A long weekend to remember (part 1)

It is such a paradigm shift to realize that taking a short one hour flight from London can put you in a new country, new culture, and line up so many new adventures. Back in New York, a one hour flight can get me close to North Carolina...and while some may point out that it is very different between the two places, they also still have to acknowledge it is within the United States!

Last weekend, we had four days off for Easter. First of all, HOW awesome! Second of all, you know I had to take full advantage of it! Luckily, I had something planned this time around and hopped down to the French Riviera and met up with Stephanie as well as her group of Cambridge MBA friends as we skipped along the coast starting out from Marseilles, then to St. Tropez, Cannes, and Nice.

For whatever reason, the group decided to rent a van and drive the route instead of taking the train. This seemed like a very logical choice until we realized that a 'van' in Europe is not the same in size as a van back home. This thing was no bigger than a small SUV and we had to pile seven people as well as all their luggage in. I'll be honest, I did NOT have faith that it could be done but I guess that is why we had the group of smart MBA students to come up with a creative luggage stacking solution.

On top of that, I did not realize that there were only a few quasi-qualified drivers in the group. One guy could only drive automatic so he was out of the running; another guy didn't have a license at all; one girl couldn't drive manual at all; one couple could drive but they haven't driven in a long time; Stephanie could SORT of drive stick but hadn't in eight years; I hadn't driven a manual car since I moved to New York; NONE of us felt very comfortable driving in a new country where we couldn't even read the road signs. Can you see where this story is headed?!

I drew the first straw to drive in Marseilles...let me set up the scene for you so you can better appreciate it: it was very overcast, raining off-and-on, not great visibility, and the radio in our clown car is set to a random French talk show. I'm trying to pull the car out of the rental garage and onto a main street laden with traffic. I can already feel my left leg tremble slightly due to fear that I won't remember how to work the clutch as well as everyone in the car watching my every move. Cars are lined up behind me as I start to roll out and then WAAAH WAHHH WAHHH I stall. 'Oh no', I think, as I quickly restart, only to have it happen again, then again. By now, the cars behind me are honking and for anyone who still remembers learning to drive stick, this adds to the tension! After what seemed like a minute of stalling (but really was probably only ten seconds), one of the people ask, are you sure you are in first gear? I check...and whoops, I was trying to start the thing in third! Despite this, I still drove the first leg...

Just so you know, I was fine driving stick after this small boo boo.

Fast forward to Cannes on Sunday night, and we arrive at the hotel a little bit late since we were hanging out in St.Tropez and Ramatuelle earlier in the day. We're looking for a place to eat and then go out and given a recommendation to go to a lounge / restaurant called Baoli by the front desk. Upon arrival, it looks much more like a club with neon pink lights everywhere! However, this isn't the important part of the story. What I remember the MOST and still cringe about is this couple who sat near us for dinner. I didn't notice it at first but someone pointed out that the two did not talk...at all. I thought surely that couldn't be the case and then started to pay attention. I'll be damned, but they REALLY did not talk at all. The man sat with his head on a swivel and looked left periodically, then right, then left, then right...passing over what we'll call his 'date'. The woman stared blankly ahead, and for a little while even interjected herself into a conversation at the adjacent table. However, the entire time, they didn't talk! I've never seen anything like it and almost wanted to walk near them and pretend to trip and fall JUST so it would help jump start their conversation. I'm not trying to pat my own back on this, but I've never been on a date where it was THAT awkward. Yes, sometimes there are brief moments when you don't have anything to say, or the conversation is a bit dry and both people start eating faster just so they can end the date sooner, but this was a whole new level. It made me wonder, what if I become that man in x number of years, sitting across someone that I absolutely have nothing to say to. Sad, eh? Anyways, to top it off, this couple was seated when we arrived, and remained sitting there when we were finished dinner and left! This confuses me because if it were such a bad date, you'd think they would want to just get it over with and leave? Maybe I am wrong and they were having a great time?! Who knows.

Now, fast forward to Nice on Tuesday. The group is taking off to Monaco but I stay in Nice because I have a flight back to London later that same night. I've got about four hours to kill before I need to head towards the airport and for 30 minutes or so I shop around. This quickly gets boring since I can't buy anything due tiny bag I brought for the weekend (ie. just a messenger bag stuffed to the brim with dirty clothes now). From there, I slowly wander down to the rocky beach to just sit and relax for a few before deciding what to do next. A few minutes turns into a few hours, and I find myself lodged firmly on the rocks, just looking out at the sea, listening as the water crashes against the shore, and thoroughly enjoying the moment. Like I said before, it was a moment to just stop and smell the roses! Oh, and see old topless women who don't have a care in the world. I hope you get a visual of that so you have to suffer just like I did.

Overall, what a great trip though! I met some new friends, ate some fantastic food (and in excess quantities), and laughed quite a few laughs.

I'll give the part 2 update on my long weekend travels after I get back from sailing in Croatia this weekend. Life is good.

Inspiration comes in so many different shapes and sizes

What inspires you to _____? Fill in the blank. Why do you put in the hard work that no one will ever see, punish your mind and / or body, cope with all the mental and physical pain that comes along the way?

Today, I had the fortunes to volunteer at the finish line of the 2011 London Marathon. Many of you know that I had run my first marathon last October in Athens, Greece, and many of you hear me talking about future races I want to take part in. However, I've never actually watched a marathon before as a spectator. Needless to say, if you've ever had an itch to run marathon but are on the edge whether you can run that far, do yourself a favor and go watch one in person. You will be brought to tears, and if you don't get inspired, you are a cold cold emotionless robot! I was so blown away today by the thirty six thousand plus nameless athletes, only identifiable by a bib number, coming across the finish line. You can easily read about or hear the stories of the elite runners, and don't get me wrong, they are super heroes running at sub five minute mile paces (for comparison, I ran the 5th Ave Mile challenge last year and completed it in 5:26 and almost died at the finish line while the elite men and women all maintain a faster pace for 26.2 miles), however, I was truly inspired by the regular folks who tossed and turned sleeplessly in bed last night counting down the hours remaining and counting up all the training runs, those who got up and rode the tube to the start line at the break of dawn, and those who nervously waited in their corrals while everyone inched forward waiting for their chance to start the run.

I cannot tell you the number of times I saw runners collapse within 200m of the finish line...their bodies physically giving out under all the duress, but whose minds, will power, and determination begged their bodies to cooperate, if only just for a few more steps before collapsing again. The crowds honed in as well and would erupt in cheers as they encouraged these nameless runners (who they would never meet) to push forward. Often times, the staff would be forced to make their way onto the course and provide a shoulder for the runner to lean on through the last few hundred steps before the finish. These runners were amazing. I did not see anyone give up...as a matter of fact, as I watched these people, I noticed the singular focus in their eyes as they locked onto the finish line and shakingly put their left foot in front of their right, then their right in front of their left. Today, they were not going to be refused the title of 'champion'.

As I watched runner after runner coming through the last turn, seeing the '200 meters to go' sign, I wondered what inspired each and every one of them? Why were they out there today pounding concrete, giving it their all?

I will never know the answers exactly, but by watching them, I have come away with a new found inspiration why it is that I plead with my legs and lungs to just let me run to the next light pole ahead, and then to the following one, and then just a bit further after that.

Whatever goals you set, find what it is that inspires you to want to do it in the first place. When the going gets tough, let this inspiration carry you. It won't fail. Best of luck to you!

PS - as I wrote this, I ate an ice cream sandwich and half a bag of chips...YUM. Gulp.

What not to eat before going on a run

I have learned two valuable lessons today that I'd like to share so that no one else has to endure the pain I suffered.

Lesson 1 - Eating cheesecake is great, but eating cheesecake before going on a long run makes your stomach want to quit its day job

Lesson 2 - Kettle cooked chips are delicious, but again, not before a run. Tasting these chips time and time again as you burp and ALMOST vomit on yourself does not make for a fun time.

With that said, I had an amazing run today. I didn't run that far, nor did I run very fast (due to the two lessons learned above), but it was gorgeous weather outside today and it would've been a crime not to go get some miles in along the River Thames. Normally I would run a loop so that I can end roughly where I start...this ensures I can get back to my place and can eat some food and shower right away (okay fine, I admit that sometimes I just sit around for an hour before showering because I get an extreme case of laziness) so that the sweat doesn't cake on my skin and make me look like a salt mine. However, as I started my run today, I thought, 'lets just see how far I can go, and what sights I can take in along the way'! It was almost like a 2-for-1 deal...I'd get some exercise and as a side benefit, I'd get to do some sight seeing! For anyone who knows me, you know how I'm a complete sucker for deals.

So what did I see? From what I know, I passed by Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, Tate Modern, The Globe Theater, and the Millennium Bridge. I really wanted to make it to Tower Bridge, but my weak sauce legs prevented me from going that far. Sad. Maybe next time!

The big thing I didn't plan for was how I'd get back. I also forgot how much longer it takes to cover the same distance walking versus running! 'No worries', I thought, 'its a beautiful day out there and I'll slowly just backtrack...

Two and a half hours later, (looking like a man who just crossed the Sahara desert), I finally crawled back to my place...ravenous with hunger and thirst.

Ohh, lesson #3 - carry some money when you go out running, just in case you decide to not run in a loop, you still have the ability to buy something to drink or eat!

I distinctly remember two moments where I almost caved in. The first was when I was walking across a bridge and saw a quarter of a soft pretzel that must've been dropped or discarded earlier in the day. I won't lie, I looked behind me to see if there was anyone within range that would see me pick it up and eat it. Sadly, there was a large group across the street so I kept on walking, imagining how good the pretzel would've tasted (assuming it was still fresh, and hadn't been stepped on my throngs of people earlier in the day). Salty foods and carbs are the best after running! The second moment was when I walked by a bench along the river along my endless voyage, and there was some kind of half empty cup of orange (?) juice in a Starbucks plastic cup just sitting there. (Side note, is it half full, or half empty?! haha) Again, for a brief moment, I thought about taking a sip because I was so parched! Worry not though, I came to my senses and realized I came THAT close to eating garbage and leftovers on the street. Next time, I'm definitely taking some bills so I can enjoy a nice (fresh) glass of orange juice and a soft (not left over) pretzel knowing I deserve it after a long run on a beautiful day.

What can I say, life is good =) I can't believe I've been in London for over a month now...time flies!

The familiar things you take for granted, but shouldn't!

When my hair gets too long, I look ridiculous. I don't mean in a good way either. I have really coarse hair, and it never just 'sits' on my head. It grows up and outward forever and ever...actually, it looks as if I've licked my finger and then stuck it in a socket! For the last three years, I've visited the SAME barber at Kelly's Hair Salon in Chinatown in New York. I have no clue what his name is, he has no clue what mine is, but we have a connection. Every time I walk in, he asks (in Chinese), 'how do you want it cut?', and every time, I reply 'not too short, not too long either'. Then, he just goes to work. EACH time, my hair comes out just the way I like it. Each time, I leave him the same tip, and he always wishes me well, to be safe, and to come back soon. I've taken this small, but significant routine in my life for granted. Before I left New York for London, I made sure to get my hair cut to make sure I could hold out as long as possible.

Last weekend though, I reached the tipping point. Each morning prior, I've been pasting more and more American Crew 'Fiber' into my hair in a feeble attempt to justify why I didn't need a hair cut yet. However, my Saturday morning, I concluded I could not make it one more day. Back in New York, I'd simply hop on the 6 train, go to see 'my man', get my cut, then go to Ten Ren for a bubble tea, then to Fey Da for a coconut bun. I've made the trip so many times I could do it with my eyes closed. Too bad I wasn't in New York anymore. I recalled there was a hair salon near the tube station and wandered all the way over only to get that 'nawww, I don't think this is going to be the place' reaction. I then walked down the street away from my place in search of a suitable replacement. Most places seemed to cater for high end women's cuts, and I surely wasn't going in there to only tell them that I wanted my hair cut 'not too short, not too long either'. Looking high, and low, left, and right, I finally found what seemed to be a suitable barber shop. Long story short, I cannot wait to go back to New York just so I can see my guy.

I've learned two lessons from my experience:

1. Never trust a bald man to cut your hair! It's just like: you don't trust a dentist that has bad teeth, or a running coach that is overweight, or a restaurant chef that is way too skinny. Don't trust a blind guy for fashion tips, a wedding planner that isn't married, a basketball coach that is 5 feet tall, or an accountant that is up to his / her butt in debt. I could go on forever...you get the point.

2. Never take your barber for granted! If you have a good guy, don't go switching it up just for the fun of it. Stick to your guy. If you don't have a good guy yet, go to Kelly's Hair Salon, and use the first dude on your left (he always wears a vest). He is good, trust me!