Running and Traveling-- Therapy in disguise

November is my month

Travel and Running are the best types of therapy. For me, they allow me to take a step back and look at the world from another angle-- whether it be from one of sweat and running shoes or from foreign languages and lost translations.  Life is hard, but life is also full of joy. You just have to push through the crap, sometimes. For me, Travel and Running help me push the crap off the mountainside.

So, in effort to remember how powerful Running and Travel truly can be, I wanted to remember those moments where either one allowed me to withstand whatever life was throwing at me just a little bit better. How did they change my perspective and allow me to end up stronger in the end? Perhaps it could inspire us all to allow the things we love in life to heal us, just a bit more than we do today.

Running through the anxiety of the unknown
During my 2nd semester of my Senior year of college, I started to hit a "holy crap, I am graduating and moving to a new city with a new job and 'life' is starting..." situation. It sounds like a pretty standard moment of anxiety for most 22 year olds and I'm sure most everyone can relate to feeling that way at one point. For me, it was huge and caused a whole series of stomach aches, headaches, and overall fear of the unknown. I saw my friends deal with that anxiety is varying ways-- some just went into avoidance mode and refused to look for jobs and instead spent their time at the bar (nothing wrong with the bar, but perhaps when that is all you do there is a bit of an issue), some went to into "I'm SO excited, cannot wait" lying mode which is the biggest form of avoidance because I knew they were as scared as I was but hiding it, and some were just full on hot messes with tears and stress in unnerving amounts.

For me, I decided to just run. And run a lot. Before my 2nd semester Senior year, I was always a big exerciser-- always going to the gym and keeping in shape, but never a serious runner. I think I was just too scared. Yet, what I realized was that I feared the unknown more than I feared running. So, I decided to just run. I went to the indoor track that winter with my handheld, oddly heavy CD player with Elton John playing (I LOVED Elton John in College) and decided I would run for 1 hour without stopping. Before that time 40 minutes was my max. To me, 1 hour seemed like a lifetime and huge accomplishment. I remember those hours fondly-- dodging the Archery class and the runaway arrows, dodging the guys that would sprint around the track one time and then consider their Cardio "done", and mostly I remember thinking AND not thinking. I remember that time as a moment where it was just me, my music, and whatever my physical body would withstand. Sometimes I thought. Most of the times I didn't. Most importantly, I wasn't paralyzed with fear of what was going to happen but instead, I was focused on what I could control and how I could use running as a lever to stay calm . Back then, running wasn't about seeing the world (like it is today), it was about seeing myself. Allowing myself time to see myself. I truly believe those hour runs changed me as a person and allowed me to withstand a lot of stress. It also introduced me to distance running, which is something that is so much a part of me today I cannot imagine a life without it. To this day, running is my calm.

My Calm



Travel that allows you to escape the crap and embrace the okay
I don't believe in avoiding things. I believe in trying fix things. Yet, at the end of the day, I believe there is probably a fine and completely acceptable line between appropriately removing yourself from the crap while not necessarily looking for the perfect fix. Sometimes you can't fix something and that is hard for me to realize. You just have to let time fix it. Or, as I say-- travel fix it.

Travel has always been a way for me to see the world broader than just my issues. It allows me to realize how insignificant my issues actually are. It allows me to embrace the joy of being lucky enough to have the opportunity to travel. It allows me heal.

While in College, I had the opportunity to study abroad in Seville, Spain. As you probably recall from my other posts, this was hugely impactful and one of the best experiences of my life. I can single-handedly say that that trip changed me as a person and made me who I am today. It also allowed me a forum to escape a bit-- and that is the part I often don't talk about. Perhaps because the word "escape" seems weak. What I was escaping from was a serious and often times cruel illness that someone very close to me was fighting.  Before leaving for Seville, I remember feeling helpless and frustrated because no matter what I wanted to do there was nothing I could do to fix the medical problems this person was dealing with. How do you fix something that you have no control over? You can't. Then it hit me. Sometimes you just have to save yourself...so that you can be the best support possible for this person. And saving yourself isn't escape and it isn't weak.

Friends from my time in Seville

Back in the Day in Seville

During my time in Seville, I met wonderful friends, learned a beautiful language, ate amazingly new foods, and saw the world. It also allowed me to stop being consumed by the uncontrollable at home. It allowed me to embrace what I could control-- and that was making me as strong as possible. Travel did that for me because it redirected the energy to something positive. I remember coming home from that experience a changed woman and also a stronger one. Did the medical problem miraculously go away when I returned? No, it actually got worse. But, I came back more willing to deal with it and with a stronger fortitude. Perhaps focusing a bit on you, can make you stronger for others. Travel helps me with that.

Signs for "Star-Rated Toliets" puts life into perspective



Ouch!

I don't like to  make the blog personal, but tonight I had one of the worst moments of my life. I was hurt, betrayed, and overall saddened by two people (1 in particular) that I trusted and cared for.

I strive to always be a great person, who is kind, generous, and treat people the way I want to be treated. I will always Run for Travel to be that person. All I can do is control me and my actions in life and hope that others' poor choices are discovered either now or later.

What we notice and what we choose to walk (or run) away from

This weekend I did a lot of running...and thus, a lot of thinking. I do not use iPods and any unnecessary distraction when running. Why distract yourself just to "get through" the run? There is so much to see and experience if you just stop trying to distract yourself. Yet, this weekend, I realized something frightening about my own running: many times I'm so busy looking at the good things, that I ignore the bad things on my runs. Am I just opening myself up to seeing things I want to see while ignoring things too difficult to see? As sad as it is to say, I think I am. Especially, when it comes to homelessness.

I've always been very sensitive to people living on the streets...begging, sleeping, or in any way looking like their only option at that moment is to be somewhere that most of us would never be. I always immediately think about how this person got to this state. What happened in their life? Where is their family? Why are they alone on the streets? When I was a young kid and we'd go to Chicago to Shop or to see a Play, I would end up feeling sick to my stomach when I saw a homeless person...for days. I'd often not be able to sleep, just thinking about that person and what they were doing at the very moment I was sleeping (or trying to) in my warm bed. It made me feel so bad that I was "lucky" enough not to be like that or at least have a family that would never let that happen to me. As an adult, these same feelings run through my veins daily. I have images of my life and the homeless people I have seen--- the Indian woman  with her child who sat and begged me while I was sitted in a taxi and a 2 hour traffic jam in Mumbai (she didn't leave my car for 2 full hours), the homeless man who I have named "Joe" who is wearing the exact same jacket for 2 years straight and sits outside the bus stop 1 block from my house-- never begging, never looking high nor drunk, and lastly the African man James who lived near my Apartment in Seville and who would try to sell me travel-sized Kleenex everyday for 20 centimos in the same dirty clothing. I think my curse is that I have never been able to forget these people or their stories. Maybe it is because I think of them as people and not just things on the street.Although I think that is true, I think the true reason I remember so clearly is that because beyond the occassional $5 donation or giving them my leftovers from a restaurant I have done absolutely nothing to help. Nothing sustainable, nothing at all. Actions speak louder than words, as we know.

My inaction was no different today. Here I was running for 2 hours all around the city...plenty of time to see an incredibly amount.  I saw so much beauty and so much history...Jamaica Pond, Boston College, Museum of Fine Arts. Yet, I completely ran past some terrible things and just ignored them....homeless men (at least 5), a man mentally disabled begging on the street, and a couple people who looked like they have been on a bit too many chemical substances. Many people would ask me, "But, there really was nothing you could have done....you were running, you didn't even have a $1 and they may have been dangerous." Sure, that is true. But, why did I not even look at them in the eyes? Why did I just stare above their heads...like they weren't even worth focusing on? Why did I act like they weren't worthy of a smile or a nod of hello? A smile...that is something so small and something we all can do. I can only imagine how these people must not even feel like people anymore, because nobody treats them like people. Why am I contributing to the problem vs. trying to treat them like people?

So, sure I can't change the problem singlehandedly. But, what I can do is be more open to noticing the problem and treating them like people....even when running. No more ignoring. I am going to treat them like people with a kind smile or nod. It's a small act, but hopefully it will be the beginning of the end of me ignoring.

Always looking up and never what is in front of me on the street. 

When eating is the main event

The Reservation-- where it all begins

As I have started to venture into the world of Ultramarathoning, one main thing has struck me to be all together foreign, even more so than the idea of running 56 miles: The total replacement of the term eating/food/meals with the very sterile, very boring word “nutrition”. I cannot count the amount of times I’ve heard or read the statement “What is your nutrition plan?” or “Getting your nutrition right is critical” in the last 2 months. It is almost as if the world of endurance athletics has forgotten all together that no matter how useful food is to keep your body working for hours at a time, it is also fun. And, no matter what, I refuse to forget that. Therefore, I am starting a campaign to keep my love of meals and eating, even throughout the next several months of training. What better way of honoring great food and meals, than to remember a couple moments when eating was, really, the main event.

Florence, Italy. Parmigiano Romano + Fresh Honey
The perfect little Italy restaurant (Da Lucia) in the Trastevere area of Rome and the most amazing party in my mouth, ever. I ordered the whole thing and ate the whole thing. The best use of calories I can think of in a long time.

Licata, Sicily. La Madia. Menu Clasico
The most expensive meal I have ever paid for and probably ever will. Yet, worth every penny. A 4 hour dining experience at the 5-star Michelin “La Madia” in the very unexpecting town of Licata.

Mt. Etna, Sicily (near Taormina). Unnamed Café. “To Go” Coffee—Italian style.
Of course I knew better than to think Italians drank coffee to go, but after touring around all day and eating very little, I needed some coffee. Yet, we were headed up to a volcano, so I had to ask for it “to go”. After much confusion, the waiter finally spent the next 10 minutes making the perfect, incredibly secure “to go” coffee. Small plastic cup, tons of aluminum foil, and a perfectly secured sugar and stirring device right in the package ended up being the perfect “to go” coffee ever.