UltraBalkanMarathonMan

Too much but not enough- Closing down the Haiti Relief Run Fundraiser

2010-01-27T17:40:00.003-05:00

This has been a difficult week of fundraising but from an unexpected perspective. Prior to launching the fundraiser, on Friday, January 15, we had a quick phone call with PIH wherein they expressed interest in our support and proposed fundraiser. In the subsequent week however, as PIH's public profile increased, they became less responsive. We were finally able to follow-up with them at which point they indicated that they were now focusing their efforts on larger donations and could no longer process a donation of our proposed magnitude (goal: 10,000€).

We were surprised to hear this but also appreciated their candid response regarding an internal incapacity to deal with the surge in donations. Herein the dilemma-- we all know that the aid bottleneck will eventually dry up (indeed it has already begun), but we no longer feel confident that this NGO-- which came highly recommended from people in the field-- is best suited to handle further donations. We can get into a long discussion at this point about the efficacy of aid and NGOs, something we have been discussing ad nauseum at home but that still leaves the question of how best to support a disaster relief effort from afar.

As regards our original goal to purchase heavily discounted medical equipment from Balton, that plan had to be dispensed with due to objections raised by PayPal and the subsequent disinterest of PIH. As we (Borut & Paola) are not a registered 501(c)(3) charity, PayPal considered our plea for donations suspicious and would not waive its commission fee on the donated funds. It's been disheartening to see the default skepticism with which goodwill is received, but that is modern reality.

We have refunded all donations received via PayPal as our fundraiser is effectively dead. We are still running the Barcelona Half-Marathon and are still keenly interested to assist in the disaster relief effort. However, in light of the set-backs encountered, we thought it best to allow you to individually make the decision about how best your funds could be used.

We offer you our sincere apologies for this mess. It has been something truly unexpected and eye-opening, and only reaffirms a long-known truth that the best manner to help those less fortunate than us is not so easy to decipher.

Solar power in Haiti relief effort

2010-01-26T17:51:00.002-05:00

Amidst the rubble of earthquake in Haiti and all the efforts to mobilize funding to help with the relief effort, I just wanted to pass along two examples that have come across my desk of how solar power is being used to bring both clean water and clean light to bear on the cleanup: More...

Rain in Istanbul

2010-01-22T16:02:00.007-05:00

Istanbul in January is not much to write about. Rain, snow, more rain, wind, trash and cold wind in your face, leaking rooftops, and smelly run-down buildings. My days are spent in solitary confinement. I don't leave my apartment, except for an occasional meeting, a coffee at Susam - a perfect neighborhood cafe decked out with eclectic 1950's grandma's living room furniture -- and daily trips to the gym, where I keep pounding out the miles.

The magic of this city is gone, at least for me. I used to come to Istanbul with eyes and mouth wide open. A magical place. Indeed, it was, it is, but only for a few days. Living here has been a different, frustrating experience. Language is the first problem. Yes, I have myself to blame for that. Three months in and I don't speak a word of Turkish aside from the basic five phrases. But Turkish is tough, and for the life of me, I can't place it. On top of it, I'm tone deaf so learning through internalizing the sound of the language is not an option - my brother, a talented musician, would probably do a lot better. Istanbul, or maybe it is just my neighborhood Cihangir, lives by night sleeps by day. I'm up until 3-4am every day, and never awake before 8.30. I used to be a morning person, now I'm a complete night owl. Cool, I accept it. When in Istanbul, do as the Istanbullus.

Food is the one thing I still enjoy, though even this is getting a bit repetitive. I love eggplant, and so does Paola. Turkish cuisine uses eggplant in everything. Eggplant stuffed with rice; eggplant grilled and mashed served with barbecued chicken breast; eggplant with tomato, cucumber, garlic in yogurt...etc. You think it, they have it. A strong vegetable diet is great for training - from this perspective, my intake of nutrients and complex carbs is better than ever before, and it helps keep my energy levels in balance. I'm also feeling good on the runs. The other day I did a 26Km long distance at a pace of 15.2km/h. I was fine the next morning, and recovered by today for my VO2 max workout.

Haiti fundraiser update: so far, we've collected around 1200€ in donations. Thank you all, so much, for giving. But there is a long way to go to 10,000. If you still can, please donate. Or pass our message on to your friends.

Bleeding nipples after 26km...cool running!

PayPal becomes obstacle to our Haiti Relief Run

2010-01-20T18:19:00.009-05:00

I've invaded the marathon man's blog for the course of training for our Haiti Relief Run. Hi from the ultra-wife!

So, PayPal's turned into a huge obstacle in our fundraising effort. I wrote to them last Friday when we launched this campaign, in the hopes that they'd waive their commission on each payment so that 100% of the funds received could go to purchase medical equipment. Their fee is 2.9% + 30¢. The fee is pretty competitive (for example, FirstGiving charges 7.5% of total donations received), but I thought PayPal might be willing to waive the fee in light of the humanitarian disaster.

Well, have you ever seen the movie Groundhog Day? It's been 5 days of that. PayPal just responds with canned automated drivel, doesn't read anything I send them, won't let me speak to a decision-maker on the telephone. It's been exasperating. Not only have they failed to waive their fee, but they've put a limitation on my account until I supply them with proof of my tax-exempt status. But I can't provide them with that proof, because I am just an individual trying to take advantage of an amazing discount on medical equipment for disaster relief. I still hold some hope that a thinking person will read through my messages, think about it for a few seconds, and clear the situation. But if they don't, Borut and I will make the total whole at the end of our fundraising to make sure that 100% of your donations make it to Haiti.

I want to thank all of you that have helped, it means a tremendous amount to both of us. We've raised over $1000 so far, but have a long way to go. We'd also like to thank all of you who have written to us to let us know that you've already made donations through other organizations. It's been so wonderful to hear of the outpouring of support from all of us that are in a position to help. So thanks, it's all about the end goal.

The news we are getting from Haiti is grim. Today's aftershock was intense, and I can only imagine the terror that each person in Port-au-Prince must have experienced. Partners in Health reports the following: "Our team on the ground reaffirms that the reports of violence on the streets of Port-au-Prince have been grossly exaggerated and have become a major obstacle to mounting the response needed to save tens of thousands of lives each day." Please, can someone tell me who wins with the scaremongering? It's pathetic and deadly.

It's been a rough week of training. On Sunday I was scheduled to run 13K, but the gym closed early and we had to cut our workout short. So I ran 8K @ 9K/h and then booked it for 2K @ 14K/h at the end. Tuesday was hills, and that's just rough no matter which way you slice it. And then today, I finally ran the 13K, but had to book it again. I was late getting to the gym because I was wasting time firing off missives to PayPal, and by the time I got there I was so frustrated, that all I wanted to do was run hard. I finished the 13K in 70 mins. I don't think I've ever run that fast for that long.

Clinton-Bush tag team.

2010-01-18T10:22:00.004-05:00

Check them out:
The foundation & the op-ed.

Running update: today we are resting.

Doing what we can

2010-01-17T15:56:00.008-05:00

Fundraising is always a tricky process, and what I realized is that it has become extremely competitive as well. Haiti is a case in point. Overnight, international organizations, pop artists, ex presidents (the B.Clinton and G.W.Bush initiative) and sportsmen (read Tiger Woods looking to rehab his image) have launched a Haiti relief effort of some sort. The danger - too much money overwhelms the system. Even in delivering aid there's such a thing as a bottleneck. That makes sense. When infrastructure is destroyed and local community devastated, getting the aid to the needy is both a logistical and a security challenge. Case in point: Haiti. Since the earthquake, we have witnessed an increase in violence and international organizations are struggling to process the aid and spend the money wisely and most importantly, in an accountable manner. This is not meant to discourage you from giving or helping. By all means do, and Haiti needs help and will need help going forward. But do check the organization before you donate, and try to match your donation with the organization that at least has experience and people on the ground in Haiti today.

Because a lot has been said on the net in the last days about misuse of funds - i.e the accusations against Yele Haiti setup by a member of the Fugees - I want to tell you a bit more about our own fundraiser. When we started we did some research into the immediate and medium term needs in Haiti. It turned out these are medical teams, equipment, water and rescue dogs. Then we considered how best we can help - should we go there and help on the ground or try to raise funds? Going to Haiti seemed unreasonable - the airport is shut, and once there, what experience do we have in providing valuable assistance? It didn't take long to shelve this option.

The next best thing was to link up with a charity that has provided medical service and equipment in Haiti, and is on the ground now. That's why we decided to link up with Partners in Health. They've been in Haiti since 1987 and have a strong track record of and infrastructure for delivering medical assistance in Haiti. After talking to them, we assessed that medical equipment was most needed and here we had a way to do it - through Balton, the Polish producer of medical equipment, which has agreed to give us the equipment at half price. This means that for every euro raised we are able to buy 2 euros worth of equipment.

So far, we have raised 730 euros. This is still a way off our target - 10,000 euros. But with your generous help, we can make it!

Training report: this weekend was great with a cumulative distance run = 55km.

Keep the faith!

Haiti!

2010-01-15T11:07:00.018-05:00

Back again! Another cause another run. After my last marathon in Berlin, in September 2009, I hit my max. I had it with running marathons. The road leading up to Berlin was particularly rough as I trained while trying to change my life 180 degrees. Paola I and decided to leave New York back in August, which was a difficult but necessary decision. New York is a great city, almost too good, which is precisely the problem. You never want to leave. And that's dangerous, because there's so much to see in this world. We loaded our apartment into a U-Haul and set off on a road trip, first across America. Five months on, we are still "on the road." Now living in Istanbul, we've embraced the nomadic life.

Returning to the Berlin marathon - training for a marathon in the summer sucks. The temperatures and humidity prevent optimal training, you always feel drained and dehydrated, and your weight due to water loss fluctuates constantly. On top of it all, I'd made it a personal goal of mine to run the marathon under 3h.11min in order to qualify for Boston. So the pressure was on, I was no longer just running to enjoy myself, but I was out to prove something. Stupid. A year of constant running also had other physical and psychological consequences - my iron levels were low and my running tank was dry. It was a struggle to convince myself on a daily basis to keep on going. When it's no longer fun, you better do something else, and how true that is. I thought about pulling out of the race, but I made a commitment to run it, and had put in all this training already, so I convinced myself into doing it - against all the signs. To make a long story short, Berlin was a disaster. I pulled out of the race with crippling stomach pains. Sick I know, but it's scary when your marathon turns into a toilet run. That was that. I decided on a long break, and technically, I'm still sticking to my decision. I probably won't run another marathon before the Fall of 2010.

But running has invaded my veins and provides me an escape from the daily life. My brother tells me it's an addiction. I suppose it is. And I'm trying to moderate it. Not running every day, and running shorter distances, but I keep running all the same.

Haiti, ladies and gentlemen! What a disaster! I feel so sorry for the Haitian people, who already have suffered so much. If there is a time I question God's justice, it's in moments like these. Why is it that the poorest of us, those who have already been served the short end of the stick, continue to suffer the gravest disasters -- floods, earthquakes, wars. Are some nations, some people, doomed forever? What a morbid thought. So, I figured I need to do something to help - it is my human duty to help my fellow citizens for we are all one, stuck on earth - at least for now.

About the Haiti relief project:

- Haiti most needs medical equipment, doctors, food, water, and sniffer dogs (for rescue operations).
- To help, Paola and I signed up to run the Barcelona half-marathon (Feb. 14, 2010) in order to raise money to buy medical supplies for Haiti.
- Partners in Health is a US based medical NGO which provides and, has been providing, medical assistance to Haiti since 1987.
- We will buy the medical supplies from Balton, a producer of medical equipment. Balton has agreed to give us a 20% discount on their distribution price (which comes out to around 50% discount on retail price) for all medical equipment we purchase for Haiti.
EDIT: - ~~The medical supplies will be donated~~ We are raising funds for direct donation to Partners in Health, a US based medical NGO which provides and, has been providing, medical assistance to Haiti since 1987.
- Partners in Health are on the ground in Haiti now, with doctors, mobile hospitals and medical supplies.
~~- The more we raise, the more medical equipment we can buy and the more lives we can help save.~~

EDIT: We've changed our fundraising approach because PayPal was wasting our time, and Partners in Health indicated they could better use cash donations than medical equipment. So, we've transferred all the funds received thus far directly to PIH and are continuing our fundraising efforts with FirstGiving. Your donations processed by FirstGiving will go directly to PIH for their immediate use. We've unfortunately had to cut Balton-- the Polish medical equipment supplier-- out of this equation, but this is the most transparent way of ensuring that your donations are promptly and efficiently used.

*A word about accounting. We wanted to set this up through JustGiving, as we did when we raised funds for WaterAid last year, but that structure wouldn't allow us to take advantage of the discount that Balton has offered to us on the medical equipment. So, we're doing this through PayPal. 100% of the funds we receive will be used to purchase medical equipment from Balton, in coordination with Partners in Health. We will keep you posted as to how our fundraiser is going.

Our objective: 10,000 Euro.

The end

2009-02-20T00:23:00.007-05:00

The alarm clock went off at 6.00. I opened my eyes grudgingly. I looked out the window and I could see no lights. It was still dark outside. I was tiered from the trip the day before, which got me into Brussels late at night; it must of have been well after 11pm. The weather in Brussels is terrible, and it never changes. On top of the rain, the temperature in January is below freezing. I sat up on the bed. Paola was still asleep. A 10 mile run was the last thing I wanted to do that morning. But I had a reason, a damn good reason to go out there and try my best. I was no longer running for myself. We were saving lives now. I had a responsibility to WaterAid and to all those children in Africa that needed me to keep running. I thought about how fortunate my life has been; about how little I've spent giving and how much time I've spent thinking about making -- money, projects, a career. I was finally up and getting dressed. My running gear was dirty from the morning before, but what did it matter, outside it was still muddy. I picked up my running shoes and shut the door behind me before that urge to go back to bed would get the best of me. I wanted to look forward, to run, to save lives. I wanted to be in Austin already. That day was January 28. The rest of the days passed by fast. I kept running and I was ready on that morning, on Feb. 15 when I stepped into the queue for the start of the Austin Marathon. The running was easy. I settled for an 8min/mile pace, but half-way through I realized that I could do better. I was still worried not to overdo it so I kept it under control for the next 5 miles. At mile 18 I was sure I could push harder and last to the end. So I did. I picked up my pace. "Go Water Aid" I heard the crowd cheering, "Awesome pace." That only urged me on. By now I felt like I was floating. I was on mile 23 but the feeling was the same as if I had only started. It was great. I was smiling; no I was laughing as I ran past the excited Austin crowd. The sun bright and warm, and I was on my last mile, running on Trinity Street, the last long stretch before the turn into the finish area on Congress. For the first time I found myself looking back to that January 18 in Brussels, to the cold days, to all that running in the rain, freezing cold and snow; to Paola and I massaging our legs: to the tears and aches and pains and bruised knees; to WaterAid and our effort and the kind donations which we received. I crossed the finish line in Austin. It was the best run of my life, and the fastest marathon I ever did -- 3h23min. Thank you for helping, for believing, and thank you for your humanity.

Tomorrow is Austin

2009-02-14T09:53:00.004-05:00

Tomorrow is the Austin Marathon. I am ready. I have been running 70-mile week cycles since the beginning of January. My legs are strong. My mind is at peace. For the first time since I started running marathons I feel confident in my ability to run a good race, and beyond running I feel good.

Paola and I are racing for WaterAid. Their mission is to overcome poverty by enabling access to safe water and sanitation. Our objective is to help save 200 lives by rising money and awareness. Please contribute today if you can.

www.justgiving.com/borut

Abut WaterAid

Thanks you for donating!

Austin TX

2009-01-19T21:51:00.004-05:00

A break is nowhere in sight. I am hungry for another challenge as there is ample room for improvement. Things are out of balance; I feel like we are living on borrowed time. To change is to innovate. I must innovate this year. It would be a shame to use 2009 just to go back to where I came from -- a world walking on the brink of collapse, riddled with tension, corruption, greed and hatred.

There is a better way, a new way a new year, and I look forward to tomorrow. Barack is my hero too. I wish I could shake his hand and tell him how happy I am to be a part of it all, even if not in person but at least in spirit I am.

On February 15 I'm running my next marathon, in Austin TX. We registered a full team this time. Paola, JP and his girlfriend Amanda are all running. I wrote to WaterAid asking them to send us their logo so that we can promote their cause at Austin. WaterAid is doing an important service to our human kind, bringing drinking water to those that don't have it.

Did you know? 5000 children die every day from drinking dirty water - the equivalent of 20 airliners filled with children lost everyday to an entirely preventable public health crisis.

I can't believe I live in a world where this is so. It really says a lot about our own self-delusion, our ability to live so removed from one another, sheltered by what we call booming careers, jet-setting, and material wealth. But things are interconnected, and those of us benefiting from globalization to move from rags to riches, should know better than to keep being selfish.

Give today to WaterAID! At least they are trying trying to make a difference, so let's help them.

-21 and frostnip

2008-12-27T01:32:00.006-05:00

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.

Beirut Champions

2008-12-06T10:54:00.008-05:00

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!

In Beirut

2008-12-01T05:09:00.002-05:00

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.

3.39

2008-11-14T18:51:00.004-05:00

The New York marathon is now behind me. It's been two weeks almost, and I still don't feel comfortable writing about how I felt running it and how I feel now. I am surprised at my own confusion and the need to sensor my own thoughts.

My first emotion crossing that finish line in Central Park was pride. I couldn't believe I actually ran the bloody thing -- the whole 26.2miles. Believe me, I thought about quitting every minute of the race after about mile 18. And I can't remember what kept me going in the end. I could pretend, and say cliche things like it was dedication, the heart, the endurance, the hard-hardheadedness that runs in the male part of my family.

I really can't decide on this: am I running these ridiculously long distances to prove something, above all to myself. Or am I running to catch up with the other me, and leave this me behind. Either way it seems that running is somehow related to me, to my psyche. It's certainly not for the health benefit that I'm kicking my ass every day. Doctors recommend 2.5 hours of exercise per week.

In New York I finished the race, but there were problems along the way. My stomach was off and it started to bother me at mile 13, and I had to make a shit-stop. At mile 24 I vomited. OK, I kept on running, but I wasn't enjoying it after my physical condition, which was all-mighty at the start of the race with Frank Sinatra's New York, New York blasting on the speakers, began to deteriorate.

I am a rather muscular guy for a runner. My bigger-than-usual body frame is from rugby. On top of it, rugby is a high-energy short-interval sport. The physical is allowed to dominate the mental. But marathoning is about attaining steady performance over time; the mind should be in charge.

So I already found the next fix-up: Beirut, November 30. My target this time is very different from what I did in New York. I don't want to run Beirut for time. I want to run it for balance, to the point where I feel the same (mentally) at mile 22 as i did at mile 2 -- just enjoying the run.

3 days to go...

2008-10-29T20:07:00.004-04:00

It's almost here and i don't want to run it. That's the paradox of life. I trained for almost 5 months, thought about quitting a hundred times, suffered through gastric pains and unpleasantness, heat strokes, close calls on the road, muscle spasms, and bleeding nipples. I even shaved my chest hair cause it felt marathonman-like. And now this feeling of distance from the end goal? What the f....

On the other hand it's been a life experience. The runs took me places I've never been and made me see things I had no idea existed -- both physical and metaphysical. I experienced the runners high. I pushed myself to the verge, tittering between the state of consciousness and subconsciousness. It's Milan Kundera's lightness of being -- a dream in the real.

The last weak has also been a very easy one in terms of distance. I've cut down to the point where I don't know what's even the point of doing these short runs. But my web coach seems to think I should keep strapping on my running shoes and spinning the legs. God, I can't stand the sight of that guy's face anymore. I need a new coach, or he should remove his picture from his page.

Last Thursday -- it was my birthday -- and my last long run. I took a buddy of mine along and we did a half marathon. it was easy and it felt awesome, and it helps to have someone to talk to.

So here it comes, do or die. Am I ready? I'll know on Sunday.

Running to democracy

2008-10-22T14:08:00.003-04:00

My running has been easier over the last few weeks. I’m knocking down the miles to rest my legs ahead of the race. But my runs are less inspiring.

I’m growing both excited by the prospect of running in the New York marathon and anxious. It is my first race, so I guess the feeling of doubt is a part of it. Am I ready; did I train enough? My last 20Mile run was less than convincing. This weekend I did 12Miles in Bodrum. I was reckless in my time selection, hitting the road at 2pm with the sun directly above me. What was I thinking? I was drenched in sweat in the first 30 minutes. After that, it was pure psychology to keep my legs and body moving. Narcissism? Maybe manic is a better way to describe my approach to running. On top of it, I caught a cold last weekend and am now nursing a slight fever. I went running yesterday. Bad idea, I feel worse today. I should have rested.

Off of the marathon track, Azerbaijan had its presidential election last week. The incumbent, President Ilham Aliyev, was reelected with 90 percent support. I remember the first presidential election there, and the last parliamentary one. This one was better. But the OSCE/ODIHR and now the EU Presidency argued the election did not meet all the international standards.

Well, it’s like running a marathon. We’re all in it for the long run. Azerbaijan, EU and the OSCE. Democracy like long-distance running is about the process, the training and the institutional stamina.

Crashing

2008-10-01T01:09:00.004-04:00

It seems everything is crashing. I arrived in New York last week, partly to be back home and partly for the UN General Assembly. I'm usually excited upon arrival, except this time the City feels less alive than usual, with less electricity in the air to make your hair stand up. The news from the financial markets is killing the mood, I suppose, for everyone. I don't know what to think. But I know I feel anxiety. Was this inevitable, just another bubble bursting, is the bail-out package even relevant in the grand scheme of things? Even the weather has been worse the usual, raining most of the time. New York almost feels like Brussels.

I could not care. But with bank after bank folding or being acquired, I can't help but think that nobody and nothing is safe anymore. The stock market is too risky, commodities seem unstable and their value will probably drop as the global economy contracts. Buy gold? I don't know, it seems overvalued. Then there's the whole currency issue. Should I keep liquidity in Dollars or Euros; in both or in Pounds?

But what scares me even more than the market, is the possibility that Sara Palin could be a heartbeat away from the White House. I like the idea that in America everything is possible and anyone can become someone if they just work hard enough. But some things are outright outrageous and wrong, and her nomination for VP is wrong and outrageous, careless and dangerous. She is not ready to be the Vice President of the most powerful country, let alone President. After all, and as we are now seeing, when America falls sick so do the rest of us. I never thought I would see the day when I may wish for President Bush to return to the While House, but with Palin possibly coming in, I'm feeling Bush shouldn't leave at all.

No wonder running has been less than fun this week. My head is cluttered with random worries. But I'll keep running and hopefully clear the jumble and find some answers.

November 2

2008-09-20T15:41:00.005-04:00

Some weeks ago, I decided to change my approach to this project. Hear me out. After running myself into the ground, literally, I figured it was time to reconsider my ambitious goal -- running an ultra-Balkan marathon. So I did, and concluded that I better take it one step at a time. This generally seems to be my issue, I often see the big picture but can underestimate the prep time that is needed to get there. So in a way, moving from ultra-marathon to marathon has been a major learning curve for me. And in the end, if this is all that comes out of my running experience, I'm glad I tried being a marathoner.

What next? Well, as you can see I'm not a man of small ambition. I decided to find a way to get into the New York marathon. I didn't have to look far. It was actually my wife that deserves all the credit for this. She got me a running chip -- for anyone familiar with the New York marathon getting in as a first time runner is nearly impossible.

The race is on November 4. All of you that are in the area, or want to travel up to New York to cheer me on or celebrate, reserve this date. Pao and I will throw a roof-deck marathon BBQ & Beer party right after. I not only feel excited by it, but frankly a bit frightened, too. If there is one marathon to run in this world, this is the one. Top class athletes and marathon stars will be there at the starting line, and me. I hope I can get to meet the new Olympic champion, Kenyan Samuel Wanjiru. What a star runner he is.

As I pulled back from ultra training to just training, I also dropped the daily mileage. I find it more bearable this way, and I'm back to enjoying my running. Except for when I get lost, as I did last Sunday in Brussels, in the Terkamerenbos Forest. The thing is massive. Google it. Once I finally found civilization I was 20KM away from Brussels, in the Flemish part of Belgium. Lucky for me, there was a train stop right there and the local line connecting to Etterbeek, so it was only a 10min run home. I managed to convince the train conductor to let me stay on as I had no money to buy the ticket. Such is life of a marathoner; you're either running away from something or to something, but either way, you're running. Not very profound, I know, but it's true.

I'm in Baku today. There is no marathon here. I wonder whether I could set one up. I should talk to the Minister of Culture and Sport about it. I'll do it once I run New York.

Back to basics

2008-08-23T22:22:00.007-04:00

Since finishing my first marathon I've been less inspired by the idea of running. Work has been unusually busy for August. I traveled to Europe and the Caspian region last week - stopping in Europe twice and in Baku. I was mostly flying and sleeping little. I did my last Sunday run in Slovenia.

I arrived in Vienna Sunday morning at 6AM from Baku, and connected to Ljubljana at 10. Once in Ljubljana I made a quick stop at the ISS office, picked up the weekend Financial Times and off I went to Cacao -- a new gelateria/cafe in the center of Ljubljana, on the left bank of Ljubljanica. This is the best place in town to have your ice cream and the waiters are responsive, all except one -- Speedy. He's a confused dude.

The sun was hot. I ordered two scoops of ice cream, which at Cacao is a serious serving, and began reading the FT interview with the Ukrainian PM, Yulia Tymoshenko. It was disappointing in that little politics was discussed. This is the Prime Minister of Ukraine, I thought, speaking to the FT in the midst of the Georgian crisis, and the interviewer can't stop talking about her looks and her role as a woman in the Ukrainian political space. Boring.

Having loaded up on ice cream and no longer enjoying reading the paper, I decided to go for my Sunday run. Another marathon I thought. I set off from the Ljubljana rugby club field, which is just outside of the Ljubljana city proper, running in the direction of Skofja Loka. I took the back road and ran through the rolling corn fields. It was a beautiful run, clean air, and a peaceful Sunday afternoon. Once in Skofja Loka, I turned in the direction of Cerkno Jezero. By now, I was on mile 12. I was getting tiered. My legs hurt, and I realized that running another marathon was going to be a stretch. I didn't give myself enough time to recover from the last one I ran in New York. With each additional step my legs felt heavier. By mile 14 I was battling with my mind convincing myself to keep going despite moving at snails pace. But then my left ankle started to hurt as well as my hips. I couldn't run anymore and started to walk everytime there was a small uphill. At mile 16.5 my mind gave way to the pain. I collapsed on the grass near the road and for a second I felt I might faint. I closed my eyes. When I next opened them two strangers were standing above me, a man and a woman, asking me if they should call an ambulance. I was surprised -- why an ambulance? I needed a cab. I asked them to call me a taxi. They did.

The taxi eventually found me sitting in the grass field on this remote road, and he drove me back to my car. The driver's only comment to me was: "Why are you calling for a ride on such a beautiful day, you should exercise." I smiled and nodded, too tired to explain.

That evening I met up with my parents in Sezana at the Grgic Restaurant. They were returning from a short vacation in Switzerland. We ate like noblemen that evening -- squid salad, prosciutto and goat cheese from Kras- a region in Slovenia known for its bare landscape and fresh winds- ravioli with truffles, and finished off with grilled fish. It was good to see and catch up with mom and dad after so many months. The next day I left for New York.

The Marathon

2008-08-11T09:45:00.003-04:00

I knew it; running in Mexico was tough. Aside from the crazy traffic and lack of pedestrian zones and parks, there is also the pollution and altitude to manage. I love Mexico though! The food in delicious, people are friendly and happy, and the country is a vibrant palette of colors. Rich in diversity, culture, and history, Mexico satisfies the human craving for dolce vita. I was in Cuernavaca last weekend, which is about 80 KM south of Mexico City. I probably started my run way too late, hitting the road at 9:30AM -- I was going to do earlier, but at 5AM a massive downpour killed that plan and in my grogginess I reasoned what's the point of getting wet if I can sleep longer and go running later, rested. Mistake. By the time I got out the traffic was heavy, air pollution was bad, and the air was humid. It rains a lot in Mexico during this time of the year, but rarely in Cuernavaca during the day, only at night. The city is famous for its constant climate and sunny days, known as the "City of Eternal Spring" it is a popular weekend destination for the chic of Mexico City.

As I was running the hilly city, I kept thinking about not being able to finish a full marathon. It was crazy to think this way, I know, defeating my purpose before even starting the run. But for some reason I decided to have a bad attitude about the whole thing. So of course, I didn't accomplish much that day. I ran 13 miles in a boring 2.13h. The end came on a hill, which seemed eternal. I was running 35 minutes uphill nonstop, and the end just didn’t want to come. I was swearing the hill under my breath, and I was getting nervous. This destroyed my breathing, which became irregular and I was feeling hot, more than usual, interspersed with shocks of chills. I figured I was suffering from dehydration and on the verge of a heat stroke. There was no fun in this. I stopped running.

Defeated, I called my mother-in-law for a ride home. I wondered in that moment, will I ever be able to do it, to run an ultramarathon, if I couldn't even get up to 26 miles.

We left Mexico City for New York early last week. I was gone from New York for almost three months. Being back felt strange at first, but the pace of New York is such that you never have much time to think about things. So the re-integration happened fast. By-mid week I was back in my old training routine – running and weightlifting. My last Sunday run in Cuernavaca was far behind me now.

On Saturday I was up early - 5.30AM. However, I wasn’t hurrying to get on with the run. I was wasting time. I was nervous about the run -- the Cuernavaca experience was reconstructed in my head. I thought, "What if I can't do it again?" This would be another failed attempt at running a marathon. I don't know how exactly I structured my thought process to convince myself to try again and to feel good about trying, but I was out the door at 6.20 ready to do it. Maybe it was the Olympic spirit that got to me, with the Beijing 2008 Olympic games kicking off the day before.

I took off in the direction of lower Manhattan, towards the Financial District. From there I turned towards the Brooklyn Bridge and crossed it. Once in Brooklyn I reversed course and headed back to the West Side Highway and the Hudson River. 1.30h into the run I met up with my friend. We ran together up the West Side highway towards Central Park. He took a break at that point; I ran on. The full circle around the park took 40 minutes. By now I was 3.20h into the run, and had a little over 3miles to go to full marathon. I met up with my friend again. This saved me. In my head I already gave up, but having him run by my side gave me the edge and the will to keep pushing. At some point, I couldn't run up the hill anymore, breaking into a fast walk. My legs were cramping all over. This lasted for almost 3 minutes. I began to wonder if I would reach a point where I would be too weak to lift my legs at all. My friend kept pushing urging me; I kept telling him I can’t, and he kept saying you can. I was getting annoyed and upset. And there it clicked, the stubbornness kicked in and I regained a running pace and off we went from Central Park back to West Side Highway and back down towards Chelsea. At this point, I was even picking up pace, which surprised both of us. Running was getting easier. Perhaps it had something to do with the slight downhill we were on, or I hit another pocket of energy.

Finally, my iPod started to talk. It was Lance Armstrong congratulating me on my longest run yet. This wasn’t a dream. It was the real thing. I made it; I finished a marathon. It took me 3.44h, but that’s an irrelevant detail. I was overwhelmed with excitement and a grand feeling of satisfaction. I ran a marathon! Finally, just like that, on a non-particular Saturday morning in New York.

As we sat there in the grass, looking at Jersey, we started singing our Stanford Rugby song "We"re a bunch of bastards..." -- my friend and I played rugby together at Stanford. For a moment I felt like I was back at Stanford, sitting on the pitch after a bruising rugby match. I remember how it felt, the pain, the glory, the team, the satisfaction that come with an act of bravery. We were brave, the Stanford Rugby team.

And, we were brave this Saturday!

Still chasing

2008-08-02T10:14:00.006-04:00

After my 23 miles in Brussels, I encountered a strange four weeks of running. I started traveling a great deal which made running difficult, more than usual. I was back at 20 miles the next week; I ran them on the upper Croatian coast, in Istria. Starting off in Novi Grad I ran along the coast to Mareda, a small town where we used to have a summer house -- a lot of my childhood memories come from there. From Mareda I made my way on the local road to Umag. In Umag I turned around and headed back to Novi Grad. It started raining, the sun was setting, and road running felt unsafe at times. When I was off the road and on the coast, the route was great.

The island of Korcula was my next Sunday stop. Paola and I spent a weekend there with our close friends. The island is superb -- Korcula city is the new up-and-coming spot on the Croatian coast. The bays on the island are magical, cutting deep into the island; the water is a mix of turquoise and green-blue. After a good Saturday fish dinner, I set out on my Sunday run early in the morning, before 6AM. I left Korcula on the main road traversing the island in the direction of Vela Luka, which is a city on the other side, exactly 46KM away. The start of the run was hard as it was a straight 45min climb to get to the top of the island's mountain. The interior of the island is sparsely populated, but rich with vineyards and olive trees. I passed a number of small towns on my way to Vela Luka. At 8am the sun was already strong and the heat began to pick up. I kept pushing, but at 9 KM from Vela Luka I stopped. I laid on the ground under a cross, quite fitting as I felt almost dead.

From the seaside, we returned to Brussels, and spent the following weekend in Paris. I didn't run much that weekend, managing a boring 12 mile run upon my return to Brussels from Paris on Sunday.

The last weekend I spent it running in the Slovenian mountains, in Bohinj. I arrived early in Ljubljana from Sarajevo on Saturday, 10 minutes before 7AM. That afternoon I was due to leave for New York, after having spent almost 2 months in Europe and in the Caspian, but my afternoon connection from Paris to New York was canceled. Luckily, Air France was kind enough to call me while I was still in Ljubljana and offer me a Sunday alternative. I took it and immediately headed for Bohinj. I put on my running gear and loaded on water. I started off in at the foot of the lake heading in the direction of Savica waterfall. Once there I turned up the hill, towards the Black lake, which was a 1200m straight-up climb - the climb is a difficult one and only recommended for experienced mountain climbers. From there I went to Vogar, and from Vogar back down to Stara Fuzina, and another lap around the lake. Combining hiking and running, I managed the hardest physical endurance test of my life in 4h.11min. The total distance was 23.11 miles. The pace was not impressive, but considering it was a mountain run, I was proud all the same. To save my legs, I finished off with a swim in lake Bohinj, cold but refreshing.

I'm now in Mexico. The altitude is an issue, so I'm not sure what to expect from this Sunday run.

Paris to 23

2008-06-28T19:33:00.009-04:00

Last weekend I was in Paris. Paola and I went to celebrate the longest day of the year. Each year on this day Paris throws a massive street party -- Fete de la musique. Bands are set up all over the city and the point is to stroll from one gig to the other, dance, drink beer, and just have fun. We did this many years ago, in 2001. That year it was raining hard, which must have stopped some people from going. We drank sangria and were on the streets, and by the end of the night were stomping in puddles and mud sliding in the grass in front of Les Invalides. This year, I barely managed to get myself home, we had so much fun. The weather was warm and people were everywhere. The later it got the more people were showing up it seems, either that or I was seeing double and counting X2 for every one.

On my long run the next day - don't even ask. It was terrible. I didn't get up and out of the house until 1pm. By then the sun was scorching Paris and it was awfully humid. I set off from Champs des Mars in the direction of Trocadero, passing by Passy. From there I headed for the Arc de Triomphe and up Rue Wagram. Next came Place de Clichy, passing Pere Lachaise, where apparently Morrison is buried, and after I made the awful ascent to Mt. Martre. What a mistake. The hill took the life out of me. By now I was already out of one water bottle, short on breath and no power in my legs. On the way down I could just keep myself from falling over. For all those watching and having their lunches at the brasseries, I was probably a comical sight. On top of it, I got lost, which just added to my misery. So miserable and only on mile 8. I had 12 more to go. I somehow made it to the Bourse, managing to avoid Les Halles. That was it. I couldn't do it anymore. I had no energy and even less will to keep my feet moving. Defeated I sat on a street corner, out of the sun, and sipped on whatever water I had left.

I eventually ended up running back to the Eiffel, but it was only an additional 3 miles. Disappointed, I thought no more running for me.

Training this week in Brussels was better. I was back on my pace and back to strength, with an easy mid-week 11 mile-run.

Today was a funky day and I spent it working. I'm trying to nail a deal and the numbers just don't want to add up. Finally at 8.30PM I was so tired of it I decided to go running. It was a nice 17 degree evening. Clear skies. Brussels is very empty on the weekends, which is nice for running. Running was exactly what I needed at the end of today and I just kept going, and going, and going. The route itself wasn't exciting but it was refreshing. I knocked down the speed a little -- I'm changing my running technique to save my knees -- which kept me fresh for what seemed like a long time. I finally hit a wall, and had to stop. This was 3h.10min later. I ran 23.1 miles -- 3 short of a full marathon. When I stopped my legs started feeling funny. This slowly turned into excruciating pain. My body went into a chill and I couldn't stop shivering. I eventually recovered in the shower under hot water, I think just in time to prevent Paola from calling the ambulance. :)

The next one is the full deal.

Post-Soviet running: Baku, Moscow, St. Petersburg

2008-06-21T08:19:00.002-04:00

Baku is the capital of Azerbaijan, a new oil rich Caspian state. The city is being reborn. Everywhere you look there is construction staring you in the eyes. Azerbaijan is part of the European Neighborhood, and Baku in some ways, is the new east gates of Europe. It is the new energy center of the region and an alternative supplier for Europe.

Running in Baku is best if done in the morning, before the traffic picks up. 8AM is the cut off point. The drivers are ruthless and many of the cars are still the old Soviet types. The fumes they emit will give you a high – I don’t even want to think about what that means for the lungs.

I took off at 5.45AM from the Park Hyatt hotel for my 10 miles mid-week run. It was a quiet morning, like every morning in Baku. I went straight up Inshaatchilar Ave. (which is the street that goes slightly uphill from the hotel). From there I passed the Huseyn Javid Square and took Zahid Khalilov Str. to Matruat Ave. By now I was on the top of a hill, passing the AZTV headquarters. The view of the city underneath is fantastic. The day was just beginning, which made Baku seem quite innocent and soft, a major contrast to its daytime buzz. At some point I stumbled upon the Turkish Square, which is a nice park overlooking the Caspian Sea and Baku bay. A long set of stairs lead to Mehdi Huseyn St. From there you can connect with any of the perpendicular streets to end up at the Old City. I ran around it to Neftchilar Ave. This is Baku’s ocean beach drive. The sun was rising now. It was a perfect sunrise and I felt great. Basking in the sun, I thought about Europe and Azerbaijan. Integrating this strategic country into the EU makes so much sense on the one hand, but the prospect of this ever happening is so far away. Forgetting Azerbaijan would be a huge strategic blunder.

I made a u-turn at the Government House and tried to retrace my steps. It wasn’t a perfect go-back plan, but I managed to get to the hotel somehow – 11 miles later with a decent pace of 7.23 / mile. The next day I did the treadmill at the hotel gym and found out that my pedometer is off by half a K for every 10K. Frustrating.

Two days later we were in incredible Moscow. The city is flooded with glitter, hot cars, chicks in high-heels, and people generally looking good and feeling good. I set off running from my hotel on Tverskaya Street. I was looking for a comfortable 5 mile run; I returned 20 miles later, exhausted and dehydrated. At points I was so lost, I began to wonder whether I’d left Moscow city-center. I had no money on me to take a taxi and those that I asked for directions kept sending me in opposite ways. “Kuda Kremlin?” I would ask. People looked at me like I was crazy – maybe because I was running and sweaty and dirty; maybe because I was asking for directions to something that everyone knows where to find; or maybe because I was using Borut’s Russian speak, which really is more Croatian than Russian.

The fact that people were waiting for me to go to the Kremlin’s Armory museum kept me moving fast. In the end I did 19.80 miles in a little over 2h24min, with an average pace of 7.29m/h.

Making it through the museum was a nightmare after the run. My legs felt like they would explode, but I felt I owed it to Paola who was waiting for me at the hotel for over two hours. Anyhow, I ended up enjoying inspecting some of the treasures of the last Russian Czar and his family. The museum has an excellent armory room, with a collection from the Ottomans, Russians and Europeans armies. There is also a section displaying the famous Faberge eggs, which in their own right are impressive.

We met up with the Slovenian Ambassador that evening and his lovely wife, and together went to watch La Bayadere, a ballet performed by the Bolshoi. A masterpiece, and a must see, I think. The theater itself is less of a treat right now given that they are still renovating the main theater. After the performance we treated ourselves to a cocktail on the rooftop of the Ritz Carlton hotel. The view of the Kremlin is breathtaking. Well worth the experience (and the expense!). Standing there looking at the Red Square, on my second day in Moscow, I felt this was a country on the rise. The raw capitalism on display in Moscow is something I’ve never seen, anywhere. The country is getting richer and Russians are putting it on display. It’s a different Russia than I imagined.

The next day we found ourselves in St. Petersburg, a city of eternal sunshine during its month of summer. I set off for my Sunday 13 miles at 9.30PM. The sun was still high up, and had I not been on the running, I’d still be chilling in one of the street bars, drinking a cold beer and wearing my sunglasses. I took off from my hotel next to the Kazan Cathedral towards the river, passing St. Isaac’s cathedral. Once at the river, I turned left and crossed the last bridge over. The run on the other side was less inspiring. It was mostly through residential parts of St. Petersburg. On the way back I passed the fortress of Peter the Great, the Hermitage museum, and the Palace Square. I made it back to the hotel just after passing the Church of the Savior on the Spilled Blood. I managed an average speed of 7.11 minutes/mile.

The energy of St. Petersburg seems eternal, and so do the tourists that crowd the streets. The last part can be a bit annoying, frankly. The food is excellent at Terrassa, a rooftop restaurant above Vanity store – everything with salmon and caviar was delicious. For a true Petersburg experience you must treat yourself to a beer from one of the street vendors. The locals sip it 24/7- I guess it’s a way of getting through the insomnia inducing white nights.

Istanbul

2008-06-08T09:27:00.008-04:00

Running up the left bank of the Bosporus, in the direction of the Black Sea, you are on the fringe of Europe. Across the canal is Asia, and the two halves of Istanbul -- European and Asian sides -- are connected with nothing more than two suspension bridges.

As I was getting ready to depart for my week's long run, I though great, I'm in Istanbul, one of my favorite cities. Like New York, Istanbul is a city that never sleeps and is always crowded. There is no way to run the city streets -- which is well worth it -- unless you can get out of bed early, at 5AM so that you can hit the streets by 5.30.

I took off on Saturday morning from hotel Anemon, which is next door to Galata Kulesi. Turning up the street I connected with Istiklal -- during the day and at night this is Istanbul's busiest pedestrian street. When I got to Taksim square, I turned, passing the Galatsaray football stadium. Connecting with Dolmabache (this turns into Besiktas) I continued running north, towards the Black Sea. The run through this area is awesome. You pass the Dolmabache Palace and a collection of pictures of Ataturk. The Domabache Palace itself is an impressive structure with walls stretching for almost a full kilometer.

By now I was enjoying my run. When I crossed under the first suspension bridge the road narrowed and connected with the waterfront. Alone amongst the fishermen and the street dogs, I was probably the only one out there for recreation. The street dogs were a problem earlier in the run -- one kept running circles around me, bumping into my legs, crossing the street when I would. For a while the dog was frustrating me, but eventually, I let it go, and he got tired of running next to me.

By 6.30 I'd been on the road for an hour. I was very thirsty because of the humidity and the hot air, and I needed an energy boost. I drank my water and sipped my energy gel.

Having restocked on electrolytes, my legs started to give more push. I headed towards Bebek and the second suspension bridge, and from there to Tarabya -- a friend of mine lives here. I thought about stopping by to say hi, but it was early and she could still have been sleeping, and anyways, I didn't want to interrupt my effort to reach my 18-mile goal. I passed Tarabya. I was now running on Haydar Aliyev road. I reached Haydar Aliyev park soon after that. This was a good point to make my U-turn and head back towards Galata. Mile 18 came way before I was back at the hotel. I stopped running. My right knee was bothering me and I had no water left. I sat down to watch the fishermen do their thing. My gaze was fixed across the Bosporus on Asia. I was thinking about the European Union and Turkey's bid to join. I thought about borders.

I ran for 2h and 15min, at an average pace of 7.29 minutes per mile.

Ljubljana running at pace

2008-06-05T19:18:00.007-04:00

Yesterday I felt great. My journalist friend, an undercover marathoner, and I set off on a 10 mile run at about 7pm. We headed off in the direction of Roznik. About two miles into our run, we were hit by a downpour. At first it bothered me, but slowly the rain started to feel good on my face. It was helping me stay cool though I did worry about my wet sneakers, which were soaked and started to feel heavy. Adding weight to my feet put additional pressure on my knees, and my right knee started to hurt. It's been bothering me slightly still today. Coming off Roznik, we headed in the direction of the Mons hotel, and linked-up with the foot path that encircles Ljubljana -- the sign to look for is POT, which in Slovenian means path. We picked up our pace at mile 6. By mile 7 we were doing 7 minute-a-mile intervals. Well into the runner's high, we pushed harder. Unfortunatey my iPod-Nike pedometer stopped working; it was probably an issue with it being tucked into my shorts instead of gripped to my arm. Once we started heading back towards Ljubljana city center, my stomach was severely upset. I felt like throwing up. It was all the "student food" (a mix of nuts and raisins) I had 1h before the run, and the not-so-good slice of pizza. Eating so close to running doesn't work for me, especially when running at pace. But having company on the run made it easier to push through. It took me all night to get my stomach back in shape, and hydration became an issue as well - my stomach wouldn't allow anything in. I was even thinking of going to the ER to get one of those IV drips hooked up just so I could get hydrated. Instead, I went to my parent's house and went to sleep. I woke up today feeling a lot better and drank a full liter of water first thing in the morning.

Ljubljana magic

2008-06-03T18:53:00.006-04:00

I normally don't run more than 5 miles on Tuesdays. Today I went running around Roznik, the five mile radius forest in the center of Ljubljana. Again, I started off achy. But the more I ran, the better I felt. Today at the office I was agitated and had a hard time focusing. Once I hit mile 5 I couldn't stop. I just wanted to keep on going. The more I ran, the easier it got, the more fun I had. From mile 6 to 10 it was pure pleasure. I had the runner's high. I clocked in at 1h 10min with an average pace of 7.07 per mile. At the end, I was left in a good mood, at least for that short while.

running in the capital of Europe

2008-06-02T12:03:00.005-04:00

We flew into Brussels on Friday morning from New York, arriving early at 9am. The weather was typical Brussels - overcast. Except it was also a lot cooler than what we had in New York. Arriving in Brussels I had a few meetings. But business is slower nowadays, which could be due to the global economic slowdown, or I have gotten smarter and don't load my schedule each day with unnecessary meetings. I've become a big believer in doing things over email or teleconference whenever possible.

Lucky, Friday is my recovery day, so I didn't have to go running upon arriving in Brussels. I couldn't have. My legs were still sore from the Wednesday night run, which was a fast pace 11 mile run from my apartment in Chelsea New York along the West Highway, into the FiDi (financial district) and over the Brooklyn Bridge. My good friend and college roommate Will H. Chancellor joined me. His name is so freaking British -- I'll let you all guess what the H stands for -- but the kid is prime time Texas bread. Don't hold it against him; he's a great guy, and will soon be a famous writer.

Running across the Brooklyn bridge was awesome. First, the bridge is older than my great grandfather. Built in 1883, the bridge is one of the oldest suspension bridges in the US, connecting Manhattan on the east side with Brooklyn. It's one of the major traffic links for New Yorkers commuting in and out of Manhattan. The bridge is double layered, and it has a pedestrian section that passes through its middle. This makes it possible and pleasant to cross, except when you are walking or running across it, watch out for the bikers. They share the same section as the pedestrians, and they make it their business to try to run-over as many airy tourists as possible. I almost got nailed by a biker the other day. I didn't see him coming through the crowd but I did hear him screaming, move asshole. Part of living in New York is that scenes like this are standard daily experiences. You just get used to it and you roll with it.

Once you get over to the Brooklyn side of the bridge, a floor sign at the the foot of the bridge reads "Welcome to Brooklyn." There's no such sign on the Manhattan side, but this is the point. Brooklyn is patriotic.

Back in Brussels, the city dynamic is very different. The atmosphere feels sleepy, old and a bit uptight. It doesn't have the hustle and the buzz of New York. I woke up late on Sunday - much later than I wanted to for my long run. Our Brussels apartment/office is on Rue Gachard, which is just of Avenue Louise and a few blocks from Place Flagey . Place Flagey is a great area, with a lot of open plaza space, a number of great little restaurants -- we ate on Saturday at Aglio e Olio, an Italian prima cucina, which I highly recommend if you're half as crazy about pasta as I am. Their linguini con vongole is superb, and the house wine is great too. Go for the red. Flagey also has a lot of good beer stalls, but these are almost everywhere in Brussels, which is something I love about the city -- the excellent beer. Any bar you're in, order a blanche, you can't miss.

I set off for my 17 mile run (that's about 27.37 KM) along the lakes of Ixelles. The lakes begin at the foot of Place Flagey and continue up for about a half a mile. The first thing I noticed was the Sunday farmers market which they had set-up. The crates full of strawberries and the bread loafs reminded me how hungry I was, forgetting to eat before leaving the apartment. From the lakes, I turned to the streets and headed up towards Avenue F. Roosevelt, and from there to the park Bois de la Cambre. Running in the park felt good. I was away from the cars, and everyone around me was doing something sporty. It made me feel better being out on this run, which started off quite bad. My legs felt heavy.

From the Bois de la Cambre I jogged back to the road, connecting with Avenue Delleur, which becomes Boulevard du Souverain. This took me in a long circle around the outskirts of Brussels. I passed a number of open markets, and ended up at the footsteps of Avenue de Tervueren, having passed park Woluwe. Avenue de Tervueren is close on Sundays to traffic. Pedestrians take it over. Kids running around, dogs jumping at your feet. You can buy fresh produce, ethnic products, toys, watch shows and eat sausages, frittes, and waffles. All is there, and beer, on Avenue de Tervueren. I thought, I should come here when I'm not running to enjoy the show.

Avenue de Tervueren falls into the Cinquantenaire park, passing under the Belgian Arc de Triomphe, from where I headed for the European Council -- the Schuman building which for the next month will still display on its front face the symbol of the Slovenian EU Presidency. Slovenia has for the past five months been in charge of the EU. Once I was at the Schuman building, it was only 1.5 miles back to Flagey. A lap around the lakes and the voice on my new iPod said -- congratulations, you've completed your longest run yet. It was Lance Armstrong's voice. I was proud. I did it in 2h 8 min at an average pace of 7.34 min/mile.

from Maryland to Virginia through DC

2008-06-02T11:46:00.009-04:00

...another killer Sunday run is behind me now. It was hard getting up this morning thinking I have to run 15 miles (multiply this by 1.6 to get KM), especially since yesterday I ran 7M in the morning in New York and then another 4M in Washington DC just before we headed off for a wedding.

The wedding was slow but nice, and I was anyhow too busy adoring my wife in her amazing orange dress and thinking about the run.

I set off this morning at 9am from Bethesda, on the Georgetown trail, thinking what a nice change from running in Manhattan between buildings and yellow cabs, which are always ready to run you over if the opportunity presents itself. Life on the Manhattan streets is tough, and as my friend B said, ride the bike in the opposite direction from the traffic.

I can't quite figure out the taxis in New York. I'm from the Balkans and I know a few things about aggressive driving, but man, these guys are altogether on a different planet. I can only think of one other city where driving is aggressive -- try crossing a street in Baku, Azerbaijan.

Descending on the trail I hit the canal -- it's a small water shoulder of the Potomac river probably used to control water levels and prevent floods down lower in Georgetown -- at which point I turned to the right heading towards Georgetown and the Virginia bridge. I crossed the bridge into Virginia and continued along the Potomac river toward the Reagan National Airport. I really enjoy it for the planes taking off above my head. I'm obsessed with planes and have been since I was a kid, which is probably why I don't mind traveling so much. At some point, I crossed over another bridge which got me back into the DC area, setting me at the footstep of the Washington Monument. I turned left and passed in front of the White House. The street was closed off due to the Harley-Davidson gathering for the Memorial Day convention. I've never seen so many bikes, dudes in leather jackets, and chicks in jeans. It was a very American sight, but it had a cool look to it. Something that I love about the U.S. is the love for "cruising." Growing up in Abu Dhabi I too developed a love for driving.

Once I hit the Kennedy Center I knew I was almost done. From there it was a 10 minute run back into Georgetown where I met up with my wife, who did her own 8M run today. Most impressive. She's running so great; I never thought it.

I stopped at 16.43M (about 26.3KM), which I completed in just over 2h and 5min. Having crossed two States, Maryland and Virginia, and the District, Pao and I headed over for coffee/recovery session at the Slovenian Ambassador's residence. His terrace is the best place in Washington DC to have an Iced Latte on a Sunday afternoon, and if you need some recovery sports gels, be sure to stop by there.