Anne Frank House

After searching for tickets a couple weeks before our trip and finding that there were 'No tickets available' to the Anne Frank House for the rest of April, but also after learning that more tickets regularly become available for the 'day of' or next couple days, I knew I might eventually find myself in a situation where I was frantically and/or obsessively reloading the ticket page to find tickets.

Yes, that day came when we were on the ferry from Harwich to the Hook of Holland. The wifi was just existent enough for me to see that more tickets became available for that day and the next 2 days, but so unbelievably slow that I was never able to purchase tickets. After 7 hours of trying, I almost gave up on the idea of getting them at all and decided I would just have to come back to Amsterdam.

It was really important to me to see this historical location.

2 days later, I was able to purchase 2 tickets for that evening from my phone while we were walking around Amsterdam. I was so relieved. I don't know....how can you enjoy all of Amsterdam without stopping to honor the horrific experience and incredible spirit of Anne Frank?

During what felt like a solid day of agony trying to get the tickets, I sort of stopped to think why this was so important to me. Memories of my childhood came flooding back.....to when I learned about Anne Frank, and built a model house with all the furniture for school. I don't know what grade it was; so many of the unimportant details are fuzzy. But some of the emotions I felt learning about her incredible experience definitely stuck with me. I have to say as an adult who has witnessed even more evil in the world since, her experience was no less tragic to think about or relive as I walked through the house. To be walking through the secret annex where they hid from evil for so many years was just so powerful.

My heart sank. Some tears fell. This was one of the quotes in the first room we walked through.

 "The time will come when we'll be people again....."

Incredible. Incredible that the Jews were in the situation that they were; that she recognized the injustice at her age, and that she believed in a better way of life & was brave enough to write about it. Writing can be so powerful, for the reader and, I would argue, even more so for the writer. As I went through the museum and learned about the role that writing played in her life, I could really relate.

Her father, after reading her diary (after her death)- 
"....and my conclusion is, as I had been in very very good terms with Anna, is that most parents don't know really, their children."

My heart broke for Anne and her father when I heard this. You can spill on to paper what you just can't put into words for even those closest people in your life. I know this.  

During the darkest times, she shared her deepest and darkest feelings in her diary, that she planned on eventually turning into a book. Writing kept her from going crazy, when all she wanted to do was sing and dance and enjoy the outdoors.  

The tulips are beautiful. The canals are gorgeous. The cheese is delicious. The trip was amazing. But Anne Frank really kept things in perspective.

Sometimes I feel like I'm participating in one big 3-year travel competition while living here. It's easy to start feeling like you "aren't doing enough" compared to others, because everyone's travels are always in your face, quite frankly. While we love to travel and would like to see as much as possible, I try to always be mindful of how fortunate we are to get to do the things we do and see the places we see. There will always be more. 'More' is not a good measuring stick.

Going through the Anne Frank House is just one of those experiences that makes you truly appreciate freedom & all of the joy we get to experience every day, no matter where we live or how much or little we travel. Just getting tickets for the experience made me feel more at ease for the rest of the trip and made me stop worrying about what we were going to see and do, because what could be more significant? I felt so fortunate just to be there.

Anne Frank, your spirit certainly lives on. You are amazing!

Altnernative modes of transportation

My cousin Jen sent this to me with perfect timing today. I thought I would post it as a follow-up to my broken car night catastrophe post.

My car is still pretty much broke. For all intents and purposes.

You know, that doesn't sound that bad. First world problem, correct? It doesn't explain me drowning myself in wine.

The thing is....the broken car was just the icing.

On the shit cake.

But this icing/breakdown...it has forced me to find alternate modes of...dealing with things. It has forced me to be vulnerable with pretty new but amazing friends. People who could think I'm crazy but have been nothing but kind and generous. It has forced me to lean on people when I've always thought I could get through everything on my own. It has forced me to ask for help.....*gasp*

It has forced me to take a leap of faith and believe a little. 

A Raw Post by a Military Spouse Expat

I cried on and off for several hours tonight.

Everything came to a boiling point today when my beater of a car finally said "Times up, SUCKER. I'm out. Deal with your issues." Or at least that is what has come of the situation. Husband gone/deployed/whatever/not here and complicated car issues. Apparently that was enough to just set me off. I've been stressed about all kinds of things, and frankly, a little bit lonely. And then the seventh thing went wrong with my car and that was it. It is not drivable. I'm just overwhelmed. Just one of those times when it feels like things are crumbling. And now it's me with my tears and a bottle or two of wine. Because this shit always just happens at the perfect time. I hate, hate asking for help or realizing I can't get through everything on my own.  

Don't worry. What my body is losing in tears, it's gaining in wine. This has to be a start to recovery. 

But really, tears are powerful. When you sob and let it all go, you just start to feel better and think more clearly. I let Teddy lick all the tears away, and then I went outside with (my awesome) pups and played with them for a while. Happy, happy, tail-wagging pups. And I'm sure that helped. And don't get me wrong, I have some amazing friends who have let me vent, vent, vent and it has helped tremendously.

But when you hit a low, you are forced to practice gratitude. Like you should do anyway. Maybe my car is just trying to get me back on track and make me remember what really matters. Not cars. 

Over the last few days, I packed up all of the Christmas decorations. But why pack these cards up?!?! They always sit out for a while and then I don't know what I do with them....display the photo cards and shove the other ones in a box. Tonight I looked at them and smiled. Well, they are all being hung up for a while. Just as a lil' reminder that people are thinking of us even if I don't always feel it. I'm not alone. I need to reach out to people who care and tell them what is going on, not put up walls. That is my fault. I'm imperfect and/but I'm enough. I'm enough to reach out and ask for help and to be imperfect. These people think I'm enough. 

That is the raw me. The raw version of me living far away from so many loved ones, doubting my worthiness and trying all the time to be a better wife, daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter, friend. Thank you to those who have stood by me and supported me. And thank you, Brene. I am halfway done with The Gifts of Imperfection and it is like my bible. You are brilliant. This is my pledge.

The Many Faces of 26.2

It's been just over a week since I completed the 2014 Dublin Marathon. That day, I thought to myself 'I have so much to write about...' And then as each day passed, I felt all the thoughts, emotions and lessons that would make a great race report and blog post start to fade. So I'm going to dig for all that and still try.

There are these people. And then there are these people. I am not sure if this post is for the people who have no idea why others train for long distances and may or may not care, the ones who think it's about bragging (like bitter 13.1 sticker man...sad, sad man), people who might be intrigued by how it can change you or for those people who know exactly what it's like. But I had a friend suggest I blog about this seemingly emotional event, so even if it's just for you and me, friend, I'm ok with that. I don't want to forget this one. 

In the 6 marathons I've registered for, I don't think I had ever registered for one 10 months before the event. WHY would I do that?? I later wondered. We had just moved to the UK and I was eager to get back to marathon training after over a year and apparently really EAGER to make that official. A marathon in Dublin? Nothing about that sounded like it could be bad.

And then my 10-month struggle to adjust to running on the local terrain began. Some of you already know, or have at least tried to understand my whining, about why I kind of stopped enjoying it. You don't really need to know the details....just that I hated it. I was the most out of shape I had been in....as long as I could remember, and I'm pretty sure my mindset was too negative from the beginning. Once I realized I did not have the perfect Kansas running conditions I was used to, I guess I decided it was my way or no way. This was going to suck.

I had ups and downs, periods when I felt motivated to get back on the training track before derailing again. Just hang on to whatever fitness I'd acquired so far, but not drastically improve my endurance and definitely not speed. And certainly not any kind of combination of the two.

I knew from all of my previous marathon training that this was not good. Up until this point, I had improved during every marathon. I had learned a lot training for each one, and then quite a bit during the race as well. In my opinion, for me personally, I had smoked the Marine Corps Marathon in October 2012. But I also knew how hard I had trained. And I was nowhere near that level this time. I told myself Just Do It, but it wasn't working. I basically just accepted my motivation problems but also felt bad. I was even letting my I Run 4 buddy, Kaden, down.

As the marathon approached, I was counting the days until it was over. That is no way to feel about a race that takes several hours. I was bummed I had to give up the BQ goal, and even more bummed I wasn't even sure about breaking 4 hours. For me personally, it felt like there was no reason to run another marathon unless I at least had the chance to improve my time. Shit happens on race day, but insufficient prep and training feels like failing. Hence, just wanting to get this whole experience over with.

But I'm also experienced enough as a runner (and maybe wise enough at 29) to realize that was not a good way to approach the whole thing. Things hadn't gone the way I wanted, but there were several things to focus on. I'm always thankful for my ability to run, and then to be able to travel to Ireland to participate in a marathon through a beautiful city? Heck yes. I even thought about walking it with a Camelbak of Guinness, but that really seemed like taking the easy way out.

The night before the race, I was lying in bed flipping through the program. I read through a section titled "20 Tips for the Road" by Conor O'Hagan. Number 19 read: Have a Plan B. There may come a point where you realize your target has slipped away from you....by having a secondary target - perhaps 30 minutes slower- you could keep the motivation you need to press on..."

I wasn't even sure what my target was at that point, so I knew I needed to be flexible no matter what I decided. Ultimately breaking 4 hours was still my goal, but when sharing my doubts with a friend before the race, he said "you'll at least break 4:30."

A little play-by-play:

Like an idiot, I started with the 3:50 pace group. I knew it was a stretch at the time, but looking back, it was actually....stupid. 4:00 would have been more reasonable, but now I know not to let the race day adrenaline get the best of me and override simple logic and numbers that make sense based on my training.

I started out at an 8:35 pace. Also not appropriate. I watched the 3:50 pacers run past me at I think mile 5 or 6. Plan B set in, because who was I kidding anyway?

Mentally, I was already telling myself to just keep a good pace through the half. Beat 2 hours and you're still a star!

False logic, really, if I wanted to be able to actually run the whole thing. Though I'm still not sure that if I had slowed down my pace then that I would have made it longer before walking/running. I knew what was missing in my training was time on my feet (running).

I pushed out the half in 1:59:34.

I broke down mentally. I texted during a race, for the first time ever. I told Dave I didn't know if I would finish....I never even thought that during my first marathon. My thoughts were toxic, but I was in pain and couldn't imagine running the rest or being on my feet for the time it would take to walk the rest. He sent me some love and I kept going.

At mile 15.17, I was walking. I was at a low, mostly mentally but obviously physically. A man ran up behind me, put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye and said "let's go." It broke my little freaking running heart. I don't know why. Don't get me wrong, the crowd was loud and there was a lot of support in general. But I had walked by a lot of spectators and a lot of people had run by me...this guy noticed. I don't know if he picked me or if he picked all the walkers but I felt the strong support of a fellow runner. I realized he knew my pain and knew I could overcome it.

I realized the power of running with others. If only I had gotten a training buddy for this marathon...most people do. I just enjoy running alone. Until I'm totally unmotivated, and then maybe it's not so good. Duh. 

I had to pee for several miles....that has never happened before (because I'm a sweat MACHINE) and threw me off as well. I waited 2 minutes for a port-a-john at mile 17 and after that decided it was time to get on with it. At 19 miles I saw my buddy again, walking. I realized it was him as I passed, turned and ran back to him and told him I remembered him. We exchanged some encouraging words.

I probably walked more than I needed to, but at that point I wasn't racing for a time, really. I was and I wasn't. I was doing a lot of thinking while I walked....a lot of reflecting about how this all made me feel.

I was not satisfied, but I was also not beating myself up. I realized I really, really missed the feeling I had during the Marine Corps Marathon. When I was in such good shape that I fully embraced all the pain, mentally and physically. I could push so hard during the race because I was prepared and I loved that. I almost passed out after because even though I had taken a lot of fuel during the race, I had obviously left everything I had out there. I thought a lot about how I missed running that hard and missed the good kind of pain.

I wasn't enjoying the unprepared kind of pain.

I'm convinced I would have kept hating running until I was disappointed in a race.

I guess I still need to figure out a way to enjoy training where I am, but I either figure that out or stop running marathons, and that is not what I want.

That is what I learned.   

I was fighting tears for a couple hours afterward. I don't know why I was fighting them, they were good. I felt alive again. 

When talking about the race with a friend a couple days later, and still comparing it to "my last marathon," he said "You were a different person then..."

How true is that? Are we ever the same people we were 2 years ago? Probably not. So I finished 32 minutes slower but learned a lot about my passions, how mentally tough (or not tough) I am, what I want to get out of my races, how to adjust goals and the value of fellow runners. I've always known the value of volunteers but I felt a new level of appreciation for them that day. Last time all I learned was that proper training pays off, and I already knew that ;-) And hey, at least I beat 4:30 according to my old running buddy's prediction. It's like he knows me.

I've had a 26.2 magnet for a few years now. It's on the side of my fridge & reminds me of the journeys I've taken to push my body's limits. It holds up my current training plans. I could put it on my car. It doesn't really matter. That's really all I have to say about the magnet. It's not about the magnets or the stickers. 

We take on these challenges to become stronger & learn more about ourselves. I wish everyone knew & appreciated the joy in finding something so challenging, painful and wonderful that makes you grow, so if you don't have something in your life that does for you, find it.  And don't ever give up, fellow runners. 

Optimistic, happy, sad, in pain, happy (again!), 
determined, exhausted, proud. 
When is the next marathon?

London, Baby!

So I always say 'London, Baby!' because of Joey on Friends. But apparently there is actually a site, the London Baby, for babies in London. While I'm here, providing my thoughts & info...there ya go.

After Ely, the place I've been to most in England/Europe is London. Why not actually start blogging about my experiences and start with the first place we visited when we moved here. Until I actually start a glamorous travel blog, I will catch up here. Travel week on the blog.

Ahhh, London. I think I'm in love. But can we just hook up on weekends? I like living in a small town.

I've now been 6 times and each time I got a little more comfortable. After the first trip, I knew not to hit a local commuter in the knee with your gigantic touristy suitcase when getting on the tube, even if it WAS an accident. *If looks could kill.* Hey, that's part of the deal when you're in a big city on the subway. So the next time, I was a little more calm, cool and collected. NBD. 

Since then, I've mostly observed that your time on the tube can be quite entertaining and most people are pretty nice. By the third or fourth trip, I knew that the Piccadilly line was my favorite line to ride, for the location of the stops but ALSO to hear "this is a Piccadilly line to Cockfosters." With the accent.  Even though I don't get it, I learned that "Gloucester" is actually pronounced "Glouster." I learned that at the expense of getting laughed at by the Ely train station ticket lady who couldn't figure out where I wanted to go until I finally spelled it. That is just an example of many words I don't know how to say. But with each trip, this huge city stopped feeling so huge. The tube is easy and there is SO much food to eat. And after 2 shows (Phantom of the Opera and The Commitments), I want to see them all.

Our second trip to London was about 5 months after we moved here, and even by then it sort of felt like home a little bit. You know me...I have many homes. But when I'm there, I kind of feel like I could be in any big city (except, of course, there is the unique AWESOMENESS of London). And that means I could be in the U.S. Or anywhere. Very international. But it felt less overwhelming than the first trip, and more like a camouflage blanket wrapped around me :) I didn't stand out as an American like in our little town of Ely. Don't get me wrong, plenty of love for Ely, but ya know sometimes just blending in without effort is nice, ha. 

Some favorite attractions/areas:
Churchill War Rooms: How is it not cool to check out a wartime bunker and the areas where people worked while bombs hit London above?

Westminster Abbey: Did you know that Sir Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin, Charles Dickens and C.S. Lewis are buried there? Among loads of other famous and/or cool people. 
 

Hyde Park: So much peaceful space. So much space to run!

 

Favorite food:
The variety of food in London is amazing! There are plenty of traditional pubs EVERYWHERE in England so when I find myself in London I tend to want to get my hands on some other stuff. However, we have eaten at a few pubs there and this one was great!

Buckingham Arms

Tortilla: Dave and I found this place on Trafalgar Square during our first trip to London. We were sort of scoping out Chipotle but getting all turned around even Rick Steves was not helping. Yelp pointed us in the right direction on this one and we've gone back twice since. Seriously made me forget about Chipotle.

California-style burrito and a Sierra Nevada. Cowabunga?!

La Polenteria: Narrowed in on this one while searching for Gluten-free options with a friend. Like Polenta? Yum. All I gotta say.

Honest Burger: Not sure what to say except....maybe my favorite burger ever. At least top 3.  And the rosemary salted chips. Couldn't stop, didn't stop.

Feast your eyes on that special.

Serpentine Bar & Kitchen:  People can get a pizza or burger anywhere, okay? They come to Serpentine for the ambiance :) Beautiful spot to eat high quality food in Hyde Park.

So there is my quick wrap of my mouth-watering feelings on London. Love walking around, love the vibe. Here is a collection of my touristy London photos thus far. This love affair...TBC.  

Can't forget Big Ben (fun fact: the tower is known as the Elizabeth Tower; Big Ben is the clock)
 

Happy Fourth of July!

Was reminiscing about the last several Fourth of July holidays. Our tradition of running & shooting guns, fireworks with our friends in Florida and Teddy always hiding from the fireworks for a week straight. Fortunately last year, cousin Huck was there to protect him, and I'm sure he won't miss the noise for the next 3 years, haha. Happy Fourth of July to everyone back in the States and abroad! We'll be spending the evening at our friend's BBQ with Americans...and Brits :)

These people already wrote my book. Running the Edge.

I love writing. And running is a huge part of who I am. So, I've naturally thought about writing a book about running. Because while I know that not everyone loves to run, deep down I believe that running can change most people. Including many people who believe or claim that "they can not run."

That statement frustrates me. It hits a nerve. 

I want to tell everyone that they can run. Anyone can run. Ironically, I am part of a program where I am matched with someone who really can't run. At least at this point in his life. He has a medical condition that limits his ability to run. I have faith that he will eventually grow strong enough to run, but for now I run for him. Many people have limitations that don't allow them to run. But if you are overall physically healthy and have the ability to move your legs at whatever pace you want, you can run. The pain of running does not mean that you can't run.

Well, before I go too far, it turns out there is already a book out there that is basically what I would write, and more, if I were to write a book about running. It's called "Running the Edge" by Adam Goucher and Tim Catalano. I am only about 1/4 of the way through this book but I think I've almost highlighted every word or quote in my Kindle. I find myself constantly yelling "YES!" out loud as I read it. Needless to say, I think you should add it to your reading list ;-) Of course I'm yelling 'YES!' because I can relate. But also because I want more people to experience the joy.

Without copying and pasting every quote I've highlighted in the book so far, really it's about the journey that running takes you and your body on, and how it affects the other stories of your life. Adam and Tim break those other stories down into education, career, family, friendships, and passions.

Yes it hurts like hell when you first start. I would say that is true for most runners. I've been running since 6th or 7th grade (translation/conversion- for about 16 years now), but it hurt in an un-enjoyable way basically until I was in college. Maybe that means I'm not the most naturally gifted runner or I didn't know how to accept the pain and push myself through those years, but I eventually got to the point where I felt freedom. A release as I ran. I knew my body and it felt natural to push it.  And ever since then, it's been getting better and better (of course, proper running form is important...I'm more than happy to help or answer any questions about that :). More enjoyable. Now, I can't imagine my life without it. And that is slightly terrifying. I don't take my health or legs for granted. 

But it did take me years. And that is why I get so 'frustrated' when people say they can't run. You can. You can go through the pain like so many of us have. And you will experience euphoria if you just stick with it. That doesn't mean you want to, but that is a different issue. Do not say you can't. Running is as natural an activity as....walking. Except the challenge of it gives you so much more.

"...after your runs, as you count the new blisters on your feet, you feel as if you've been hit by a truck. The conventional wisdom that running is not fun seems truer than ever. "How can people do this for fun?" begs a painfully obvious answer. They can't! But if you continue to run and resist all common sense and logic to quit, one day, something magical happens. One day, while on a run, you notice that running does not hurt. Not only does it not hurt, but it feels natural and easy. Your legs feel powerful and strong. Your breath, heartbeat, and muscles have found a rhythm and harmony working together in perfect balance. You get a sense that this is what humans were meant to do, and you feel a connection to your primitive ancestors, as if you have discovered what you were always meant to be."

That is what this book is about. Oh I love it. That is exactly what I felt. About 5 years after I started running.  

"Runners are not being chased: They are chasing. They are chasing faster times, longer distances, and a blissful peace of mind. They line up in the same place and pay money to chase finish lines anywhere between one and one hundred miles away. Runners are in constant pursuit of personal goals, trying to discover their maximum potential. Running is an active crusade of self improvement. As runners carve away layer after layer of the unnecessary and replace them with the essential, they know for certain that they are not running away from anything. They are chasing who they can become."  - Running the Edge

This book is interactive and I've started my own workbook. It's about reflecting on your strengths and weaknesses and becoming a better you, through running, or your personal-interest life story.

You can run. And it will be awesome. I promise. 

Rowing Regatta Rookies

regatta

rɪˈgatə/

noun

noun: regatta; plural noun: regattas

1. a sporting event consisting of a series of boat or yacht races 
   
   (per Google)
   
   
   I asked some of my teammates if they knew what "regatta" actually meant as we were standing around waiting to race at our first "regatta." Does it mean "race?" No one knew. We are so new. 
   
   Eventually we will know what we are doing, but for this regatta (held in St. Ives), me and my fellow "Learn to Row" teammates entered into an "Explore Rowing" event held at lunchtime. We gathered....it's basically intended to be lunchtime entertainment for the real rowers. 
   
   Our coach Teresa told us about 4 weeks ago that we had our first "race" on 21 June. We all laughed.....doesn't the course end 7 June? :) It was far enough away that I ignored the fact that I was still trying to stroke and not fall out of the boat at the same time. 
   
   So Saturday rolled around. Beautiful sunny day on the river. None of us has been in a quad. None of us had rowed together. Not once. But our names were drawn out of a hat to create 2 teams of 4, and we got in the boat when they called us up and we rowed. Regardless of what happened in the water, it was warm, sunny, fun and there was really good food and drink available. It was fun hanging out with each other outside of Saturday practice & observing the rowing community in action.
   
   Our competition was clearly not as "new," being fairly coordinated and having matching uniforms (too legit). So, we did not win. But we rowed for 200 meters, together, and didn't capsize.  We weren't THAT far behind, and they showed excellent sportsmanship as we crossed the finish line as they hooted and hollered at us. 
   
   Now that the class is over and we are all joining the club for the rest of the season, I'm looking forward to actually working on communication in the boat and coordinating strokes. It was obvious to most of us that was lacking going into the race, but we went with it and were good sports. The competitive edge will come. And more regattas! Now that I know what that means. It means rowing, fun, good people and maybe a beer and good sausage (not a Bratwurst...Bratwurst is German, Dave was told when he ordered for me). 
   
   
   

   

   Click to Enlarge. We're still super tiny. 

   
   

   
   

   Photo & food delivery credits: Dave!
   

Pure Michigan vs. Ely. There is room for both.

We've been in England for 6 months now. It is our new home. Current home? I don't know. What does home mean? :)

Several weeks ago in the midst of Spring, while some Summer temps started creeping in, I was walking to the grocery store in the evening and got a whiff of burning wood....like a campfire....where?! Where is it coming from?! Waves of sadness and nostalgia for Pure Michigan came over me...I swear I almost shed a tear.

For the most part, there is just too much to enjoy here to worry about not being there. But you can't escape the feelings that a campfire brings to the surface :) 

When I first wrote about our new home, we were definitely still the new Americans in town. We were sort of recognized at some of the places we frequented, but overall....I still felt like as much as I wanted to experience it, I just as badly wanted to get in and get out of places before I stood out too much. Before they knew!

But everyone is just so friendly here, that I started feeling more comfortable dropping the anxiety that my American accent gave me. When they realize you are an American (*gasp*), they just want to talk, hear your stories and welcome you. I have to say I love living in the country of our closest allies....where we have plenty of similarities and differences to discuss.

I decided to be more talkative and engage more in conversation when I was out and about. And what happened next was.....well, I turned into a Chatty Cathy. 

One particularly epic day, I chatted with the owner of the local chocolate shop about her haircut. I went back later that day and bought some marzipan and chocolate so I wasn't just known as the girl who used her for haircut advice :) I chatted with the gentleman at Mountain Hardware.....just about the weather, but still. And I really chatted up the ladies at the new delicatessen in town about cheese recommendations and all of their tasty-looking products. It was so much more fun being socially normal :)  The next day I talked to the kid working the checkout at Sainsbury's (my grocery store....that I'm in basically every day) about his studies at Cambridge & his Easter holiday.  I had no shame in asking him to help me out when he started using educational terms foreign to me....help out the American, I don't know what you're talking about. 

One day, I left my keys in the door...outside. They had been there a few hours before a nice lady knocked on the door and told me....I know, I'm lucky. But at the same time, I'm not surprised. We feel like we live in a very safe place. A couple weeks later, I was walking down the street back home and had the opportunity to inform someone about THEIR keys in the door.

This all probably sounds silly and miniscule. But, as each day and each week passed, I felt more and more at home.

By the time we were showing all of our visitors our favorite places to eat and drink in town in May, it felt so nice that we were known and greeted with such a friendly welcome everywhere we went. I've never felt such a strong sense of community anywhere I've lived (ok except maybe specifically on Zachary Dr. in Kansas:). I'm already sad for when we leave. 

A little over a week ago, we were at Peacock's  (the local "famous" tearoom across the street) with Dave's Mom and Step dad. As our normal server, who is from France, was inquiring about where they are from in the states, we learned that he really wants to visit Detroit. Yes, you read correctly.  A guy from France who lives in the UK really wants to visit Detroit. He is into photography, and has an interest in capturing the state of a place that is desperately holding onto its roots and trying to recover. He is interested in capturing the beauty of the Motor City. It's A Small World started playing in my head. I was very fascinated with his fascination and found it refreshing that he saw more than what the media portrays. It made me wonder what people over here see/hear about Detroit, and what made him seek out the deeper story. More to talk about next time. I have nothing but fond memories of visiting Detroit as a child, adolescent and adult...Tigers games, Red Wings games (um, also, Stanley Cup parades), Greektown, shows at the Fox Theater, the 4th of July fireworks, SEVERAL auto shows with my family...but can't say I always have the patience or willpower to defend it against people who only see one side of things: its current state, without looking at any of the history about why it was so important to the U.S. and what went wrong. It inspired me to watch the Anthony Bourdain Parts Unknown Detroit episode again.

So, here is my opportunity to tell you that the full episode is on Netflix and you should watch it, without shoving it in your face.  It doesn't go into the corruption of leadership over the years, but that is nicely summarized in plenty of articles on the web.

Here is a preview.

So, 2 of my many worlds collided that day.  I have several experiences and travels to write about since we've been here, but I guess I first had to mention the French guy who wants to visit Detroit.

This week, I also have my last 2 of 10 sessions for my Learn to Row course with the Isle of Ely Rowing Club.  It has been an awesome experience learning the sport, getting to know the locals who run the club and meeting other new rowers. I can't wait to join the club and look forward to Saturdays on the water. Fun fact: The first recorded races at the University of Cambridge were in 1827. The Detroit Boat Club was founded in 1839 and is the oldest continuously-operated rowing club in the U.S. Just a little something I learned while reading about the history of rowing. 

One of the many beautiful Saturdays I've had for rowing on the River Great Ouse

Last week, I realized that I now have little fear of the roads and the roundabouts. I decided at that point that it's official. I'm totally integrated. Home is on the left side of the road for now.

However, my mate who is from England just recently corrected me.....it's Beans ON Toast, not Beans and Toast. What is beans on toast, you ask? It's a British thing (or English thing?), and it's amazing, and it's exactly what it sounds like....I make sure to include mature British cheddar.  Wikipedia tells me it is also a British folk singer who sings about sex, drugs and politics. I still have so much to learn, but I'm proud to add Ely to my list of homes. 

It doesn't look like much....I know. Trust.

You have to use these beans.

I Have to Get Lost

I thought about the days I had handed over to a bottle... the nights I can't remember... the mornings I slept thru... all the time spent running from myself.

– Mitch Albom (For One More Day)

Saw this post/caption on my FB feed early this morning. I follow a lot of running-related FB pages so they are always in my face. Sometimes they inspire me, sometimes I disagree with them...but they always make me think.

When I'm out running, I like to get lost. 

Not geographically, but in my own thoughts. I do like the feeling of running, because it makes me love the feeling of living.

I have struggled with my running a little since we've gotten to the UK. 

If I take the 15 mile cracked-up, uneven bike trail toward Cambridge (which in theory sounds like the perfect way to get miles in along the river) and all I'm focused on is not rolling my ankle and how much my knee will hurt later, I can't get lost. 

If I'm running through the small, quaint streets of Ely and constantly trying not to get hit by a car at every driveway and hidden turn, and I'm just focusing on survival, I can't get lost. 

How do people run here?  They don't even have a track to fall back on...makes me realize how fortunate I was growing up where I did in the states with a track available to use at the middle school, the high school, multiple at U of M and every city I lived in after.

I'm not complaining. There are just unique challenges here. The man at the butcher shop understands. We somehow got on the topic of running the first time I went in a couple weeks ago. He lives in a village/town about 7 miles away and runs on the roads there; he acknowledged its difficult to run here. Thank you!  I was thinking "ahhh, country roads. I miss those Kansas country roads..." He remembered me when I went back in yesterday and asked me how my running is going. I told him about the same.....struggling to get in the groove. I have explored a few new places but not found the openness I need. And then I asked him if running on the roads is common here, or the norm (novel idea-ask a local). It's not that I hadn't thought about going outside of Ely and hopping on the road, but I guess I just wasn't sure "how things work here." He reassured me that it was, so I guess it's time to buy a bright orange reflective running suit and try it out :) I think part of my hesitation is that there is usually not a ginormous shoulder next to the roads here....just nothing or, even better, a deep ditch. So back home I was usually ok with risking an occasional clueless driver because I could just dive, but now.....

Numerous people have pointed out there is a running club, which I knew about quite a while ago because I'm always curious about what kind of running community there is in a city or town.
I thought about joining, but considering that I love to run alone for the most part, I haven't checked it out yet. Wasn't sure about showing up, using them for their information/running routes and then never showing up again. I guess since the butcher understands my runner problems, there is always him, ha! We ran into one of Dave's friends last weekend at a market in another town and he was also commiserating with my trouble getting into the groove...the groove is critical to the run.  

The scenery here is beautiful. The butcher (really, I should ask him his name before its months down the road and I'm still calling him 'the butcher') told me about another area along the river yesterday that I am going to explore tomorrow.  Not super close, but it sounds like a scenic area where I can log some good miles. 

When I run, I think about life. I listen to my heart. Heart rate, but also what its saying. I have ups and downs physically and mentally and I push through boundaries. I clear my head.

It can't be about cars. Or rolling my ankle. Or running into people. So yes, I'm kind of particular about my running.

In Kansas, I was able to throw on my shoes, run out the door and disappear into the countryside within minutes. Of course those roads got kind of old after 4.5 years, which is why it's fun to move :) I miss them, but I will find my roads here.   

My shoes are waiting for me to get my groove back. They are waiting for me to get lost.