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.

Midwest Finale

As soon as I got home from California, it hit me like a brick wall: I actually had to MOVE out of Chicago before starting this new job!  I looked at the calendar: 2 weeks to pack up all my stuff, ship it to Boston, and say goodbye to everyone.  Oh, and I still have to work my full-time job.  Oh, and I also booked a weekend trip to St Louis for another half-marathon.

I know what you’re thinking: the trip to St Louis is totally unnecessary.  If I were a normal person, I’d agree.  But, I had to redeem myself after the worst-ever performance in Denver at the end of my ski vacation.  Despite all the excuses (broken toe, altitude, tired legs from skiing), I needed to prove to myself that my snail pace was just a fluke.

In my mind, the whole moving process would be really easy.  Despite spending 26 months in Chicago, I never felt permanent.  My apartment was fully furnished and I moved in with only 2 large suitcases full of clothes.  I do remember my parents sending two additional boxes afterwards but I really didn’t have all that much stuff.

Every night for the first week, I committed to packing one box - either before of after my social plans.  It seemed like a good plan until Friday arrived and it barely looked like anything was gone.

Despite a lengthy ‘to-do’ list swirling around in my head, I was excited to get down to St Louis for the race.  The city itself isn’t all that appealing since I have been there countless times with my last job, but I always enjoy weekend trips that revolve around races.  I get to meet people who share a similar passion for fitness, I get to see cities in a way that traditional sightseeing often neglects, and I get to feel the adrenaline from people cheering me on as I run past them!

This race was huge (almost 12,000 runners) and the weather was perfect, but I convinced myself not to push too hard since I had the Boston Marathon only 1 week later.  My only goal for this race was to do well on the “holy hill”, which is a 2-mile race within a race. 

The race started with this iconic view

The course took runners through Anheuser-Busch brewery (yes, it smelled like brewing beer which made me want to puke a little), up through some nice neighborhoods, next to a park, and past Union Station.  The best part was entering “holy hill”, which had a real priest sprinkling real holy water on the runners!  Once I crossed the timing mat, I literally sprinted with all my energy up this 2-mile hill.  In fact, I used up so much energy on the hill that I actually had to jog for a bit at the top, just to catch my breath for the last 5 miles of the race.

In the end, I didn’t have one of my better times although I still managed to finish 27^th overall. (Random thought: Do people in St Louis eat lead for breakfast or something?? There’s no way I should have finished in the top 0.2%!)  All joking aside, I was thrilled when I looked at the results board and saw that I had earned a medal in my age group for the holy hill! 

Once I got back to Chicago, the last week felt like it lasted about 22 seconds.  One thing about rush packing is that it really forces you to throw things away that aren’t absolutely necessary.  I also had some unusual meals as I tried using up as much food as possible.  (Stove-top stuffing and frozen Asian dumplings are a nutritious combination, right?).

Looking back on my last two weeks in Chicago, I really think that I will miss living in the city.  Even though the winter weather is miserable, overall quality of life is actually quite high.  Plus, I didn’t realize how many good people I had met there until it was difficult finding time to say goodbye to them all.  At this point, it’s too early to say whether or not I will move back, but I'm definitely not opposed to it.  Until then, I will make the most of the next stage in my life and remember my time in Chicago with a smile.