Cologne and Dusseldorf

Here I am in Germany, officially starting the next stage of my life.  I won’t be going back to Chicago after six weeks for another transition period.  The small selection of clothes in my suitcase will be my wardrobe until the next time I go home – whenever that may be.  My routine will change every two weeks, as I adapt to new colleagues, new cultures, and new ways of working.    

The view from my room was of the famous Cologne Cathedral and my view from the office was of a bridge that doubles as a climbing wall.  Normally I don’t even get a window in my workspace, so it was like a gift when I discovered I would have even the smallest taste of the outside world while I work.  It’s the little things that make a difference these days!

Here's the view from my room...

...and the view from my office window

On Saturday, I decided to get lost in the city and just go wherever the streets took me.  There isn’t much to do in Cologne and I had been there before, so it’s nice to enjoy a day without feeling obligated to see all the major sites.  I scored a really cool souvenir at used book market that convenes by the riverfront on the weekends. No, it wasn’t a book in German.  It was a map of Chicago...in German...from 1902.  I figured it would make a good gift for my boss or even for me, when I actually settle down again.  While shopping, I also ran across an impromptu parade with various cheerleading troupes.  Who doesn’t love random parades on a Saturday afternoon?           

Here's the first group doing a little routine

Not your typical cheerleaders but still hilariously entertaining!

Sunday was another marathon – this time in Dusseldorf.  I know, it has been less than 2 weeks since the Boston Marathon.  I know, I’m not even IN Dusseldorf.  However, my original schedule had me in Dusseldorf and I can’t pass up a race that’s so convenient.  I arrived WAY too early and the weather felt extremely cold.  So, I actually sat around in a subway station for almost an hour like a homeless person.  Eventually, I decided that the subway thing was stupid so I relocated to a bakery that smelled of warm deliciousness, bought myself a pastry, and sat in there for a while!

Finally, it was time to start walking to the race start.  I was reluctant to leave my jacket at the gear check, but I knew I would regret it if I had to run 42 kilometers with a North Face shell (and I certainly wasn’t going to throw away my only good jacket somewhere along the course)!

I always think running is such a unique way to see a new city and the Dusseldorf Marathon was no exception.  The homes were beautiful and the city was amazingly clean and orderly.  It is Germany, after all.  I was struck by the high security presence, which I attributed to the horrible events in Boston that were still fresh in everyone’s minds. 

By around mile 20, I was ready to be finished running. The last six miles seem to be my breaking point in most marathons but I was particularly worn out this time.  I started walking and could barely motivate myself to jog once again.  Of course, this happened to be where the majority of the photographers were stationed, so I got lots of hilarious candid pictures that looked like I was just out for a leisurely stroll on the streets of Dusseldorf! 

I act like I'm not in the middle of a race!

Even though my body was staging a revolt, I’ll admit that the finish line was very cool.  People were lined up along a higher street, looking down onto the runners as they approached the final turn.  My time was surprisingly respectable for having walked most of the last few miles.  I retrieved my bags, grabbed a few berliners (aka jelly donuts), and walked slowly back to the finish line to cheer on the other finishers. 

Overlooking the finish line from the street above

Corporate partners had their own tents with food.  I was jealous!

After enjoying the race atmosphere for a while, I decided it was time to venture back to Cologne.  During the train ride, I felt really satisfied with my choice to run.  The experience proved to me that people would still come out to cheer for runners, despite the recent bombings in Boston.  Even though security was higher, nothing else about the race felt all that much different to me. 

I returned to Cologne, took a long shower, and walked (very slowly) back to the Cathedral for an evensong.  Even though I couldn’t understand a single word of the service, it was amazing just to be part of the experience.  I thought back to the time my family visited me in London and I went to an evensong at Westminster with my Mom.  If I had unlimited funds, I would fly her out to Germany just to experience this with me because I know she would love it too.  

I started here but ended up in the choir loft...amazing acoustics!

The architectural detail is amazing

Helsinki, Finland

For some reason, I keep convincing myself that I’m too good for jetlag.  I’m also in a competition with nobody to visit as many countries as possible.  These two factors inspired my decision to book my flight via Helsinki and to spend my 10-hour layover exploring a new city. 

I arrived in Finland without any sleep on the flight (what else is new…) and my first stop was to the FinnAir executive lounge for a quick breakfast and some city research.  

I can't plan a day of sightseeing without first consulting Wikipedia

Once my planning was complete, I went through passport control and was shocked to see the border control agent writing down the dates of all my previous stamps to ensure that I never spend more than 90 days in the Eurozone region.  He also started questioning me about why I had traveled to so many random countries.  Even though I knew I was perfectly fine, I actually started getting a little nervous.  After discussing my past travels for about 5 minutes, he reluctantly let me through.

As I traveled into the city center, I started wondering why I was the subject of so much questioning at passport control.  Of all potential cities to “sneak” into Europe, would Helsinki really be a popular target?  Sure, the people are beautiful and the welfare state is generous, but I prefer a climate that is actually habitable for more than 3 months a year!

Once I arrived in the city center, orienting myself took longer than normal because I couldn’t find the street signs!  Eventually, I noticed these tiny white panels affixed to the side of buildings, which weren’t much bigger than a business card…Could you imagine trying to drive around and read a sign for Pohjoinen Rautatiekatu (yes, that’s actually a street name), which is set 2 meters back from the road?? 

That white thing next to the window is a street sign

Not surprising for Europe, the majority of sites to see happened to be churches, so I started with the most unusual-sounding one, Temple Church, which was carved into a rock formation.  Prior to entering, I witnessed a surprising conversation between a beggar and a security guard.  He approached her and stated that begging is not allowed so she would have to leave.  For me, Europe is synonymous with beggars, but the high Nordic taxes must have some benefit.

Here's the outside of Temple Church...the beggar is sitting right next to the rubbish can

When I entered, I was surprised to hear a children’s choir singing a hymn in English.  Obviously, it was for me :) …But really, I was shocked at how adept these people are at languages.  Score one for Finland. 

Here's the inside of the church.  Obviously not very well attended :-(

From Temple Church, I ventured to the Greek Orthodox church, which may be the most recognizable landmark in Helsinki (if there is such a thing as a ‘recognizable landmark’ in Helsinki).  Perched up on a hill, it is really a site to behold.  Since it was a Sunday, I was fortunate to experience yet another service.  This one was completely different than the last one – more social and free-flowing.  The building interior was small, but lofty.  No photos were allowed, so I will just remember the experience. 

This is what the outside of the Orthodox church looks like

Here's a view of the church from a nearby pier

On the way back to the city center, I stopped at the Helsinki Cathedral because it seemed like an important building.  Or, perhaps, people just like to get extra exercise on the way to their weekly services:

If I wasn't so tired, I would have sprinted up these stairs

The inside was very understated and it reminded me a little of the old protestant churches in New England.  One big difference is that each row of seats has its own door.  I wonder if they keep the hinges squeaky to prevent people from leaving early?

Do they lock people inside if they are bad? 

As I continued walking through the city, I also stumbled upon this unusual piece of architecture downtown: 

Mini Ikea store? 

It turned out to be another chapel (Fins must be very religious!).  Here's what the inside looks like: 

I'll just call this the Ikea chapel since I don't know the real name

By the time 4pm hit, I felt like I could easily fall asleep on a park bench somewhere.  I would imagine that this action in Finland may send me straight to prison, so instead, I decided to head back to the airport a little early so I could relax in the lounge until it was time for my flight. 

Although my visit to Helsinki was short, I saw more churches than I normally do in an entire month.  If I go back again, I’d probably use the city as an embarkation point for boat trips to Tallinn or St Petersburg.  Still, I'm glad I went and the best part of the stopover is that I can finally cross another country off my list!    

Boston Marathon

It’s the most famous race in the world and the highlight of any runner’s bucket list.  The Boston Marathon is an event that I remember watching as a kid, throughout college, and even one year in Paris during spring vacation with my family.  I achieved my qualifying time last February in Birmingham and I knew that I had to register, despite the constant uncertainty of my work schedule.  Fortunately, my office allowed me to plan the start date of my new job around the race.  My dream of running in my home city was finally coming true. 

The day before the marathon, my #1 running friend joined me to pick up my number and explore the expo.  She is the one who convinced me to sign up for my first marathon in Barcelona and then proceeded to fly across the Atlantic Ocean to run it with me.  Whenever I finish a big race, she’s the first person I call to discuss how insane we are for regularly subjecting ourselves to such pain. 

Here's where it all began: Barcelona Marathon 2010

Race expos don’t usually overwhelm me, but this was truly something special.  People everywhere were wearing their iconic Boston Marathon jackets and thousands of people were filling the entire convention center.  As Kristen and I walked through the endless rows of vendors, she shared stories from the year that she had run the race, which really got me pumped up for the experience I would have the next day.  I was so excited to know that I would soon be part of an elite group who can say that they have completed the Boston Marathon. 

Here's the scene at the finish line on the day before the marathon

The next time I see this point, I will be hardly able to walk!

Race morning was surprisingly relaxed.  My parents dropped me off at the athlete’s village in Hopkington, where I just relaxed on the grass and enjoyed the camaraderie.  From seasoned veterans to first-time marathoners running for their favorite charity, the sense of anticipation was palpable. 

For some reason, my strongest pre-race memory is of portable toilets.  Every race gives me a small amount of anxiety, as I wonder whether I will be able to plan my last toilet stop perfectly enough to avoid stopping during the race.  This calculation is never easy because, at most races, the lines get prohibitively long within 20 minutes of the start.  In Boston, this is definitely not a problem.  As I approached the starting line (which is about 1 km from the athlete village), there was an entire parking lot filled with portable toilets.  The sight actually made me laugh because it was like the mecca of toilets.  They even had portable urinals, which I have never seen before.  On that note, I’m done discussing toilets.

From the very first steps of the race, I felt such an incredible sense of excitement, as spectators literally filled the hill alongside the road.  Hopkington truly is the perfect start to this race because it feels distinctively “New England”, with the small church anchoring the town center and American flags proudly displayed everywhere.

Here's the scene at the start of the race

Usually, the crowds (and the fellow participants) thin out as the miles progress but not in Boston.  This is definitely due to the strict qualification standards and the precision of seeding.  My starting wave of 9,000 people contained only runners who had finished a previous marathon with a time of 3:19 or better.  I am definitely no superstar in this field!  On the flip side, every runner can’t help but feel like a superstar when there are 500,000 spectators lining the course and cheering for you. 

Is this a superstar pose? 

I look for mile markers in most races, but in Boston, I looked for landmarks.  There are the famous girls of Wellesley College (mile 13), my parents (mile 15), the old Bread & Circus I used to shop at (mile 17), the mansions on Commonwealth Ave that I drove past countless times on the way to school (miles 18-20), Kristen’s medical tent (mile 20.5), my alma mater (mile 21), and my first post-college apartment (mile 24).  Basically, the last 5 miles were just filled with memories and I probably would have enjoyed the sights even more if I didn’t feel like my legs were about to fall off.  

My favorite mile of the race: home of Boston College

I can barely describe the excitement of the last mile.  By this point, the crowds were 5-10 deep and the cheering was relentless.  The various country flags stationed just before the finish line serve as a reminder of the truly global nature of the event.  As I finished the race, I have never simultaneously felt so much pain and happiness together. 

Embracing the pain at mile 26

After completing a race, I normally return to the finish line to cheer on the slower runners but this time was different.  I felt unusually fatigued, so my parents took me straight home to relax.  I took a long shower and when I came back downstairs, my father announced that two bombs had just exploded at the finish line of the race.  As I watched the footage on tv, I was speechless.  The very location that had just provided me with the most exciting race finish of my life was now an active crime scene.  Immediately, our phones and all social media pages lit up with messages from everyone who knew I was running that day.  

Throughout the rest of the night, I remained glued to the tv.  I was so grateful that I decided to go home instead of returning to the finish line but sadness filled my heart, as I thought about all the innocent victims whose single motivation was to cheer for amateur athletes in some of the proudest moments of their lives. 

The search effort over the next two days was nothing short of amazing.  Only in Boston will the entire city shut down to search for a single person.  I can’t say I am surprised.  Bostonians are uniquely proud of their city and they possess a toughness that is impossible to break.

If the Tsarnaev brothers were hoping to crush the spirit of the Boston Marathon, they could not have failed more miserably. The sport of running doesn't have winning teams and losing teams.  There are no politics involved.  Marathons will allow anyone to participate without regard to age, gender, race, religion, or other superficial factors.  For this reason, an attack on the Boston Marathon is an attack on all runners.  In the days following the bombing, support from the global running community was overwhelming.  The Boston Marathon will not only continue next year, but I predict that it will be stronger than ever.