreibe. So sitze ich da mit meinem Notizbuch und Kugelschreiber und schreibe und schreibe in dieser unglaublich schlechten Handschrift. Meine Finger verkrampfen sich während die Worte sich am Ausgang drängeln. Hunderte, tausende, wollen gleichzeitig hinaus, wo doch nur eines zur Zeit Platz hat. Herauskommt Unsinn, nahezu unlesbares Geplapper. Schneller und schneller bewegen sich meine Finger, um Wort um Wort auf dem Papier unterzubringen. Zu viele und zu schnell, um sie in einen sinnvollen Zusammenhang zu bringen. Oder gar, um sie in einer lesbaren Schrift aufzuschreiben. Doch langsam, nach mehreren Seiten voller unlesbarem Unsinn, verlangsamt sich der Strom. Die Panik vor dem Ausgang hat sich gelegt. Man hat festgestellt, dass jeder hinauskommt. Irgendwann. Und wenn Du einen guten Platz ergattern möchtest, neben Freunden, bekannten, oder der Schnitte da drüben, und nicht völlig zerknittert und schlecht angezogen enden möchtest, dann solltest Du geduldig warten, bist Du an der Reihe bist. Nur so kann ich jedes Wort an seinen richtigen Platz schreiben. Dort wo es hingehört. Wo es sich wohl fühlt und vom Leser verstanden und freudig aufgenommen wird. Langsam lichtet sich das Chaos. Wort für Wort wird an den für es vorgesehenen Ort geschrieben. Harmonie und Ruhe und sogar leichte Euphorie tritt ein. Nachbarn unterhalten sich freudig und angeregt miteinander. Scheue verliebte Blicke werden ausgetauscht. Alte Freunde sind nach langer Zeit endlich wieder vereint. Zärtlichkeiten werden ausgetauscht und manchen Paaren wird gar nahegelegt, sich doch ein Zimmer zu nehmen. Endlich ergibt alles einen Sinn. Buchstabe für Buchstabe, Wort für Wort, Satz für Satz und Seite um Seite entsteht eine Geschichte. Hin und wieder findet sich doch mal jemand an der falschen Stelle wieder, aber das schadet dem Gesamtbild keineswegs. Im Gegenteil, es sorgt für Spannung, Abwechslung und überraschenden Wendungen. Und mittlerweile ist es am Ausgang ruhig geworden. Einzelne Nachzügler erscheinen verspätet und werden vom Platzanweiser im Dunkeln zu ihrem Sitz gebracht. Und schließlich ist die Vorstellung geschlossen und kann endlich beginnen.

Die verkrampfte Hand kann sich endlich entspannend. Und der Kopf ist wieder frei und ruhig und in der Lage, sich auf das Leben zu konzentrieren.

Jet lag

The first few times I actually enjoyed having a jet lag. You wake up early and can get more stuff done in a day. If you actually manage to stay awake through the mean afternoon tiredness that feels as if someone does pull ups on your eyelids, you will be wide awake in the evening and can go out till late. And wake up really early again.

I also liked the fact that I wasn't hungry during the day and, consequently, lost a few pounds. And it made the trip to far away places more exciting because you feel out of place and very different from how you feel without the jet lag. I felt like being in a bubble and perceived my environment in a very different way than I would have otherwise.

When I still lived in Europe and had to travel for work to California, the jet lag worked perfectly with my schedule. I woke up early and dealt with things at home and had even time to work out. Then I went to the local office and met people while things became quiet at home. I got to go home relatively early, took a nap or not, depending on the intensity of the pull ups, and went out with friends after. And woke up early again.

Over time and with age, I'm not such a big fan anymore. It's getting harder and harder to stay awake long enough to not wake up in the middle of the night. And when you wake up at 2am there's really nothing you can do. Then you lie awake for hours and fall asleep again at 6am only to be torn out of the deepest sleep by your 7am alarm. And, most of the time, you don't even know where you are.

The not hungry part is replaced by general nausea. Which does not only make me not want to eat but not want to do anything. I cannot think properly, I forget even more things than usual and I'm unable to make decisions or plans. I just want to sleep and not wake up until this is over. And, as if that wasn't enough, every other time when I travel, I catch some bug and arrive or come back home sick. So, in general, it takes me at least one week to really come back home after having traveled to Europe or Asia. Which really sucks when you haven't been home in weeks and really want to see and catch up with all your friends. But then you really just want to sleep until this week of adjusting is over and you're a real person again. It's as if I was a plant that go repot. It takes a while for your body to understand where you are and how it should behave, when it should be tired, when awake, and hungry. If you come back from a month vacation in New Zealand, you can then enjoy the reviving impact the vacation had on your body and mind. But, if you travel for work, that does not happen.

Now that I live in California and travel to Europe for work, the schedule is the worst. You wake up in the morning and you're already behind on work. You meet with the European colleagues and don't get much work done. And in the afternoon, the US folks wake up and require your attention and you can only meet with them in the evening. You're constantly tired, don't have time for work or catching up on sleep.

Don't get me wrong. I know I'm blessed to be able to travel to so many places due to my job and my travel schedule is actually moderate. Nevertheless, I do loose at least a month each year to this readjustment which is really, really sad. But then, every now and then, you land in another country, tired as hell, it's raining, and the plane takes forever to get to the gate, and this happens:

P.S.: Sorry for sneaking in all these cat pictures. I thought that "Yawn" pics would make you better understand what I'm talking about. *Yawn*

Homesick

Home. Recently I thought that my home is now San Francisco. More precise, my room in Barry's apartment. My things, my smell, the cat, my friends. Traveling seemed to have become a nuisance, taking me away from the place and people I love.

But, maybe I'm wrong? What if home is with me wherever I go, wherever I am? What if it is inside of me and I carry it with me to every place I go? Thinking of home like that makes me feel calm. Less restless and impatient when I have to stand in another airport check-in line, wait for the plane to leave, or my bags to arrive. It allows me to enjoy myself wherever I am instead of longing to return to where I want to be instead. I don't need to come home because I am home. No matter where I am.

What does this internal home feel like? Do you know how you feel when you are in a perfect place, like a houseboat on a lake in summer? With all the people you love, good food, the warm sun, perfect glassy water, and nowhere else to be? Feeling loved, rested, peaceful, complete. Nothing is missing. Nothing you'd rather do and nowhere else you'd rather be. A place that makes you think "I could die right here and right now because I know it won't get any better than this." 

So from now on when I'm on the road, in a meeting that doesn't seem to end, on a plane for hours on end or in any other place or situation that used to make me angry, impatient, and wish I was anywhere but in that place, I will just remember my inner home, the best place in the world!

If only

I want to live in a world where no one locks their doors because no one will enter their houses to rob or harm them.

I want to live in a world where girls and boys don't have to be scared of adults they are supposed to trust and will become happy and confident.

I want to live in a world where everyone thinks that they do not need a gun to protect themselves from other people with guns who think that they have to protect themselves from other people with guns who think...

I want to live in a world where everyone greets everyone else with a smile, curiosity, and no assumptions or prejudices of what kind of person the other person might be.

I want to live an a world where people stop to smell the roses.

I want to live in a world where people share what they have with others who have less without asking anything in return and without having to be asked.

I want to live in a world where everyone appreciates the nature, its beauty and natural products without exploiting and destroying them beyond repair.

I want to live in a world where every child is loved and welcomed and brought up to be a confident, compassionate person without prejudice or fear.

Going to start working on that right now!

 

Smog City

Very high doesn't seem that high when you look at it from a high level. A 100 story building is less impressive when you are on the 87th floor of the building next to it.

Looking down doesn't change that much either, between floor 57 and 87 you can't really tell how high up you are. The view is amazing, mostly high rise buildings, islands of smaller, with still 5-10 floors in between. Depending on the smog situation you can see for miles or less than a mile. Surprisingly, there is quite a lot of green to be seen. Alleys and parks. Those trees seem very lively, given the sisyphus effort they're going through every night, transforming carbon dioxide to oxygen.

It's a whole different story when you're standing outside, in front of the building  it's a massively different perspective. I almost twisted my neck last night because I wasn't able to stop looking up to the hotel and office building which has almost 500 meters and the 632m tall construction site next to it.

Height is one way how the buildings compete for your attention. Lights is another. Light shows would be a more accurate term. The minimum you see is a company or hotel name in bright letters. Then there are buildings that have lights up and down all corners. Some green, some red, some blue, some with changing patterns. Others have whole light shows going on on one or more walls of the building. Flashing in all kinds of patterns and colors, trying to get you to look at them. There's too many, though. The eye doesn't know where to look first. And as soon as it has decided for one building to look at it gets distracted by another.

But walking on the streets of Shanghai can be dangerous not only because you might strain your neck or into people or inanimate objects. Often even breathing can be dangerous. The pollution coming from the Northern part of China is immense. After a few deep breaths you start to notice that something's not right. Eventually your throat feels like you're getting a cold. Time to use the burning man mask again :-).

Finished

I made it. I really completed that thing. 26.2 miles, 4 hours and 33 minutes. And while my thighs are feeling as sore as never before, I'm not especially tired or exhausted and I don't feel particular pain besides the soreness.

My friend Tracey and I drove down to San Luis Obispo on Saturday morning. My other friend flaked last minute which was a disappointment but as I've flaked on her plenty of times I couldn't be too angry with her. At least she wasn't the one with the car. Although I knew I was going to miss her "Motivational Dance" 

Lonnie, a huge and incredibly fluffy dog that Tracey rescued a few weeks earlier came with us and made himself comfortable on the backseat. We decided that he was going to be the mascot instead. And he did a pretty good job, although he passed on the dance but after all this excitement and the long trip he's ended up to be even more exhausted than I am now.

After we got my race package which took us quite long as everyone had to admire Lonnie and pet his fluffy fur what he acknowledged with a happy wagging of his fluffy tail and a smile, we got food and drove over to the hotel in Pismo Beach.

As if this beautiful view and the lovely weather combined with great food and company had not been enough, we spotted two whales who made their way along the coast. Such beautiful and majestic creatures and such a good omen for the next day. 

While I had felt very excited and a little nervous the night before, I suddenly got very calm. We had dinner with Tracey's friends and I went to bed shortly after. And I even managed to sleep deeply for four hours and one hour more until I got up at 3.30am, well rested and ready to run! Unfortunately, I couldn't find most of my team until right before the race started, I met a handful of them at the starting line to receive and distribute good luck hugs.

And off I went. And my good luck continued. My running app didn't work first and then it went just crazy and told me I was running 20km an hour! Well, I didn't really care. My playlist was spot on, the weather was perfect, and lots of people had gotten up so early to support the runners and I ran.  

At the first hill I noticed my training. I just kept running. Didn't slow down much. Just made it up that hill. The sun was already coming up behind the mountain to the left but it took a couple more miles until we actually saw here. Throwing her warm light all over the green hills all around us. The nature was beautiful. The air fresh but the wind had slowed down compared to the day before, to just a refreshing breeze that only seemed to get a little stronger when I ran downhill. Following our coach's instructions I kept drinking and eating the disgustingly sweet energy gels and blocks. I had my camel bak refilled a few times and learned that I'm not the only person who struggles with opening the lid :-). 

Those stops caused me to loose the 4.30 pacers and after my second porta potty break I was sure that the 4.45 had passed me, too. Nevertheless, I always had 4 hours 35 minutes finish time in my head. Even though my stupid pebble watch had given up by now and my GPS hadn't even bothered to work correctly at all and was way off. 

So I stopped bothering about the time and just enjoyed everything around me. The green, the young bulls on the hills, flowers everywhere, wine fields, and lots of runners. Everyone with a different strategy. A lot of them very fast. Some of the faster ones I should pass later. And mile after mile went by. And I ran and ran and ran. Like a Volkswagen. And somehow, every time I felt like I really should be somewhere else, my playlist came up with exactly the right song. Or my coach showed up to distract me by repeating that he had utter confidence in me and wasn't worried at all. And left. Not before he told me, that I had left all significant hills behind me. And I kept running. And again, every other time I thought I couldn't do this anymore, another song came up that was perfect for this right moment (like the Run, Run, Run song at a hill at mile 22, contributed by my ex-colleague Josh :-)).

At the point I took this picture I was so sick of the energy gels they handed out at the aid stations. I knew I had to keep eating but I was sure that I would puke if I had one more mouthful of that disgustingly sweet raspberry gel. And, while I was running up that hill, another coach joined me and gave me a motivational talk to get up that hill. "See that telegraph mast up there. Focus on it and just keep running. You almost made it, you're doing great!" I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or to himself... And before he left, he said: "That was the last significant hill..." I didn't mind as I was already dancing up that hill with somebody to Whitney Houston (that one added to my playlist by my cousin Felipe).

And then I did make it to mile 25 where Tracey waited with hugs and a sip of mimosa. And, after all that sweet and sticky stuff, salty peanuts! Yum. And off on the last 1.2 miles. Not without sharing the peanuts with another, thankful runner. And then, on the last half mile, my legs started cramping (!). I gave them a quick stretch and chose to ignore the nasty pain in my thighs and feet and ran a little faster. Up another hill. At mile 26. This time, four coaches where lined up the road and all of them cheered. And the last 0.2 miles where downhill and I even managed to sprint to the finish line. 

When I saw the time I couldn't believe it: 4 hours and 33 minutes! I had made it. Forget pebble, running apps, and GPS. Just follow your heart, enjoy your run, and you'll get to wherever you want at the exact time you want to be there.

Everything is going to be alright

I can't wait for this run to be over. I'm becoming more and more paranoid. First the foot which still hurts a little and I'm not sure if it'll last the whole distance. Then the weather. Rain on the only day I could have driven to San Luis Obispo, every day another part of my body seems to start hurting and then, yesterday, I felt like I was getting a cold. At work, the lymph nodes behind my ears bugged me, I  kept feeling my forehead because I was sure it was getting hotter by the minute. I swallowed twice as many times as normal to make sure that my throat really wasn't sore and I drank enough hot water to fill a bathtub.

I'm still not certain that I won't get sick. Although I am sure I can never really relate to a condition like that but I feel like I'm having glass bones. With every step I take, everything I do, everything I eat, don't eat, everything I touch, every missing layer of clothing I could cause an injury or condition that could keep me from running. I'm obsessed! And I don't like it. I want to have my life back. I want to go outside, eat, drink run, do whatever I want without being concerned about my physical condition. I mean, of course I don't want to get injured or sick. But usually, a cold is not a big thing. But this time, getting sick or injured would mean that months and months of training and getting up early would have been in vain. 

On the plus side, I really can't wait to run. I'm so full of energy, I fell like a racehorse right before the start. Every single muscle in my body is so ready. My head is already out there, running mile after mile, taking it all in. My bag is packed, I've put the perfect playlist together, my fingernails a bright "Team in Training" purple (with a white "Go Team" painted on it). I'm waiting for my friend to pick me up to drive down to San Luis Obispo. In 24 hours I'll already be running. Hopefully, still. And a few hours later it will be over. One way or another. And I will have my life back. Or I will start training for the next one...

One more week

A week from now I will be on my way to San Luis Obispo to run the first marathon of my life. I'm not particularly excited, I don't feel very different than I did before I started my training, I'm not concerned, anxious or scared, either. Not sure if that is just due to my general relaxed attitude before significant events or thanks to the perfect training plan and coaching of the Team in Training coaches. Either way, next Sunday, April 27, at 6am you can find me at the start of the San Luis Obispo Marathon. When I get up at 2.30am my friends who want to come watch will probably come back from their night out and wish me a tipsy "good luck" before they pass out for the next several hours. While I'll be running for the next several hours.

I really don't feel very fit. In fact, when I run with my roommate, he's always a few steps ahead of me and I'm having trouble keeping the pace. However, the longer we run, the better it gets. He gets tired when I am all warmed up and ready to run more. I truly am a long distance runner. I was never particularly fast and never really liked sprints (unless in a car or on a motorcycle). But long distance works. I don't have to torture myself to keep running. I just keep running. Admittedly, the last run was really hard, 19.5 miles. I was not able to complete the 20 miles. I called my father who was waiting for me half a mile away and asked him to pick me up. There was no way that I could run the additional 0.5 miles. Unthinkable to run additional 6.5 miles!

But, someone told me that you run the last 6 miles with your heart. Well, that sounds nice. My head is usually stronger than my heart  (unfortunately not often enough) but when I think of how utterly confused and useless I was after those last long runs, due to exhaustion, I don't think that my head will be in a position to make any decision or get my body to do anything once the 20 mile line is crossed. It will shut down the more complex areas and focus on the more essential task: "Don't die!" Furthermore, I keep telling myself that the main reason for me being that exhausted was an unfortunate combination of jet lag, lack of sleep, exhaustion from work travel, and the fact that there was almost no wind, it was relatively sticky, and I drank water mixed with energy gel which eventually made my mouth very sticky. But the latter wasn't bad enough for me to actually stop and get some fresh water. All in all, enough to hope that the elimination of these factors and the added race atmosphere will be enough to get me through the last 6 miles of the race. And, of course, the reason for the run. Go Team.

13 kilometers to the finish line

I am not exactly there yet. I have to complete a few more runs before the actual race and, of course, the race itself. But last Saturday's 18 mile run got me even closer to the marathon distance. I felt a little beaten up, the balls of my feet hurt and I was very tired for the rest of the day. But otherwise I'm fine. No knee or ankle pain. Lower back is silent. And I haven't heard from Achilles in a while. But I still don't like getting up at 5am on a Saturday. Although, this time I didn't really sleep that well so I had been awake for an hour before I had to get up. The upside of that was, once more, that I got to see the city like I don't see her very often. Thanks to daylight saving time, it was still dark, almost an hour before the sun was supposed to rise. As I was a little early, I stopped to take some pictures.

It took us some time until we got started. By that time my fingers and toes felt like icicles. But I have enough winter running experience to know that this won't last long once you got going. And so it was. Mile 2 to 4 ensured that we got warm quickly. Uphill on Tennessee Valley Road. And, if we needed a proof for how early it was, we met a Turkey in the middle of that road. He wasn't really sure what to do and kept running from one side of the road to the other. Which, in turn, made us run from one side of the road to the other as he seemed upset, spreading his feathers out and cocking his head back and forth. But, he was as silent as a you would expect a Turkey bird to be... Eventually, we managed to pass him and he calmed down and vanished into the bushes. Poor thing.


Further we went. Downhill towards Tennessee Beach. It was such a lovely morning. The sun already reached through the gaps in the hills, the grass and leaves were covered by a light mist and the downhill trail to the beach helped to recover from the previous hill. However, once we reached the beach we had to turn around and it was all uphill again.

The beach trail was the nicest part of the run. Once we got back to Sausalito, we ran back and forth on the flat sidewalk and bike/pedestrian path that runs from Sausalito to Tiburon and is frequented by cyclists, runners, and tourists. Fortunately, at this time of day, not that many tourists. Only athlete cyclists, not the "Bike the Bridge" dudes, who have never ridden a bicycle in their whole life but think that it's a good idea to start doing it in San Francisco. Only to post pictures of them crossing the Golden Gate bridge on a rented bicycle. I hope that the sum of their pleasure offsets the sum of annoyance they cause for all runners, bikers, car and motorcycle drivers as well as pedestrians.

Anyway, back to the run. From mile 9 it was mostly flat and hardly any shade. Hence, every water stop was more than welcome and I was, once again, happy to have my racerback shirt. Even though my roommate makes fun of me when I leave the house with it. "It's astonishing, what you are able to accomplish, considering your condition." is what he said when he saw me with the "hunchback" caused by the two liters of water on my back. I don't care. Being able to drink anytime I want to makes it worth it.

At mile 12 I spotted two of my friends on their bicycles. I knew that they wanted to go on a ride so I had been screening the passing cyclists. But with their jerseys, helmets, and sunglasses, they all look the same. So when I did recognize them and they managed to stop to give me a sweaty hug it gave me the boost that I needed at that rather boring but nevertheless exhausting part of the run. I'm really looking forward to the actual run. Having all those Team in Training members and maybe some friends, and Tracey who will be coaching runners on the course, should hopefully give me the energy I need to run the last painful miles.

Back at our starting point at mile 13, I got rid of superfluous clothing and fluids, had half a banana, and started the last 5 miles of my run. Initially, I thought I could just pretend that this was a short 5 mile run like I hadn't done the 13 miles before. This worked out pretty well. Until the first incline. Your body knows bloody well that you did not just start running but rather two hours ago and he does make sure that you do, too. (At this point I need to explain why I refer to my body as "him". Body in German is masculine. And, while this is certainly not true for mine, that's what I'm used to. And, honestly, he's a strong dude who can deal with some serious stuff :-)). Faced with that kind of resistance, I referred to one of my "How to get up that hill when your legs hurt like hell and the only thing you want to do is stop running, go home and sleep?" strategies. I turned up my music and started singing. What do I sing? Well, this strategy works with a wide range of music from The Carpenters to Foo Fighters. Singing while running not only distracts you from the effort but, more importantly, it helps you get all the oxygen you need. You focus on the lyrics and breathing becomes automatic. And, before you know it, you're on top of the hill (or "the Top of the World looking, down at creation...").

This time I had the opposite experience than during the last miles of my previous long run. My body was fine, nothing hurt really bad but I just could not get myself to run faster in order to increase my average speed. I also noticed, that I had relied on my own water supply too much and drank too much, too early. And, to make matters worse, I had to skip the second last water stop because it got pulled over by the police for not letting pedestrians crossing the street on a cross walk. Ha, those pedestrians were fine and far from being in any danger whatsoever. But this poor thirsty runner had to run another 1.5 miles before she was able to replenish with half a liter from very tiny cups... But that's very good to know for the race day, the real marathon.

And, finally, I made it. And thanks to a sprint on the last 200 meters, even managed to cut off a couple of seconds off my average speed but not enough to break the speed record in my running app. Broke all other possible records with that run, though :-).

26.2...kilometers

Last Saturday I got two miles closer to marathon distance! And closer to the marathon. 49 days is what the newly activated countdown in my running app tells me. It's a little disconcerting, seeing the seconds, minutes, hours, and days counting down. It's really coming up!

And again, when my alarm clock rang at 5am I did not feel like getting up and running for a couple of hours. I'd rather turned to the other side and slept for at least 5 more hours. But, but because it "hilft ja nix", is what we say in German, I got up and made myself a bowl of oatmeal. It was a particularly sad day which did not make getting up early any easier. My roommate had decided to euthanize his cat, Boris, who had been sick for a while and got recently diagnosed with cancer. I thought I had seen him for the last time the night before, because he tends to sleep in my roommate's room and his door was closed (because, as any reasonable person at that time on a Saturday he was still asleep). But when I looked up I saw Boris come into the kitchen and looking at me. So I gave him his last meal and said good bye forever. Which is such a hard thing to do. But that's another story.

And off I went to the meeting point, looking forward to running two and a half hours along San Francisco's waterfront. At first, though, I ran half a mile in the wrong direction. I'm really not good at following a marked trail. But then, we were supposed to add a one mile loop at the end of the run in order to get to 16 miles. Why not do it at the beginning. I noticed that I had not set my running app back to "miles" before I took off and now it was counting in kilometers. Which is so much more satisfying! By the time I got back to the start for the first water stop I was at 3.5km already. And when I started the ascend into Presidio Park, I had run 5km which used to be when I was done running. But now I was barely warmed up. The first hill is usually when I think that it was not a good idea to do this marathon thing. Your breath becomes faster, your legs remember their last workout and make sure you do, too, and you start repeating your mantra "I can do it, I can do it, I can do it" and keep running. But don't forget to look up and around you. Presidio Park received the first warmth of the recently risen sun. The sun beams were crawling through the branches and stems of the big Reds, keen on drying the morning mist and removing the pre sun rise cold to make room for a very lovely early spring day. The trees seem to look at you with a slightly amused raised eyebrow, not fully understanding why anyone would do this to themselves instead of just remain in the same place for all their lives, only moving vertically, never horizontally.

On the other side of the hill, the ocean appeared. Similar to last time, the pink-blue surface got more foggy towards the horizon but you could tell that it was just a matter of time until the sun would chase away the mist and clear up the sky to a perfect blue. Thinking these thoughts, and taking in those views, I didn't even realize that I had reached the peak and highest elevation of today's run and I happily descended back down, resting a little bit before the long flat part along the waterfront.

Back at the water stop I had reached the 10km mark. And it still felt great. It's amazing what happens to your body with the right amount of training. A previously daunting run like 10km feels like warm up, nothing hurts (yet) and your body wants more. And it got more. 16.2 kilometers more. Although, when I reached the Aquatic Park, I was tempted to ask one of the swimmers if they wanted to run my remaining miles while I'd swim for them. I did not feel like doing this when I returned the same way.

Further I ran along Fisherman's Wharf. I usually avoid that area but at that time of day, there were only a few tourists and Alcatraz visitors so it was less of an obstacle course than usual. The turning point was right under the Bay Bridge. You can see the bridge relatively early when you run along the Embarcardero. The fact that it is so huge makes it seem very close. But it's not. It was quite a lot of running until I spotted the arrow that told me to turn around. At that point, 18km, my legs, hips, and my lower back were hurting a little bit. My toes and feet, too. Breathing was fine and I felt like running for many more hours. But at this point, you notice how strong you really are. How strong the muscles are that lift your legs and support the areas of your body that feel most of the impact.

And, on top of everything, you notice how much your mind is able to convince your body that running such long distance is a good idea. You can practically hear them arguing...

Body: "Dude, can you explain to me again why I'm not in bed right now, sleeping in, relaxing from last night's party that I should have gone to?"
Mind: "We're here for a good cause. And look at this amazing view across the Bay and the Ocean. It's so much more beautiful at this time of day."
Body: "Nah, I can't see it. Feet, Hips, Lower Back, and Thighs would like to stop this nonsense right now and go for a beer and breakfast at that diner over there."
Mind: "Bud, it's only 8 more kilometers and it's for a good cause. And you will feel amazing once you're done. Think of everything you've accomplished so far! And remember how good you look in the mirror!"
Body: "True that, but right now I really don't want to do this anymore. Who cares if there are love handles and the pants are too tight. I can live with that. Can we stop running now and do what normal people do on Saturday mornings?"
Mind: "Shut up and keep running or I make you do Bar Method 7 times a week."
Body: "Okay, okay. No need for violence. Just 8 kilometers, I can do that. I can do that faster!"

And it does. It keeps running. Despite the pain. Somehow it finds some more resources, taps into them and actually begins to run faster. Until the next hill. Hills should be banned from the last 5 miles before the finish line. Or let's say 10. At last year's half marathon, there even was an overpass, read: STAIRS! on the last mile of the race. That's when Body says: "I don't care how many miles we've run so far. I'm done. Finish. Over and out. Mind, why don't you do the last mile?"

But this time, it was just 26.2 kilometers (16.3 miles), not miles. So Mind didn't have to do too much convicing work to get body to run the last few. I actually managed to run a little faster and decrease my minutes/mile ratio. And, finally, I was done! 9.34am on a Saturday and done with working out until Monday evening! Time to start crying about Boris, who had passed a way 4 minutes earlier.

14 miles ain't 14 kilometres

I just got back from the farthest run I've completed in my life so far. 14 miles. When I woke up at 5.15am this morning I did not feel like running at all. In fact, I've been fighting of a cold for almost two weeks. This little itch in your throat that comes and goes, heavier sweating than usual when you're exercising and sometimes at night. So far, I managed to hold it at bay but I was a little concerned that the long run might allow it to finally succeed. Nevertheless, I got up, had breakfast, got on my motorcycle, and drove to the meeting point of my training group at Ocean Beach. I love the time right before the sunrise. Even though it's the coldest time of the night. The whole city seems to hold its breath, waiting for the bright, warm, orange ball to finally show up so it can exhale and breathe again. And start the new day.

Ten minutes later, I was on the trail. Running up along the waterfront, uphill to the Cliff House and farther up on the Lands End Trail. It was beautiful. Right before sunrise, the water a velvety blue, slight fog above the surface along the hills on the other side of the bay. Morning mist along the trail. And no one to be seen. Well, until I almost ran into a coyote who disappeared into the bushes just a few meters in front of me. And then, behind the next turn, the priceless view: the bridge. Sleepy, still. Starting to stretch out and reach her cold bones towards the sunlight that had crawled over the hills. Its beams breaking through the branches of the trees in front and next to me. It was 7am, I had 12 more miles ahead of me, stairs and hills, but I felt so happy and energized. This gorgeous ocean to my left, the sleepy bridge ahead and soft ground beneath my feet.

At the first water stop I got sent on the wrong track but as the next stop was at the starting point, I just ran back on the streets and enjoyed a beautiful view over Sunset all the way to Pacifica. While running up another hill. Then back down past the Cliff House overlooking Ocean Beach, some dog walkers and the first surfers. I prefer this beach to any other beach in the world. It reminds me of home, of the west coast of northern Germany. Well, it's more like the adult version of that coast. It's wild, not made to sunbathe ot to go for a nice swim. Sometimes it's calm. Sometimes huge waves keep crashing on the sand. It's different, every time I make it out here. I wish I would come more often.

When I reached the next water stop I was told that I was one mile ahead due to my detour. So I decided that I could just run 14 instead of the planned 13 miles. And I kept running. A small loop along the water down Great Highway and back to the same water stop and then into Golden Gate Park. 3 miles in and 3 miles out. The first 3, miles 9-11, uphill. Well, one of these slowly ascending hills, that never seem to end. But, 3 miles uphill meant 3 miles downhill after that. So I went and noticed that, even though my feet hurt and my butt still felt sore after Thursday's work out, I still felt good and so full of engergy and motivated. Not tired at all. Thank you, runner's high :-).

Finally, I passed the De Young Museum and reached the turning point. At that time, the park was already full with runners. But it was still beautiful in its morning glow. Barely awake, still sand in its eyes. At that time I had gotten two calls from my mentor and coach already, as I couldn't seem to stay on the marked track and they wanted to make sure I was alright. Which I was. I became a little faster, determined to reach the below 9.55 minutes/mile mark before I got to the finish line. And I made it! Two more months to go until the marathon and it feels great. Just 12 more miles. Might feet might not like that but I'm ready to go :-). And here is why I'm doing this: http://pages.teamintraining.org/gba/sanloobi14/evachief