Sub-3 hours in Boston

per·sist·ence

pərˈsistəns/

noun

1. firm or obstinate continuance in a course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition.

In 2003 I read somewhere that only 1% of runners could run a sub 3 hour marathon. I immediately decided that I wanted to be part of that select group of runners. I had already put together a 1:25:50 half marathon, and figured that my addition to the ranks of sub-3 hour runners was a forgone conclusion - all I would have to do is sign up for my first marathon and run it. I signed up for for the Twin Cities Marathon that fall and began my training. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to stay healthy, and was injured and unable to run when race day came around. I watched from the sidelines on a crisp, sunny October day as my friends Kyle and Ryan ran the race.  It would be 6 years before I tried again.

In 2009 I lined up at the start lines of the IMT Des Moines Marathon. It was an October morning not unlike that of Twin Cities 6 years earlier, only a little colder. I stood on the start line feeling nervous, but ready. I ran on pace to break 3 hours all the way to the proverbial wall at mile 21, and then it all fell apart. I managed to hold it together well enough to cross the finish line in 3:09:45 (Qualifying me for Boston, before they tightened the standards). It was days before I would walk normally again.

I would run 5 more marathons in the next 6 years, ranging in time from 3:01:54 to 3:16:31. The faster times were heartbreaking, because I was getting so close to my goal. A P.R. of nearly 8 minutes can only be a disappointment when you are a mere 1:55 from your goal. The slower times were disappointing because I was not as fit as I should have been, usually from being injured at some point in the training leading up to the race. The frustration of those slower attempts came from the fact that I had essentially wasted another chance to reach my goal. 

On April 20th, I lined up at the start line of the Boston Marathon, my first major marathon. I had been training with Lee Troop since January, and I felt incredibly ready. I had done everything right to avoid injury, and Lee's training had me running like I've never run before. The training was different than anything I had ever done, and there were no days off in my schedule. The only days off I had between the beginning of the year and the race were a few days when I was sick. I was so confident in my training that the only moment of nervousness I had was about half an hour the evening before the race. I felt so ready that, when talking on the phone to Lee two days before the race, he asked how the weather was looking and I told him it was going to be cold and rainy, with a headwind. He asked what I thought about that (I assume to pump me up if I had any worries), and I said, "I guess I'll be getting wet." I think that mindset played a huge roll in how race day went. 

There were 5,000 people who had qualified with a time faster than my 3:03, so the race was a bit slow for the first six miles. That played exactly into my plan, as I knew my job was to hold back until the hills began at mile 16. It also helped with the conditions, since it did turn out to be a cold, rainy, windy day. Having people all around helped block the wind, and made it feel warmer. Although I felt great and wanted to go faster, I stayed on pace, and went through the first half in 1:29:40. At mile 16 the hills began. My plan was to go only as fast as I needed to up to that point, grind out the hills from miles 16 through 21 on pace, and then give it whatever I had for the last 5 miles. 

I had been running with a group of 3 guys and a girl for most of the race. I heard them say early on that they were shooting for sub-3 and Lee told me to find a group to run with, so I wouldn't waste mental energy checking my watch in the early miles. As we began the hills, one of the guys dropped off pretty quickly. After a few more miles, I noticed the pace was lagging whenever the hills would really kick up, and I made the decision to leave the group. I was able to run strong through the hills, not feeling particularly taxed at any point. With the hills behind me, and more downhill than uphill left in the race, I picked up the pace a little to get back a few of the seconds I lost from slowing a bit on the uphill miles. 

The field had thinned, and the cold and wind was much more of a factor at this point. Add that to the fact that it had been raining on and off the entire race, and it wasn't exactly perfect running weather. I was on pace through mile 23, but I had been here before, only to have my race fall apart in the last two miles (leaving me with my 3:01:54). With two miles to go, I wanted to pick up the pace and steal a few more seconds back, but as I tried to go even faster, it felt like my legs were beginning to cramp up. They had been through 24 miles of uphill and downhill running, and it was cold out. I decided to just maintain my pace, knowing I was going to go sub-3 hours if I could just hold it together.

I ran 6:49 pace for mile 25, and 6:43 pace for mile 26. I looked at my watch as I turned the corner onto Boylston street and, with the fuzzy brain of someone who is at the end of a marathon, I was suddenly worried I wasn't going to make it. I could see the finish line, and it was slightly downhill, but I was having a hard time judging the distance, and the seconds just kept adding up. I picked up the pace, running 6:09 pace for the final .2 miles and crossing the line in 2:59:16.

After 12 years of trying, I expected to be overwhelmed with emotion. But, because I felt so confident and Lee's training had prepared me so well that I never felt like I was working hard at any point in the race, my first thought crossing the line was that I could go faster. Given better weather, I could go faster. In a race where I'm not worried about falling apart the last few miles and missing my goal, I could go faster. I'm not saying it would be a huge difference, but on a perfect day, I think I could have run closer to 2:57 or 2:58. Sub-3 hours has been my one goal for so long, and I'm just barely satisfied. All I can think is, "What's next?"

I have no real desire to run a faster marathon. It's not a big deal to me whether my P.R. is 2:59 or 2:56. The next big mark would probably have to be 2:55 or 2:50, but that's a lot of work for a few minutes that, in the grand scheme of things, don't really matter. So I guess it's on to bigger (literally) and better things. I'd love to get that big belt buckle by running under 25 hours at the Leadville 100, and the silver medals for breaking 7:30 at the Comrades Marathon are pretty cool. So, it's back to training. My last post might have been when I did my first Ironman in 2010, and you probably won't hear from me again until I run Leadville.

Cheers!

Ironman

No football,rugby,soccer,or whatever player can touch him. 
He has become the ultimate endurance athlete. He is now an "Ironman"
                                          -from Urbandictionary.com


This blog begins, as most race blogs do, with a sleepless night the night before the race.  Of course, there was packing, the drive down, race packet pick up, etc., but those things are of little interest and should go without saying. I think I slept solidly for about 2.5 hours, before spending the hours between 1:30 and 4:00 tossing and turning.  At 4 I got up to eat about 700-800 calories so it would have time to digest before the start of the race.  I woke Emily up at 5 and soon we struck out into the dark to Lake Hefner.  It was a calm, warm morning, but for some reason getting ready in the dark always makes me feel cold.  


Pinks and oranges were just beginning to leak from the horizon as we entered the water.  I had nearly gotten sick before we left the hotel, but now I just wanted to get started.  The anticipation is always the worst - unless, of course, you have a bad race, then the bad race is the worst.  The water was was warm, and rusty from the red Oklahoma dirt.  We're staggered about the start line, but as the 2 minute warning is called, we become more cohesive and a line is formed.  The gun goes off, and the journey begins.


We quickly turned the quiet lake into a frothy mess, like a school of attacking piranha.  I was so distracted by getting hit by other swimmers, and so concentrated on looking for open water in which to swim, that we came to the first turn of the rectangular course before I knew it.  It spread out a little the second half and I finished the first loop in 42 minutes.  I was pretty much on target, so I set back in to a steady pace and tried not to think about the long day ahead.  Unfortunately, on the second half of the second loop, it became hard to concentrate, and I let my mind wander.  I stopped sighting for the buoys, and was just swimming away.  Then next thing I know, I look up and I'm nearly in the middle of the rectangle.  I'm sure this mistake cost me some time, but I'm not a fast swimmer, and it wasn't worth getting worked-up about.  I got back on course and finished the swim in about 1:30.  It was 10 minutes slower than I anticipated, but what's 10 minutes in a 12+ hour day?


I exited the water and, for the first time in my life, had the pleasure of being helped by wetsuit strippers.  Here's how it happens: upon exiting the water, you unzip  your wetsuit and free yourself from the top half.  You pull it down as low as you can around your waist as you are running up the swim finish chute.  Then, once you reach the wetsuit strippers, you lay on the ground and the yank the wetsuit off of you, pulling you partially off the ground in the process.


2.4 miles out of the way; I'm 1/3 of the way done?


I got my bike gear on, grabbed my bike, and headed out.  It was a 4 loop course of about 28 miles each.  Once we got out of town, it was mostly rolling hills through the countryside.  It reminded me a lot of Nebraska, actually. I was a bit surprised, because the website made it seem like it was going to be flatter, but there were no significant climbs, so I'd say it was a pretty easy course.  There were a couple stretches of a few miles each where the road was really rough, but other than that it was pretty smooth sailing.  With 112 miles and a marathon still ahead of me, I tried to remember to race smart and made sure I was taking it very easy the first lap.  I started in on my nutrition and made sure I was eating or drinking every 15 minutes.  By the end of the 2nd loop the wind had picked up a little bit and It was getting hard to make myself eat.  By the end of the 3rd loop, I didn't even want to go back out.  The wind stuck around and on the 4th loop it was starting to get hot.  It was also nearly impossible to make myself take in nutrition, but I forced myself because I knew that I might not get in anything other than liquids on the run.  I finished the bike in 6:30, about 30 minutes slower than I wanted to; I was tired and definitely could have been done for the day, but I knew there was still a lot of work to be done and I tried to stay in the game mentally.  


112 more miles out of the way; only a marathon left?


The marathon was another 4 loop course of about 6.5 miles each. I knew that if I started walking I would easily add 4-6 minutes per mile to my time and ruin a decent race; in fact, I planned my entire race around making sure that didn't happen.  I picked a steady pace and headed out on the run.  Immediately I was met by people walking - either heading out on their first lap or heading back in.  I was tired, sure, but I had high hopes of running the entire marathon, and I was going to try to run until I couldn't anymore.  I got through the first loop about 5 minutes faster than I thought I would, but during the 2nd loop was when everything started to hurt.  Pretty much everything from my bellybutton down hurt.  Also, my stomach was sloshing from all of the liquids, but it was hot and I was too scared of my body shutting down to stop drinking at the aid stations.  Every second that I spent walking through an aid station (to make sure I was getting down my fluids) felt like heaven.  It was amazing how much better it felt to walk than to run, but I was determined to keep going if I could. At this point, during the second and third loops, there were very few people actually running the marathon, so any time the spectators saw one of us they were genuinely impressed.  Their words of encouragement and exclamations of awe at the fact that some of us were actually still running the marathon we're quite inspiring.  


The sun was dragging a trail of purple and gold clouds with it as it began to set behind the lake at the start of my last loop.  At this point I had been so focused on parts all day, that all I could think about was that I was going to make it through the last loop and run the entire marathon.  The thought that I was going to finish an entire Ironman didn't even cross my mind.  I did, however, realize that I needed to pick up the pace a bit if I wanted to break twelve hours and 30 minutes.  Everything hurt, but I was able to go faster without much of an increase in effort - a sign that I had paced myself well and maybe even could have had a faster time had I known where that thin line was.  On the way back to the finish line I started replying to and high-fiving the spectators.  Finally I was having fun.  After three loops, I knew where all the turns were, and I knew I was running faster, but the finish line just didn't seem to be getting closer.  I came around the final turn, about half a mile from the finish, and I could hear the announcer calling out the name of a finisher.  As I got closer, I saw the clock and knew I was going to break 12:30.  I walked the last few feet of the finish chute, and raised a hand in victory.  


Such a huge weight was lifted off of my shoulders, and all I could think about way laying down and not getting back up.  It wasn't until a volunteer hung the medal around my neck and said, "Congratulations, Ironman," that it really hit me.  I just did an Ironman triathlon.  I sat down and drank some chocolate milk.  The volunteers kept asking me if I was ok and if I needed to go to the medical tent.  I guess it's a serious event when they continually ask you if you need to go to the med tent after you finish.  I really didn't know what I wanted - I wanted something to drink, something to eat, and to lay down and sleep all at the same time.  I knew I probably shouldn't keep sitting, so Emily helped me up and walked me to the tent to get my finisher's shirt.  I was pretty much a wreck at this point.  All of my muscles were stiff and sore.  My feet hurt and I was walking like someone who just got hit by a bus.  Emily helped me gather up my things and then brought the car around so I didn't have to walk to it.  She was out there all day too, and she was amazing.  I'm really glad she wanted to come with me.


When we got back to the hotel, all I wanted to do was lay down, but I was disgusting, so I manged to shower.  The shower drained slowly, and after I got done and all the water finally trickled down the drain, there were a number of small ribbons of salt snaking their way towards the drain.  It was ridiculous how much salt there was.  I was actually kind of impressed.  We got some food and went back to the hotel to get some rest.  I had just done a 12.5 hour race on only a few hours of sleep, but unfortunately I was so sore that I couldn't get comfortable.  I would spend the night tossing and turning, and only get a few hours of sleep for the second night in a row.  


Sunday I was a wooden doll whose hinge joints were rusty, but Monday I was starting to feel better.  Thanks to having the day off and my girlfriend getting me a massage, I was nearly moving normally again by Tuesday.  Honestly, it took a couple days to sink in, but I'm really proud of what I accomplished.  There were points during the race when I was sore and I knew that my body wasn't working right or digesting food that I thought that an Ironman is probably not something that anyone should ever do to their body, but I'm only a few days out and I'm already thinking about breaking 12 hours.


Frame of reference (140.6 miles):
Had I started the race in Lincoln and raced a straight distance, I could have raced to Kearney, NE; Manhattan, KS; St. Joseph, MO; or Sioux City, IA.


Awesome:
I had the 4th fastest marathon time


Not awesome:
My swim time was comically slow


Best part of the day:
Wetsuit strippers or being called an Ironman at the finish


Worst part of the day:
Forcing myself to eat at the end of the bike


Next crazy adventure:
www.canadiandeathrace.com?

RAGBRAI 2010

Saturday, July 24th, was a warm summer day, but not nearly as hot or humid as you might expect for Nebraska in July.  My wonderful girlfriend, Emily, drove me up to Omaha to meet up with my college buddy, Matt, and his friends from Kansas, who would be joining us for RAGBRAI.  Emily dropped me off at The Upstream and I met up with Matt.  Matt ate lunch and we killed some time walking around the old market as we waited for the guys from Kansas.  After a couple of hours they finally showed up.  They couldn't find a parking spot close to where we were, so they parked a few blocks away and Matt sent me ahead to screw with them.  I found them (Larry, Kyle, and Colin) milling about the car and took them for a ride, asking them if they were, "on some sort of racing team," and "if they had room in their car for me and my bike because I've always wanted to do RAGBRAI."  It was a magical first meeting.  They had a good laugh when I told them the truth and I knew they would be a good group of guys to spend RAGBRAI with.  We left  for Sioux City in two cars.

When we arrived we found a nice grassy knoll upon which to set up our tents and, once our campsite was established, we immediately started drinking.  We took a short break to check out the expo, where Matt and Colin (both bike mechanics), kept running into people working the tents that they knew.  We milled around for a bit, joked about missing the Smash Mouth concert, and headed back for more drinking until we called it a night.

RAGBRAI, for those of you who don't know, is a cycling event across Iowa.  It is the oldest, largest, and longest multi-day bicycle tour in the country.  There are about 15,000 people who do it and cyclists completely take over both lanes of the highway.  There is a start town and an end town each day, and in between we pass through little towns that are essentially shut down and turned into one big street festival.  The enormity of this event is nearly unfathomable and, unless you've done it before, there is no way to accurately describe it that would convey the true chaos of RAGBRAI.

This post has the potential for becoming excessively long, so I'm going to do the rest of the week like this...

Day 1:
Woke up too early (this was to be the theme for the week because insanely slow people get up at 5:00 to be obnoxious and get ready to start riding, since it's going to take them all day)
Beautiful weather
68.5 miles with 3,687 feet of climbing
Matt's drive day (one person had to drive each day to get our gear to the end town.  Matt rode a single speed, so he decided to drive the day with the most climbing)
Best thing that happened - found a party farm 5 miles from the end town with free beer and brats.  Also, free watermelon at one of the towns along the way.
Ended in Storm Lake.  That town is beautiful.

Day 2:
Woke up too early
Another beautiful day
100 miles with 1,416 feet of climbing
Colin's drive day since we were all doing the extra loop to make it a century ride and Colin thought that Idea was dumb.
Best thing that happened - stopped 10 miles from the end town and gorged on all-you-can-eat pasta and garlic bread (which was delicious), but then had too many beers and got WAY too full.  Also, was on the periphery of an accident and got stabbed in the Achilles tendon by my big chain ring.  Kyle and Larry were riding drunk the last 10 miles and were hilarious (and STILL way faster than us).

Day 3:
HOT AS HELL
59.9 miles with 1,068 feet of climbing
My drive day, since I figured I'd be sore from the longest ride of my life (I was right)
Best thing that happened - Went to the pool in the end town.  We all got sunburned and watched a (probably drunk) older lady with fake boobs have WAY too much fun

Day 4:
51.8 miles with 1,180 feet of climbing
Kyle's drive day
Best thing that happened - Stopped for Mr. Porkchop (delicious), took the wheels off of Colin's bike, and left while he was still in line for food.  "Really, guys?  Really?!"  It was priceless and would not be the only time his wheels got removed from his bike.

Day 5:
Larry's drive day
82 miles with 2,635 feet of climbing
Best thing that happened - I had a good ride and took some strong pulls (letting people draft off of you - at one time I had a train of 6-8 people following me.  I almost felt like a real cyclist for a second!)

Day 6:
Matt drives again (because he blew up the day before)
Rainy
Best thing that happened - being done with the ride.  The weather was crappy and I finally blew up and was unable to keep up with the guys.  We went to some crazy bars, I got Iced twice...about 30 seconds apart.  It was a good ending to a crap day.

Day 7:
I drive again since I blew up the day before
47.5 miles
2,591 feet of climb (I guess there were some killer hills on this day
Best thing that happened - being finished and saying goodbye to a new group of friends.  Matt and I stayed with Emily and her parents that night at their house near Des Moines.  We got to clean up in a real shower, ate a ton of awesome food, and I Iced Matt (finally).

RAGBRAI was twice as much cycling as I usually do in a week and 100 times more drinking than I usually do in a year.  We also had lots of, "fellowship," as Larry liked to call it, which was basically just us eating at a restaurant and hanging out.  Spending all of my time with these guys for an entire week sort of reminded me of being on tour, which was good; I miss that feeling.  There were plenty of other crazy and cool things that happened, but if you want to hear about them you'll have to drop by for a chat or give me a call.

2010 Season

Inspired by Barrett Brandon's new post on his 2010 season.  Mine isn't as epic, but it does have two half Iron-distance races 5 weeks apart.

March 13th - Leprechaun Chase 10k road race
April 17th - Novartis run 10k road race
June 5th - Dam to Dam 20k road race
June 20th - CSG sprint triathlon
July 17th - Lake Geode Olympic distance triathlon
August 22nd - Pigman half Iron-distance triathlon
September 25th - Redman half Iron-distance triathlon
November 20th - Living History Farms 7 mile XC race

And for anyone who only keeps up with my life via this blog...join Facebook (Barrett)!  ha HA!  Kidding.  Today I started my first "real" (salary, business casual, benefits) job today.  I fought the good fight  for 31 years, but I guess it's time to move on.

Also, I have a girlfriend and she's awesome.  REALLY awesome.  :)

2010 (01-01-10)

If I’m completely honest, I never thought I’d be updating from Europe, and I’m not just talking about this new year post, but any post in general.  Sure, I’d dreamed of living in a foreign country, but who hasn’t?  I always thought it was one of those things on my “bucket list” that would just always be there, as a quaint thought in the back of my mind.  It’s interesting to think about how completely unexpected nearly everything in my life has been.  If you had asked me when I was a senior in high school, I would have told you that I was going to go to college and then grad school to become a psychiatrist.  Instead I have an English degree (I didn’t love books then), spent 10 years running around the country and playing music with my best friends (I didn’t play bass then), became a triathlete (I couldn’t actually swim then and had never even heard of a triathlon), and moved to Europe (I had never even thought of living abroad and only very rarely thought of traveling).  There have been sacrifices--boy, have there been sacrifices--but I consider myself quite lucky.  So what’s the message here?  Don’t make plans?  All of life is an unexpected adventure?  I don’t know; I don’t have the answers.  I just think it’s amazing where my life has taken me and almost shudder to think how differently my life would have been had I skipped touring for grad school and rushed into a full time job.

2009 was a very turbulent year in the already crazy life I had created.  Maybe turbulent isn’t the right word, but a lot of big stuff happened.  I went on two tours and the stressful life of scraping-by and touring finally got the best of me, so I quit the band.  Maybe the decision is still too fresh, or it’s too early to tell in the grand scheme of things, but that might be the only decision I’ve ever made that I really regret.  I knew that if we couldn’t “make it,” at least to the point of being able to support ourselves, then it would have to end some day.  I know we had some small success, were able to tour the entire country multiple times, and sell records in Japan, so I should feel good about that, but there’s going to always be a part of me that wishes it could have gone on forever.  I ran my first marathon, which I trained for nearly all year.  I moved to Hungary, which has been hard, but good for me.

For whatever reason, I think 2010 is going to be a good year.  I’m actually looking forward to a little normalcy.  I’ll get to come home.  I’ll get to see my friends.  I might be able to get a really good job.  It would be nice to finally start digging myself out of debt, have health insurance, and be able to do little things like buy my family Christmas presents (which hasn’t happened for a number of years).  I’ll spend a lot of time swimming, biking, running, and reading.  I’ll probably train for another marathon and half Ironman (I hope to do my first Ironman in 2011).  I don’t usually get this way with the new year, but I feel like 2010 has a lot of potential, and I’m making plans to make it great so that it doesn’t pale in comparison to the last 10 years that I’ve spent having the best time in my life with my best friends.

Krakow (Photos)

Krakow (Part 2)

The alarm goes off at 9 and I’m probably still a little drunk.  We drag ourselves downstairs to eat the free breakfast, which is far better than any free hotel breakfast I’ve had in the states, and includes scrambled eggs and ham.  Unfortunately, we have to choke down our food because neither of us are feeling that great.  Now aware of where we actually are, we walk the few kilometers to the city center and find the bus station.  We buy tickets to the town of Oswiecim and get on the bus.  The trip takes about an hour and a half, and because of our crazy night and lack of sleep, neither one of us have a very comfortable ride.  I have the same initial experience with Auschwitz that I had when I went to the Alamo--I’m completely confused at how it exists in a town.  I always imagined it would be located in a barren field somewhere far from civilization, but there is a town living in the shadow of this monument to horror; there is a mall within walking distance from the gates.

There’s not much that I could tell you about this place that you’re not already aware of.  In addition, there’s no way to describe the gravity of that place--the way it has the ability to make your heart so heavy and pile more weight than you think you can handle upon your shoulder--so I won’t even try.  The one thing I noticed that I wasn’t expecting is that it isn’t ugly; the grass was green, there were birds singing in trees, the buildings don’t look terrifying (from the outside).  I had almost assumed that the things that happened there would have had a Chernobyl-type effect on the land.  Anyway, we walked around  and through the buildings, many of which have been turned into sort of a museum.  It was nearly 3:00 by the time we left, which meant we didn’t have time to go down the road to Birkenau.  I am told that it is even more gruesome, and that children under the age of 14 aren’t allowed to visit that site.  It’s probably a good thing that we couldn’t go, because I don’t know how much more either one of us could handle.

We’re pretty quiet the entire ride back to Krakow.  We get to town and go find a polish restaurant for some food.  It has a log cabin feel, with a stone hearth and blazing fire in the main room, as well as some delicious food.  Full and warm we walk back to our hotel to shower and nap again.  We head back into town and meet up with some more people from CouchSurfing.  Zenia, who is a first generation Pole from Chicago, and her friends Matt from London and Echo from China.  They take us to a techno dance club that is too loud.  JM and I don’t feel like drinking because of the last two nights, so we sip sodas.  Echo has some crazy stories, when you can hear her, but Zenia and Matt are more interested in making out.  We hang out until about midnight and then call it a night.

There are couple of inches of snow on the ground when we wake up.  Our free breakfast is delicious this time around, and we’re feeling pretty good about the trip, overall.  We get packed up, check out, and head back to the main market square.  We walk around for a little bit and then start making our way to the bus station, determined to get it right this time.  There’s a giant, four-story mall on the way, so we walk through.  It’s packed with people and looks like any other mall.  We get on the bus and watch two year old movies overdubbed in Hungarian, but with English subtitles.  After nearly eight hours on the bus, we finally make it back to the apartment.  The really strange thing about taking a trip from Budapest was that the whole time I kept thinking that when the trip was over I should be going home, but instead I knew that I would be going back to Budapest.  Still, it was a great trip.  Next up is Rome, tentatively planned for late February.

Krakow (Part 1)

The trip started out a wreck, as do most things that JM and I do together.  We got up at 4:30, after less than 5 hours of sleep, ate a quick breakfast, and headed out the door.  We walked to the metro, took the red line two stops, changed to the blue line, took the blue line 6 stops, and got off the metro.  The travel agent said we need to go to the bus station once we get off the metro at this stop, so we walk upstairs to look for the bus station.  The stairs open into a huge, bright building lined with benches--the bus station.  It’s surrounded by huge charter buses, so it looks like we’ll be riding in style.  Way too easy.  We look on the board and see our bus leaves at 6:15 instead of 6:00, so we sit down and close our eyes for a bit, since we’re about half an hour early.  The bus finally pulls up and we wait in line to get on.  As I walk onto the bus, I had my ticket to the driver, who is checking the tickets, and he says something in Hungarian.  “I’m sorry?” I say.  “Wrong bus line.  You want one by stadium,” he replies, and points across the street.  Dammit!  I step off the bus and we look across the street to see, what is probably our bus, driving away.  We go underground and across the street anyway.  We come up the stairs to a dark street corner.  The building that is the other “bus station” isn’t open.  It’s not lit.  There are no buses around.  We stand confused for a few minutes until another bus pulls up.  People suddenly pile out of cars and appear from the shadows, and board the bus.  We are now sure that we missed our bus.  We head back home and decide to straighten it out after a little more sleep.

When we get up JM calls the bus line, only to find out that there isn’t another bus going to Krakow for 3 days.  He walks about half a mile to the train station near our place and books us on the night train to Krakow.  We have a small lunch, nap a little, have dinner, and then, to prepare for the long train ride and to help wash the morning away, we kill a bottle of Johnnie Walker.  We get to the train station nearly an hour early (we’re not taking any chances) and the alcohol has definitely kicked in.  A homeless man hassles JM for a cigarette and some money.  Being drunk, JM isn’t in the mood for speaking Hungarian, so he replies in English.  We’re drunk, so for some reason we get a kick out of the pantomiming and five-or-so English words this guy knows.  Anytime he says a Hungarian word that reminds me of an English word, I start talking to him about it in English.  A girl standing near us can understand both sides of the conversation and can’t stop laughing.  JM gives the guy a cigarette and 300 forint, and we get on the train.  Already round two is getting off to a better start, or at least the alcohol makes it seem that way.  We chat with  the Aussies a couple doors down from us for a bit, and then settle into our little bunks.  I must say, a train isn’t a terrible way to travel overnight, if you get to lay down.  The bunks were actually more comfortable than my “bed” in Budapest, which says nothing about the comfort of the train and EVERYTHING about how uncomfortable my bed is.  We both sleep fitfully¾nodding off when the train is rolling and waking up when it jars to a stop at the stations.

We get to Krakow just after 6:30 in the morning.  We magically pick the right direction to walk from the train station and end up in the huge market square in the city center.  It’s an interesting and unique experience to be walking the streets of a new city as the sun is coming up, and before most of the people who actually live there are out and about.  We walk  around the square and window-shop.  We check out St. Mary’s Basilica, which is in one corner of the square.  We take a small side street away from the square and come to a big park.  We learn that the wide green space circles the entire city center, and is where the main wall used to stand.  We walk back into the center and find a little café that is open early (7:30.  Everything else opens at 9) and go in for cappuccino.  Warm and awake, we head back out to start taking everything in.  We hit up all the usual tourist stuff (the market square, the city center, the churches, the statues in the green space).  We find a little restaurant and eat brunch (potato pancakes and goulash).  We walk up the hill to see the castle and it’s church.  There’s a massive marble courtyard in the middle.  We walk down the hill to the Dragon’s Den.  We walk along the river.  I’m not going to go into much detail since I have pictures and this post is going to be massive already.

At this point it’s late enough in the afternoon that we can check into our hotel.  It’s only supposed to be 4 kilometers from the city center, so we decide to walk it.  JM has directions and after about 15 minutes of walking, we situate ourselves enough to head to the street we need.  We walk for about 45 minutes and end up where the Google directions sent us.  Unfortunately, our hotel is not there.  We ask around and most people just give us confused looks.  We sort of get directions from a guy who doesn’t speak any English.  He writes down a new street name, so we feel like we’re back on track.  We think he says that it’s just down the road about 800 meters.  We get there and not only is there no hotel, but the street that he has written down for us isn’t there either.  We walk around for a bit and still can’t figure it out.  We find another guy who roughly tells us that we have to take the bus, but we think we should be close and he doesn’t seem too sure about it, so we walk around some more.  We cover the entire neighborhood one more time before we ask another lady.  She doesn’t speak English at all, but gives us very specific directions to go straight two stoplights and then go right.  We walk in that direction and finally come to a part of town that looks like it might actually have a hotel.  We see a taxi, give up, and get in.  He drives us directly to our hotel…on the other side of the city center!  The directions Google maps gave us were at least 10-15 kilometers off.  After nearly 2 hours of walking, we’ve made it.

Finally at our hotel we spend a little time taking naps or showers.  We kill just a couple hours there before we head out to meet up with Ewa (Eva, for all you Americans).  We met her through CouchSurfing.com.  She seemed very nice, invited us to dinner at her place, and said we could hang out with her and her two friends who were in town.  We get there and she tells us to make ourselves at home.  Already the beautiful little apartment smells like delicious food.  We chat for just a few minutes before her other two friends show up; Andre from Romania, and Karolina who is from Krakow originally but lives in London.  We start in on one of the four bottles of wine (we all brought some) and jump right into the conversation.  Ewa is finishing preparing the meal, Karolina makes a salad and then makes birds out of the napkins for the table.  After dinner we finish off all the wine and catch the last tram to the Jewish district.  Ewa takes us to a bar, which I believe was called the Singer or Singers.  I don’t remember exactly,  but most of the tables were made out of old Singer sewing machines.  It was a cool little place and was pretty mellow when we got there.  They bought us hot beer, a shot of some special Polish drink that was absolutely toxic, hot honey wine, more hot beer…  By our second drinks (third if you include the shot, sixth or seventh if you include the wine), there was a drunk couple attempting to dance in the middle of the bar.  They were barely doing a good job of even standing up, but no one seemed to be bothered by them at all.  In fact, everyone there seemed to just be having a great time.  We had been drinking a lot and went from zero to drunk pretty quickly.  The next thing I know, most of the people in the bar are dancing, including our group.  At one point, Ewa and Karolina even end up dancing on a table.  Eventually we leave the bar but I think I left my camera so Andre and I go back in.  We search for a few minutes before I find it in my coat pocket.  We get back outside and, somehow end up in a cab, and then somehow end up at the hotel.  We stumble out, slurring goodbyes, drag ourselves into our hotel room and pass out at nearly 4am.

This is the second time in a few months that I’ve done drunk goodbyes, and I must say I hate it.  The same thing happened at my going away party.  I got drunk and stumbled out of there to walk home, just like I would at any other party.  None of the goodbyes were very heartfelt, and I even forgot a few people because they were passed out or I just didn’t remember they were there.  Same thing here, I didn’t get to fully express my gratitude and appreciation for the good time we were shown by these great people, and I regret that a little bit.

This thing is getting pretty long, so I guess the rest of it will have to wait for the next post.

Thermal Baths

Yesterday JM and I went to the Király Baths.  Here's a little history first: Hungary sits on one of the largest resources of geothermal water in the world.  Of the approximately 1300 thermal springs registered in Hungary, about 300 are used for "bathing" purposes and about 130 of those are located in Budapest.  The Turkish ruler of Buda started building the Király Baths in 1565 (which was finished in 1570), just inside what was then the Castle gates.  He wanted to make sure that, in the event of an invasion, the Turks could still bathe.  Some of these baths were only for men as recently as 2007, and even now there are only certain days when women are allowed to go.


OK, so here's the story:  JM and I decide to have a little relaxation before our trip to Krakow (a little relaxation before our relaxation?).  We went to the Király Baths, and as soon as you walk in you can smell the sulfur.  We paid at the front desk and went upstairs.  Once upstairs you walk into what is essentially a locker room that had sex with a dressing room.  The man at the door hands you a "towel" that much more resembles a thick bed sheet in size and thickness, and, what I can only refer to as a "junk apron."  This is essentially a thin white piece of cloth about the size of an unfolded napkin, with two very long strings attached at one end, which you use to tie it around your waist; it's a loincloth.  Oh, and it's white, so it's pretty much useless as soon as it's wet.  We were there on a mens only day, so the entire experience had a very locker room feel.  


Anyway, you go into one of the dressing rooms and change into your loincloth.  When you come out there is a guy with a bunch of keys.  There is one key in the door, which you use to lock the door and then tie to your loincloth, and then he uses a key to lock the other lock to the door and your stuff is safe.  We walk through the locker room, making sure to walk exactly side by side so we don't have to see each other's butts (we do still have to live together).  We head down a couple flights of spiral stairs, and the entire time the smell of sulfur (from the water) gets stronger.  Once at the bottom the air is so thick with it that it's like eating a sulfur/air sandwich.  There are showers at the bottom of the stairs, which you must use before you get in the baths.  You walk down a short hallway and it opens into a large domed room with a giant octagonal pool in the center.


We went in and sat on the second stair, which let the water come up to my neck.  The dome of the room is dotted with small circular windows in a concentric circular pattern.  There are a handful of other guys there, most of whom are older gentlemen, but a couple who looked about 40 and one other guy who looked to be in his late 20's.  There wasn't much talking going on, and what we did hear was mostly in low voices.  After just a short time in the main pool, I realized that the water wasn't really hot, but more like warm bathwater.  JM went to test out the other two smaller square pools, located around the edge of the main pool.  He dips a foot in the first one, turns around and shakes his head no.  He goes to the other one and gets in.


When he returns he says that the first one is cold, and the other one is very hot.  I venture over to the hot one.  After 10 minutes I come back to the main pool which, in contrast, feels cool now.  We sit for a little while longer before JM decides to check out the steam room.  This is when stuff gets weird.  While he is gone, two guys have gotten quite close.  One is laying face-up with his neck on the edge of the pool, almost floating.  This was the younger guy.  The other guy was at a weird angle to him and I was pretty sure there was some inappropriate touching going on, however, none of the other guys seemed to notice.  


Upon JM's return, my suspicions were confirmed.  Not only did he say he thought the two guys I saw were up to something fishy, but he said there was some questionable stuff going on in the steam room.  Of course, he said the steam room was crazy and I had to check it out.  We go in the steam room and it's amazing.  I've never been in one before, but it's just oppressively hot and humid.  After being in there for about 5 minutes I came to the realization that the water dripping off of my body  wasn't because I was just in the pool, but it was because I was sweating profusely.  We're in there for maybe 10 minutes before we leave again.


When we come back out, the main room has become a fondle-fest.  The two guys from before have moved to the other side of the pool and one is unabashedly fondling the other one.  There is a  group of three older men, two sitting against the side facing the middle of the pool, the other standing between them facing the edge of the pool; he's fondling both of them at the same time.  When one of them leaves, another  guy floats up to the other two and starts very gently stroking the face of one of the men, while positioning himself for some of the action.  I'm sure I was wide-eyed, because I wasn't expecting this.  Sure, I had steeled myself against seeing old, flabby men in nothing but a loincloth.  I had also steeled myself against the guy doing a weird naked spa workout, and sure enough, there was one.  I had not, however, expected blatant sex acts in the middle of a public bath.  There were only a couple of other guys in there who seemed to be caught off guard as well.  We decide to call it a day.


That was by far the craziest thing that has happened in Budapest.  While searching for the information in the first paragraph, I found many reviews of the baths, most of which had something or other about the Király Baths being "the gay one."  Now you know.  In two hours we leave for Krakow to explore a new city for a few days and meet up with some random internet people.  I'll be back in a few days with my blog on the trip.

Christmas Market

I had a pretty good weekend; I got a job offer, a phone call from my mom and grandma, and I finally made it to the Christmas market.  Yesterday I got a Christmas card from my grandma as well.  My family will be sad to hear about the job offer because it means that I can afford to stay here until June.  It will be nice to be able to afford to do a little traveling.  Krakow in a week, and (tentatively) Rome in February and Geneva in April.  However,  I just found out we're only a train ride from the area of Romania know as Transylvania.  That's right, just 500 kilometers from Dracula's castle.  I think that calls for a weekend trip for sure.  I mean, this is the real deal, not that "Twilight" B.S.  Anyway, it was nice to talk to mom and grandma.  It's difficult being away for the holidays, so it's nice to hear some familiar voices and get caught up with how the family is doing.

From what I understand, there are a couple of different Christmas markets in Budapest, but I went to one of the bigger ones at Vörösmarty tér. There are a bunch (50-75) of little log booths set up in a huge square in the middle of the shopping district. Some are serving foods, such as meats, vegetables, hot wine, baked goods, etc. It smells like a delicious version of the state fair. Others are selling various hand-made wares, such as dolls, wooden chess sets, metal ornaments and candle holders (made on-site by a real-life burly blacksmith), pottery, glassware, etc. It is quite a neat experience, but I can't help but feel that it's at least partially a show put on for tourists.

We finally got snow here today. To be fair, there were flurries the other day, but they didn't stick. Today we got maybe a quarter to half inch. By late afternoon it had mostly melted from the streets and sidewalks though. It's finally getting cold here (below zero degrees Celsius), but I'm getting conflicting stories on what to expect of the weather. Some people tell me that in recent years it hasn't snowed that much, others tell me that they've heard we're in for a lot more snow this winter. Weather here is a guessing game, just like anywhere else in the world. I guess some things never change. I don't start my job until the new year. 2010. I can hardly believe it. It seems so futuristic every time I say it. Anyway, JM and I will be visiting Krakow soon, so I should have some good stories and pictures from that trip. I hope that wherever this blog post finds you, you are well.


-E

Glimpses

Today I walked outside into the cool autumn air.  The sky was blue and there were thin wisps of clouds sailing by overhead.

There is a guy who lives on our floor by the stairs.  Occasionally he’s sitting on a chair outside his door, enjoying a cigarette and a cup of coffee.  We always exchange, “hallo’s.”  He never smiles.

There’s a gumball machine by the front door of the little corner store down the block from our apartment.  I’ve never seen anyone use it.

Sometimes when I’m walking through the city I try to guess if people speak English as their native language, just by looking at  them.

Being here has been difficult at times, but it has helped me straighten some things out in my head in a way in which I can’t quite explain.

The Christmas lights along Andrassy Utca are on now and it makes the city seem more warm and inviting.  It’s getting cold here, but it doesn’t feel like it.  Not having to deal with the wind makes the temperature deceiving.

The streets are narrow and I feel like I’m always in the shade.  That’s not a metaphor.

The lady in the apartment next to ours is listening to opera music and doing a fair job at singing along, although at a considerably lower octave.

The city is still not familiar to me, but I don’t feel lost here anymore.

I went to the National Theatre a couple days ago.  It was another wonderful day when I started out, but it seems to always get cloudy, and thus cold, in the early afternoon.  The sun sets by about 4 and leaves me longing for the drawn-out days of summer.  The weather has been mild, and it still doesn’t feel like winter yet.  I’m sure it’s coming.  I hear there’s a winter market set up somewhere in town, and I think I’ll go look for it sometime soon.  But I digress.  The National Theatre has some crazy architecture.  It looks almost as though the entire building is sitting on a boat in the water and the water spills over the edges.  The edges start by the building, as if it’s the base of a triangle, and meet at a point in front of the boat.  The cool thing about this is that the water just trickles over the edges near the building, but once you get to the point the water is rushing over the edge and roaring the small lion’s roar of a miniature waterfall  transplanted in the middle of this urban jungle.  They also kept a wall from the original theatre before they tore it down to build the new one, and it’s laying in the water next to the boat.  There are a few statues sporadically dotting the grassy landscape in front of the building as well.  Johnmark told me I should go check it out, and I’m glad I did.

Click here to see all the photos

Today I gave my first lesson to a student I picked up to tutor.  She’s a senior in high school and is applying to colleges in the US.  She speaks English pretty fluently, but mostly wants help with her written grammar and punctuation for her college application essays.  She’s cool, and the lesson went well.  I made six grand (in forint) for an hour and a half, and actually doing a little “work” left me feeling productive for the rest of the day.  I might get to tutor her mom as well, so things are definitely looking up on the job front.  JM and I decided to celebrate by getting groceries and eating crazy Hungarian food.  I tried some lo kolbasz (horse sausage).  Yeah, you read that right, horse sausage.  It tasted like…sausage.  Surprise!

Cheers!
-E

Chat

The other day I was talking to a friend online. I said I was, “hanging in there,” when asked how I was doing, and she asked why. When I explained my situation of not having a job because I got here too late and all the teaching positions were already filled, and that I am living on savings, she seemed concerned, but I told her I wasn’t too worried about it. That I was rolling with the punches. She called me crazy for not being worried, and I think she legitimately meant it. She told me not to spend my ticket money because that would be tragic. I confessed that I don’t actually have the money to buy a ticket home and that I’ll have to wait for my US tax return before I can come back. She replied with, “I hope you learned a lesson.” She logged off before I got a chance to ask her how she meant that or to reply to it. I think that statement makes a lot of assumptions about the state in which I’m living. I feel like the only mistake that I made was not securing a job instead of just interviews before I moved, but I‘m not even sure that was a mistake. I don’t think I’ve screwed up. I’m not stuck in Europe with no money and no way to get home. I’m not going to have to call home in a state of distress and ask my mom to bail me out and get me a ticket so I can come back. I have enough money to live on, although I do have to live frugally, but that’s something that I’m used to. I can’t come home immediately, but I will be able to return to the states and I’ll be able to do it by my own means. Life has no guarantees. Had I waited until I had a job, I’d still be in Nebraska and probably would have never lived in Europe. I’m not going to go home and regret this experience, even if I never get a job, have to go home earlier than expected, and use all of the money I have in the process. This is probably a once in a lifetime chance for me and, had I not jumped at the opportunity, I would have missed it. Oddly enough, instead of making me worried about my decision, it only reinforced it. It made me realize how lucky I am to have this opportunity, even if things aren’t going as planned because, what does go as planned, really?

Euro Thanksgiving

Thursday was Thanksgiving in America - here everything went on as usual. I decided to fill my day with a trip to Gellert Hill. I’m pretty sure the hill is one of the highest points in Budapest, and it’s famous for a couple of reasons, most notably the death of Saint Gerard. Saint Gerard was killed there by pagans during the great pagan rebellion, which I believe was in 1046. There are two versions of the story; one is that he was thrown down the hill and then, being found still alive, was beaten to death. The other version is that he was PLACED IN A BARREL WITH SPIKES AND ROLLED DOWN THE HILL! That’s awesome, in the crazy and disturbing sense of the word. Anyway, there’s a statue of him on the side of the hill. Another thing the Gellert Hill is famous for is the Liberty Statue on the top of the hill. The statue was placed there to commemorate the Soviet liberation of Hungary from the Nazis during WWII. The statue is still there, but the Russian soldiers were removed from the base of the statue after the Hungarians transitioned from Communist rule to a more Democratic form of government.

Gellert Hill is quite steep and is crisscrossed with trails - switchbacks that lead up to the statue on the side of the hill and eventually to the Liberty Statue on the top. You can go right up to the statue of Saint Gerard, but since it faces away from the hill towards the Danube, the view isn’t that much better once you’re there. In fact, the best view of the statue is probably from the Bridge in front of the statue. I trudged up to the top to see the Liberty Statue and get a great view of the city. I knew Budapest was big, but was surprised when I got a good look at the Buda side for the first time and realized how far it stretched out. Something that struck me as interesting is the fact that there are no skyscrapers in this big city. The tallest buildings here are probably about 10 stories tall. I guess when you don’t stack people on top of one another, a city must become sprawling by necessity. Anyway, it made me feel just a little smaller to realize that the city in which I now live is twice as big as I thought it was.

Saint Gerard

the Liberty Statue

View of the Buda side.

View of the Pest side,

Last night we had, “orphan Thanksgiving.” We got together with a small group of Americans who are currently either living or studying in Budapest, and we had a wonderful dinner. Everyone brought a dish (or two) and a bottle of wine. All of the food was delicious and I had a good time sitting around and chatting with everyone. I really am thankful for this experience - not only for the opportunity to be living in and experiencing Europe, but also for the experience of getting to have a “Thanksgiving” with some good people. The actual holiday passed with barely a notice but it wasn’t until sitting down to dinner last night that I realized that, even though the holiday snuck by me, it still managed to leave a small void that needed to be filled. The wonderful food and great conversations definitely did just that. I hope the same can be said for all of you. Take care of yourself and each other.

Cheers!

E

Simple and honest.

Thursday I found my way to the huge cemetery that’s about 2 kilometers from our place. I do not consider myself a photographer by any means, but everything about that day came together so perfectly that I could hardly take a bad picture. It’s a strange feeling to walk through a graveyard as a tourist - not being there to mourn or remember, but just simply to stand in awe of the sadness and the beauty of the gravestones and the breathtaking monuments. The sun rolled in and out from behind the clouds as the leaves shuffled and crinkled beneath my feet. Fall has dipped the leaves in reds and golds, and softly blanketed the ground and gravestones with the ones that were dry, leaving the ones that were still wet hanging out to dry. This, more than any other thing since I’ve been here, reminded me of home. The cemetery is enormous, and parts of it feel as though you’ve stepped out of the city and into the woods - with more trees and overgrowth than gravestones. Here are just a few of the pictures:

Friday I had a job interview. I had directions to where I was going, but somehow I missed a street and ended up getting a little lost. The big problem was that the street I was looking for didn’t go through to the other major streets and was only two blocks long before the name changed. I ended up pretty much walking in circles around the periphery of where I needed to be. I finally used my very limited Hungarian to ask a doorman if he spoke English and then asked him where the street was. I was nearly a half an hour late to the interview, but the guys were very understanding.

That night we went to the ballet at the Hungarian State Opera House with a huge group of people. We were in the cheap seats, which wouldn’t have been that bad if we had been in the center, but we were off to the side where we could only see about 70% of the stage. I don’t know enough about ballet to speak definitively, but it seemed pretty “modern.” It was quite interesting and beautiful, but the best part was that, even though we were in the highest seats, we were still close enough to see that the performers were breathing heavily. I think it’s impressive that they can make such precise movements look so fluid and easy when they are actually working that hard.

Today JM and I went to a friend’s house to help him film a video for an internet contest. He’s a great mandola player and we ended up recording a song for the video. Levi played mandola, JM played mandolin, and I played bass. The video is pretty funny but being able to play bass for a couple of hours was the best way to spend an afternoon. Playing felt like home - like waking up in my own bed and knowing my way around the streets. It felt like slipping on my favorite hoodie. It felt good.

On our way home we stopped a vegetarian Humus restaurant. I had a huge plate of…stuff. I’m not sure what most of it was, but I do know that I had falafel for the first time in my life and it was pretty delicious. Their humus was really good too and I’m pretty sure they make their own pita bread. Tasty.

Tomorrow I plan on going to Margit island if it’s nice out. If I’m lucky a lovely girl might take me to her gym during “family” hour so I can do a swim workout. I haven’t done a workout of any kind since the marathon a month ago. This may be a new record for me and, consequently, I’m going a little stir crazy. At this point I honestly don’t know if I’m more excited about being able to workout or about getting to go with this very sweet girl. There’s also a good chance that this won’t happen, so I’m trying not to get my hopes up.

JM and I are going to have dinner at the Café in The New York Palace on Tuesday. Fancy. Other than that, I don’t have any plans for this week. You can be sure that I’ll be reading and writing, as always. I should probably find some other cool stuff to explore in Budapest too. We really need to decide where we’re going on our trip next month. I think Oslo would be cool, but we might end up in Belgrade because it’s close. We’ll see. I’ll keep you up to speed.

Cheers!

-E