Saturday, December 27, 2008

-21 and frostnip

The end of the year is always hectic. It's Christmas, New Year's, end of the year deadlines and hectic travel. I was again traveling for most of the month, splitting my time between airplanes and airports. I now know the menus of Air France, Lufthansa, and Turkish Air by heart - Do&Co is my savior.

The plane finally landed in Astana international airport at 3.30AM on Thursday. By this point I must have been traveling for over 24 hours; you could tell by the way I looked and by how I smelled. I started the trip in New York. My flight to Frankfurt was more then interesting. Sitting on a packed flight and on what felt like a smaller seat from the rest, I had the pleasure of sharing an 8h flight with three brothers from Georgia. The older one told me they were in the alcohol business. Judging by his size and the fact that he was sitting on his and my chair at once, I though he was in the food industry.

They each ordered two shots of whiskey the minute the drinks were out, and as soon as that was done one of them pulled out a whiskey bottle fresh from the duty free. They finished that too, before dinner was served. So I soon became the main source of their entertainment. They somehow convinced themselves I could speak Russian and off we went for hours talking - it must have been important. It felt important. How else could it last for hours. But I can't really tell you what it was about, I don't think I ever knew.

Once in Istanbul, I decided it was a good idea to go into the city for lunch. I figured I better get some air and walking in before another long flight to Astana, and I didn't really feel like sitting at the airport. I got some cash from the ATM and took a cab to Galata. There was not much going on. It was a quiet Wednesday afternoon.

Astana was cold and the roads were white. Once we approached the city, the buildings started to appear. It all looked modern, tall and grand. Everything was lit up, giant Christmas treas all over the city. The roads in Astana are wide and the traffic is easy. Buses function and things run quite efficiently. The air is cold but the air quality doesn't seem all too bad. This is a very big contrast to the other capitals of the CIS where you feel your lungs sweat as you're breathing the air&particles mix.

Having spent all this time traveling, and my internal clock on some funky time, I wasn't sleepy. The white Astana looked appealing so I packed on my running clothing, as much as I could find in my suitcase, put on my running shoes and off I went into the cold early morning. I don't know where I ran, but I ended up on the steps of the Presidential place. From there I went in the direction of the Radison hotel, which took me over the Astana river. Everything was frozen, everything was white, streets, buildings, parks, monuments, sky, everything. I felt like I was in a fairy tale.

I finally started to lose feeling in my fingers. I was cold and getting tiered. I knew I had to run in the direction of the Baiterek Tower, the 97m high international symbol of modern Astana, to get back to the hotel. Astana is not too big, and it's set-up in a grid-like format. So even for someone like me, getting lost is difficult.

Once back at the hotel, I couldn't feel any of my fingers. All 10 of them frozen. The hot air made them hurt, really hurt. Then it passed. Except one became swollen, maybe a frostnip. So much for running in Astana in -21C; but a city all in white was breathtakingly beautiful.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Beirut Champions


The morning was slightly chilly, but a clear sky stretched well beyond the Corniche out into the Mediterranean. It was a perfect running day.

We got up early - 5AM to be at the start line by 6.10. The race started at 7AM. I was nervous. So was Paola. Ever since she declared that she would run the marathon two days before, her heartbeat was a bit irregular. I know the feeling, I just did my first marathon a month ago in New York. I was nervous too.

But in Beirut I couldn't sleep again, tossing and turning in bed all night. I kept having to go to the bathroom. The three liters of water before bed kept me on 30m toilet run cycles. I usually don't drink much water so the overdose was probably a shock to my bladder.

Paola kept insisting that she'd run the full race. I thought OK, run half and you'll do great. The gun went off at exactly 7.00. It surprised me, the punctuality. There were only a couple hundred of us at the marathon start line, and only half looked in shape to finish a marathon. The others I thought would fit better in Sumo wrestling. We got off to a slow start. I was running with Paola the first 5KM. I wanted to be with her at the start of her first race. Besides, we were running as the ISS Team and under the "Beirut 4 Sam" slogan. We were a team.

The course was OK. I got all into it when we were running through the neighborhoods of Beirut. At some point we crossed a Hezbollah stronghold - a notable difference in ambiance from the skimpy and sexy Hamra and Downtown areas. There were also some terrible parts along the way. I hated running along the highway and in the industrial area. The air was bad and it made it hard to breath, but I suppose that was a price worth paying for a flatter course. The course also repeated itself in some parts, so we had a chance to see the professional runners from up close. Unbelievable. I think I was still on KM 23 when the first professional runner passed me. He was on KM 39!, only 3KM away from the finish line. The speed at which he was running was astonishing. His legs were moving fast, his strides were long. I must have looked like a turtle next to him. It is hard not to admire them, their stamina, their focus, perseverance, and mental control of the physical pain.

It is also hard not to admire Paola's accomplishment. I made it to the finish line in good time. 3h47min. It was slower than what I ran in New York, but I started off slower, and I felt a lot better throughout the race. I felt exceptionally good in the middle - from KM 10 to 38. My speed was good, up from how I started, and I was passing people. I hit a wall at KM 39, but it didn't last very long. I was off pace in the end for one KM, but recovered at KM 40 and finished well. My stomach was also OK in Beirut, and thank God for it.

When I got to the finish line I started looking for Paola. I went to the bag drop off/pick-up area and our stuff was still there. She was still running. I couldn't believe it. She's crazy I thought, for running the full marathon. Paola's been running a lot over the last 6 months, and in November she was putting in 10 mile runs without a problem. But I didn't think she had a marathon in her legs. I sat myself at the finish line and waited for her, camera in hand. She finally appeared in the distance, 4h.40min of pain, but what a glorious finish.

Check it out, there she is in the picture above, the real Beirut Champion!

Monday, December 1, 2008

In Beirut

We arrived in the early morning, on Saturday. The flight was relatively short and of course the cabin life eventful. First a guy couldn't figure out how to make his six bags fit into an already overflowing overhead bin. Then he had a problem with his seat, insisting at least four times that someone else was in his seat. Another guy in the emergency exit would just not let go of his bag. "No man, I'm going to p-U-tit hear ahndrr my seat." The German steward was lost in trying to explain to the guy that he was in an emergency exit and that no bags allowed. The pilot kept talking about BAIRUT..."za temperatura im BAIRUT ist 17 degrez." Where the hell is BAIRUT I kept thinking?

Landing in Beirut reminded me of Abu Dhabi. Once in the terminal building, I felt relaxed. Everyone was nice and greeted us with "Welcome in Beirut." The visa process was speedy. Actually there was no visa process. The stamp guy took his time flipping through the pages of my passport, front to back and back to front. He didn't have a clue what passport I'd given him. Slavania, Slavonia, Slavakia, Rusiya, it didn't matter as long as it wasn't Israel, and as long as I had no Israeli stamps in it. When Paola gave him her Mexican passport, he got excited. "Welcome in Lebanon," and off we went. Our driver greeted us at the arrivals, with yes, "Welcome in Lebanon," and a limp handshake.

We got into his car, a '98 Mercedes S500. It looked very luxe, but as soon as the engines were on, I felt like I was on one of those propeller flights from Sarajevo to Zagreb. He paid his toll, gave the toll collector a "merci habibti" and off we went towards Lebanon "downtown." Thiz hear iz za palace of Prime Minister," he said. "You know Siniora?" Ya sure, I said, but I wanted to know more about Hariri. He is from Saudi. That's all he said. I guess he didn't really like him.

Today we got up late. Our hotel is on the waterfront, right next to the marina. Some of the yachts are unbelievably large. I don't understand why in the world someone would want to park their 20+ million toy in the marina in Beirut? What about security? Honestly, I was a little apprehensive coming in but spending the day on the streets of Beirut, I feel the city has a deep character. How would it not; like Sarajevo, it's been through a lot, hard times and good times. Beirut is calm now, but I wonder whether the power-sharing agreement recently brokered with the help of Bahrain will last beyond the next presidential election. We'll see in eight months. Today, streets are full with youth- some studying, others partying. We made a short stop on the AUB campus. It's a gorgeous site, overlooking the Mediterranean sea. We picked up our bibs and chips.

Tomorrow is the marathon. We're both running, for life against cancer. This one is for Sam; and for believing in life.

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