Postcards from Holland: Trail Running at 's Heerenberg

I don't subscribe to bucket lists and here's why: I am convinced that my mind is limited relative to the infinitely beautiful possibilities in this vast universe.  I can only imagine what is comprehensible to me, what is already known, by myself or others.  But what about those incomprehensible, unimaginably exhilirating things?  I certainly don't want to exclude myself from those.

I had that exact thought when The Dutch and I went trail running in the forests of the east of Holland, almost at the German border.  I never could have come up with that in my bucket list (just like this European sauna highjack last year) but after the amazing experience, I tell you, it's definitely bucket list-worthy (just like this European sauna highjack last year).

I run in my neighborhood which is at 4500 feet elevation with some steep inclines so doing some high intensity trail runs at sea level was easy breezy, even with some climbs.  The clean smell of the forest makes you rush with adrenaline.  There were mossy paths and odd mushrooms sprouting in unusual spots.  Although the trails were sometimes shared with mountain bikers, other trail runners and even some horses, it still felt isolated and removed from everything I knew about Europe.  It was an utter delicious way to experience another continent.  In a land where I am an outsider, an alien, a stranger, where language still is a barrier sometimes, here in the forest I suddenly belonged. I was estranged no more.  

We ended our run after about an hour and descended into endless corn fields, the corn ready to be harvested any day now.  The air was quiet, the sky a bit somber that day (as it is most days in the fall in this side of the world), but that just made the green hues of everything around even greener.  I can't help the silly grin on my face.  I can't believe I was just running in the forests wedged between The Netherlands and Germany!  

Travel means so many things to many people, but for me, this is a huge and important part of what it means to travel - to find exhilaration in surprising experiences.  

Bergherbos in the map

***

The next day was another day of firsts.  First time in Germany, first time on the Autobahn.  We crossed the German border and jumped on the Autobahn for Berlin, which is about a five hour drive.  Yes, we were driving 112 miles per hour (and maybe even more, when I wasn't looking).  So that's what no speed limits feels like!  It was honestly a little disconcerting to be going that fast.  I thought the Autobahn would be desolated but I was surprised to see that it was just like any freeway in America... well, except you can run as fast as you can in certain parts and ideally on a German vehicle (which we didn't).   

The scenery when driving through the German countryside was so pretty, especially when we drove through rolling hills.  Everything was so green and quaint, windmills were everywhere.  Who knew?

What also distinguishes the autobahn from the run-of-the-mill freeway is that great espresso is not hard to find along the autobahn.  There were Illy and Segafredo cafes on almost every gas station.  As well as the German Ritter Sport, which is the German Hershey's (but better!).  I love it how Europeans won't stand for mediocre coffee or chocolate!

The 312.

Every once in a while, I find myself struck with awe and overwhelmed with little-girl giddiness when I'm traveling. I could be watching the sunset in a secluded island or I could be walking under the canopy of concrete and glass skyscrapers, but that feeling is unmistakably the same. I would go from being so caught up with the place - its smells, its sounds, its energy, until slowly everything just dissipates and you're just paralyzed, completely absorbed and one with the place. It's difficult to describe.

I was walking hurriedly home on a Wednesday afternoon after spending the day listening to discussions about governmental budget crunching so I can change into my running clothes for a dusk run. It was a wonderful feeling to temporarily and momentarily belong somewhere foreign and unfamiliar. I chose to walk right next to the Chicago river. Midway to the hotel, I froze. Standing there, I felt extremely lucky. I realized that everything that happened in my life, and I mean every single thing, led me there, to that particular moment.

Isn't that awesome?

Wonder is an amazingly beautiful thing, along with its twin, curiosity. I sometimes imagine what it would be like to lose all interest in the world and other cultures, or to lose the ability to be mystified and fascinated. The idea of a life devoid of the ability to welcome a new adventure makes me shudder.

Chicago is not especially beautiful, I don't think. I'm certain there are more exceptional cities in the world, but at that moment, it felt exactly the right snug fit. It was the sometimes elusive intersection of big city and small community, of industrialism and nature, of power and sobriety, of form and function. All you need to do is look up at the skyline on the east and you will be transfixed by the nobility of the Chicago Tribune tower and disgusted by the Trump Tower next to it. (What do they say again about men who drive big trucks?). Yet, it somehow works! Downtown Chi-town is clean, safe, and walkable. Public transportation works and is pretty dang inexpensive ($2.25 each way from Midway to downtown on the orange line of elevated train, playfully dubbed as the "El"). The city is surrounded by water and there were old bridges and canals and riverside walking trails that sells itself to an attractive lifestyle. I was told that it's the Midwest flair that distinguishes Chicago from any other big city out there, though, and I could not agree more. The Chicagoans you pass on the street look healthy and alive (as opposed to the zombies in other cities of similar size). They even smile!

The 312 by Foot (in Running Shoes)

Downtown Riverside is a great place for a run. Whether you head east or west on Wacker Drive, it's a great way to get intimate and integrate with the City. This is precisely why I love running when I'm visiting a place. When you're on foot, and in this case, in running shoes, you are unafraid to explore and to get lost. In this age of hypertechnology, I find that running in a foreign town presents a rare opportunity to use your gut feel and instinct as your guidebook and compass anymore. The sweet reward? Literally running into some pretty amazing sights you would not otherwise see!

The 312 in Two Wheels (in Two Hours)

Especially if you're traveling for work, it can be a quagmire to try and be everywhere and see everything in a limited window. I tend to try and get on a saddle when this happens (actually, even when I have all the time in the world, my preferred mode is the bicycle). It gets you places quicker without having to worry about traffic, parking, and getting run over while you stop for pictures. Chicago was perfect for an afternoon bicycle ride since they have a trail right next to Lake Michigan. P.E.R.F.E.C.T.

I rented a hybrid for $20 two hours before closing Bobby's Bike Hike on 465 N McClurg Court. NPR was blaring when I walked in, my bike had a name ("Gus"), and the guy assisting me punctuated his sentences with "Right on!". I felt right at home! :)

I did an 8 mile loop heading north first to Lincoln Park, then south to Millenium Park. It was easy breezy (literally), the sun was glistening on beautiful Lake Michigan. Again, I cannot help but feel happy for the privilege to be alive and well enough to be pedaling my way in this vibrant city.

My 8 mile loop on Lakefront Trail

Thanks, Gus!

I didn't expect Chicago to be this beautiful.

.. and playful! Ferris wheel on Navy Pier

The Art Institute of Chicago

Millenium Park art

Chicago is recognizable by the Cloud Gate, but more known as "The Bean"

The Jay Pritzker Pavillion designed by Frank Gehry

Gastrolicious in 312

When in Chicago, eat what the Chicagoans eat.. at least once, then move on. The bellhop sent me to Giordano's for some authentic deep dish Chicago-style pizza. After I had walked for at least two miles, this "slice" was a guiltless treat. I ate at the bar to skip the very long wait.

Publican is great, local food on the Fulton Market where you can rub elbows with locals and if that's kind of night, celebrity chefs. The food was hearty and was oozing with quality. I loved the convivial atmosphere of this place!

For coffee, I would not go anywhere else but Intelligentsia, where a good cup of joe is both an art and passion.

For some serious mixology and radical libations, treat yourself to a unique Chicago experience and trot to Aviary on West Fulton. It's not a bar, but more like a science lab where cocktails are being reinvented. Think a cosmopolitan with marshmallow-esque balls served on a small steel bowl, sipped with a spoon. It's genius! According to my Chicagoan friends-slash-epicurean gurus, Dean and Eliza, Aviary is owned by Grant Achatz of El Bulli in Spain, one of the world's most prestigious restaurants.

I sadly passed on any culture during this trip, but then that just gives me legitimate reason to return. Chicago was a wonderful experience and if you can't tell yet, the Windy City blew me away.

The Moment of Truth

It did it! I have trained myself to run. And today's ultimate frisbee game was testament to that glorious achievement.

I caught up with Minnesota earlier in the week. It is rare that we find both ourselves in town for the weekend and we decided to meet at the Saturday morning pickup game. I haven't been back in the field since my first game. Schedules just haven't yet aligned until this morning.

I was so frustrated with myself on that first day that I vowed to myself that a game of disc will never kick my ass again. It only took four months of training of running about 4-5 miles a week, but the day of reckoning is here. I CAN RUN! Oh, the taste of sweet, hard-earned success...

I had a late night last night, which unabashedly consisted of hours of dancing on three inch heels and shamefully a couple of colorful alcoholic concoctions, and yeah, a shot of Petron. I had a splendid time, so no regrets.

I woke up to a bleak and cold morning (hangover-free, thank you very much) and blisters on the ball of my feet (one day, I will find the perfect dancing shoes that performs 10 on function and 10 on form - hard to find!). I dragged myself out of the covers and made it to pickup half an hour after it had started. To warm up, I decided to run a couple of laps and instantly, I felt my body punishing me for everything that transpired the night before. I had to keep going, I keep telling myself. The Colonel said there's something useful about training your body to perform under duress, so I kept my legs moving, pleading my lungs to please, please cooperate. At the second lap, my hands were getting clammy. My warm-up run didn't quite feel right. I feel out of breath and my foot hurts. Am I going to be a disappointment to myself again? Am I going to run like a freaking girl again today?

I got in the game and was matched up with a skinny 11-year old boy (it was a mismatch, I tell you - he was quick and quite a catcher). The first few sprints up and down the field felt... right. I was waiting for the big collapse from breathlessness which I got plenty of in my first game.. But it never came. It started hitting me -

Oh my God. I CAN FREAKING RUN.

We'll talk about the work I need to do on my throws and catches, but hey, I'm not where I was the first time and I'm beyond happy. I missed a couple of catches, but scored one (pity) goal, so I don't think I came out in the red in the end.

When I wasn't in the game, I was practicing throws and catches with Minnesota and/or the 11-year old. It was such a beautiful day to be out. The views of the mountains were beautiful. The sun came out for a little bit. The people are so easygoing and casual. Although it's a competitive sport, there's hardly any ego involved. The grass was green and Marley (a German Sheperd-pitbull mix) was running around engaging himself in the hippie energy of it all. I thought to myself - this is why I live here. This is why I'm not in a major metropolis right now. I had that pretty much all my life and that is not the lifestyle that appeals to me right now. The quality of my life right now is pretty up the charts and that is precisely the life I want to live. I don't have to deal with the unnecessary stress of long commutes, overpopulation, and all the excessives found in larger cities. I have time (which doesn't have to be a luxury, but sadly, for some people it is) for the more important, nourishing things in life than the rat race that I a

lways thought was the only life for me.

I am at a beautiful place in my life. This feels a lot like the way it did a year ago - with one major difference. A year ago, I was Superwoman. Today, I'm just human, no different from you. After my admission of my Personal Four Noble Truths, I found myself in an entirely more honest place. It might have been one of the most difficult things about myself to face and admit (publicly, no less!), but honest work IS meant to be difficult and painful sometimes. I am teaching myself not to deny my shadow, my ego, but instead integrate it into Me.

And although this place is a lot familiar, there is one staggering difference. I am feeling the tenderness. I am tasting the sweetness.

Namaste and Love to everyone.

Photo of downtown taken almost exactly a year ago

No Expectations. Only Surprises.

One of the best feelings like rainy Monday mornings (oh my God, everything is just so fresh…), is the feeling you get around people who do not expect anything from you. It’s not very easy to describe and I do think it takes a certain degree of awareness to tap into it, but when you get tuned to that place where the guards go down and you are not merely someone playing a role or reading from a script, it feels so damn good. This is why I crave being around my family so much. To them, I’m not someone who has accomplished this or that, who owns this or that. The labels of “spiritual”, “intellectual”, “successful”, yadda yadda yadda fall away. I’m not intimidating and powerful. I’m not *insert adjective here* relative to somebody else. I would like to think that I have even transcended the role of “daughter” or “cousin” or “niece”. When I’m around these people, I become Nobody. I love it. It's refreshing. Sometimes, the Somebody-ness that other people have built around me gets exhausting. And the humble home on Strawberry Way becomes my refuge.

My Grandma of 92 ½ also provides such warm solace and she doesn’t even know it. She doesn’t care about my identity, my role. Heck, she doesn’t even remember me! I am nameless, void of an identity and a personality. Every time I see her, it is like she is meeting me for the very first time. She is hardly ever coherent, and oftentimes, she would be asleep. When we watch people age like this, we really realize how the material, worldly things, have very little bearing. There is absolutely nothing material she needs or wants from me. There is absolutely nothing material I can give her. The only thing I can give her is love, and the only way I can give that to her is shower her with undiluted, unadulterated, full strength presence. When I’m with her, I am WITH HER. Nothing else. One day, her and I sat in the living room and I just let her listen to Bach from my iPod. Sometimes, I meditate while I hold her hand. I mean, what else can you do?

On the same floor is Rudy. He is, I don’t know, maybe 80, and the first time he saw me by the elevator, he said, “Will you save the first dance for me?” He won me over that day. Now, every time I see him, I talk to him for a little bit and he would be grinning from ear to ear. I would hear him chuckling as the elevator doors slowly shut before me. Nursing homes are brutal and sterile; there is very little laughter around. If I can give someone a few laughs with a smile and a wink, I’m all about it.

The non-romantic, non-relationship with The Italian is going well. Sometimes I wonder if having him around could be one of the psychologically healthiest things for me right now. It is a very honest, uncomplicated, clean relationship. It is really teaching me to slow down. This person seriously does not want nor need anything from me, it is very liberating. I have to admit that in the beginning, it was very confusing for the ego. How could this person not want anything from me?!

But the longer I know him, the more I see his conviction, strength and most of all, integrity. He does not want to get me laid. He doesn’t want me to care for him. He doesn’t want me to fall in love with him. I, in turn, trust him and do nothing to manipulate him or the situation. We are each our individual person and no attempts at filling each other's cavities - no co-dependency. All motives are made explicit - no stealthy manipulative tactics.

Yesterday, he made me push my limits and made me run three miles in the middle of the day while I trailed half a mile behind him. Absolutely awful for my ego, but good for my Self. Back at his place, he commended me for eating my lunch slowly and at the table, as opposed to eating on the couch in front of the TV as he often does. It's miniscule, but in a day, we have made a difference in each other's lives (as is almost always the case with The Italian). He teaches me to speed up once in a while. I teach him to slow down once in a while. Life is good. :)

This baffles a couple of people who know that I have been seeing him for seven months now. Why aren’t you together? Why are you still seeing him? Why? What are you guys exactly?

Aside from what I have already gushed in this and in previous posts, who the F cares??? What does it matter? Why complicate something that doesn’t need to be complicated? Our conversations are always enriching. We do a lot of fun, great stuff together and we always have an amazing, full and rich time. We share a deep mutual respect for each other, and while there's always work at the acceptance part, we try our hardest. The whole process is as organic like I've never seen before. When our time together is done, we release it. It’s done. Finito.

Non-possessive. Non-attachment. Complete trust in the moment and in the unknown.

No expectations.

Only surprises.

Namaste!

Thursdays are the New Saturdays

I went on my usual 2 mile run around the Marina, as is my ritual on Thursday nights when I'm not hanging out with friends. I never ran to Tiesto before and I think I can get in a space more suitable for running when I'm not trying to run, sing and dance at the same time as is usually the case when I listen to hiphop.

Funny how sometimes you just absolutely have no idea about how some days are going to turn out. I was hoping to just run some angst off today, then have a quiet dinner at home, maybe stop for some Black Bear lava cake before I head home. Instead I ended up making new friends, hanging out in the sun and laughing at silly stuff.

After my run, I noticed a couple of guys playing beach volleyball. I played a little bit in high school and if I see a group playing, I could not resist asking if I can play (I did this in Cabo and Lake Tahoe once). So I played with these guys. After a while, more and more people were joining in. We ended up playing six on six, one woman on each team, sideout, race to 15, server point. Some of the guys are obviously already good friends and their joshing and bickering was hilarious to watch. It was infectious, I forgot all about my anger. :) We played through the beautiful crimson mountain sunset until it got dark and made it impossible to see.

This is interesting because an email at work went out early this week about an indoor, no-spike volleyball league and I emailed them that I'm interested, just don't know enough people to form a team with. If you believe in synchronicities at all, I think this counts as one.

Guess what I'm doing next Thursday night? :)

All Words Are Lies

"All words are lies. At best, they point toward the truth."

These are the first few words of what will become one of my most favorite books for sheer resonance. "Shadows on the Path" is written by a Abdi Assadi, a contemporary seeker and healer living and practicing in New York. I like him because I sense the realness and conviction that comes from a place of relentless attention to doing one's homework. I came upon the book by accident and months later, learned that he intentionally did not hire a publicist after publishing the book. He believed that whoever needs to read it will find it. Hmmm...

What I feel tonight I cannot quite articulate and I will not try. Granted that hormones probably play a role in this current undefined state, I will not capitalize on that since I think it's a cop out. Yeah, there are no labels for how I feel. I cannot even begin to describe it and if I attempt to, I will lie. I remember watching one of my first orchestra concerts and was amazed how the music takes you to places within you that you both recognize and don't. I'm in one of those undefinable places right now.

The Colonel and I exchanged emails today (as honest as our words can take us). The conversations pretty much revolved on:

1. Deadheading, which in gardening refers to pruning or cutting off dead flowers to encourage new blooms. I think the metaphor is so profound. As a sidenote, I have never heard of this term before since I never really had any business in the yard before, and when I looked it up, Wikipedia says that the undying, loyal fans of The Grateful Dead are also called Deadheads. Funny.

2. Catharsis (Ancient Greek: κάθαρσις) is a Greek word meaning "cleansing" or "purging". It is derived from the verb καθαίρειν, kathairein, "to purify, purge," and it is related to the adjective καθαρός, katharos, "pure or clean." (source: Wikipedia, who else?)

Well. Enough about that crud.

I went for a run tonight and I'm trying not to get too excited, but I think I might be getting the hang of it. I'm still very conditional about the running (i.e. if only it wasn't 90 degrees out, if only I had the view of the vast ocean, if only I had better earphones, if only they made better wicking clothes for women, if only I could run naked, yadda yadda yadda...).

Some pictures of what I saw today:

Giddyup,

Trish

And She Ran.

Be grateful for those moments when your ass gets kicked. Take these as humbling lessons that yet again, there is always work to be done. You can always go deeper.

I cannot believe how I suck at running. I have picked it up for about a week now and except for Half Moon Bay, I don't think I have even run for a full mile. However, since I’ve made a deliberate intention to train myself to run, it’s astonishing how I watch running change me. My mind has gone unwieldy since my return from Mexico, which probably has to do with the fact that I don’t have any major trips lined up for a while. Suddenly, I have no quick escape routes. I had to confront my current reality and the spoiled brat within me didn’t want to. I had this restlessness I cannot understand. My fuse was short with people and to me means that I was not being loving enough to myself, thus the shortage of love to others. I did not want to be by and with myself which is very, very unnatural for me. I wasn’t lucid – dreaming or awake. Nothing was flowing.

A friend helped me get out of the funk, but running has been helping me stay out of it. Life is not always pleasant. We deal with things we don't necessarily want to all the time. But they have to be done. For some people it's relationships with in-laws. For me, it's running. It's just not enjoyable for me. And this is precisely why I keep pushing myself to do it. I hate the idea of limits and boundaries. But I'm finding that the more I command myself to run, the more I am in control of my mind. And when this happens, I more accepting of life as it is.

So I drag myself to run, and although I don't think I have made any considerable and reportable progress on the running, I find that I am a lot quieter than I have been in these last few weeks. If this is all I ever get out of this, I suppose it's not that bad of a deal.