Real enjoyment

This past Saturday, in talking with my sister, I learned that one of my nephews has decided to take his training to a new level. Without going into too many of the details, he very much wants to improve his competitive swimming but feels that three practices per week offers insufficient pool time to realize his full potential. And so, recently, he approached the front desk of his local swimming pool to request an open swim schedule and purchase a book of drop-in passes. He has committed himself to swimming two times per week -- before school at 6:30 am or so -- on his own and in addition to his usual club practices. Did I mention that my nephew is just shy of ten years old?

As his running, swimming, and cycling aunt, I beamed with pride to hear my sister tell me this, and I sincerely hope that both of them stick to their new plan (because, of course, his ability to make a morning pool time will depend on her ability and willingness to get up earlier than usual to drive him to the pool). My sister’s life is, to put it mildly, extremely hectic, and so I can’t say I’ll blame her if this new commitment ends up falling through the cracks. Nevertheless, I applaud my nephew for even suggesting an increase in his training intensity, and I’m delighted that he’s enjoying swimming as much as he is (and so, too, is my other nephew, who recently told me, “I finally found the sport that I really, really, really enjoy”).

The truth is, though, if my nephews are enjoying swimming as much as they claim to be, then extra swim practices and early mornings probably don’t feel like work at all. Training can almost become the opposite of work and, indeed (in the adult world at least), relief from work. I know this feeling well. Tonight on my calendar, for example, I have a work party (complete with dinner and drinks) at a swanky Manhattan location. Unfortunately, though, I missed my scheduled eight miler this morning, and so I am faced with the choice of: (a) missing this run altogether (unheard of); (b) shuffling around my runs for this week to try to accommodate it elsewhere (annoying); or, (c) skipping the party and heading to that other Manhattan hot spot, Central Park. I have opted for (c). Though I was a bit nervous to reveal to my co-workers my reason for missing tonight’s party, I found that everyone I told had the same reaction: “That makes sense. That’s a very good reason to skip the party.” I guess my co-workers understand that it’s the one thing I really, really, really enjoy.

A place to hang my shower cap

Recently I pondered what it would be like to hold a job in which I was required to be at work at 7 am and in which the typical week would consist of 60 to 70 hours at the office. Such routines are not at all unusual in New York; in fact, I am one of the lucky few to hold a Manhattan job that offers excellent work-life balance. A few weeks ago, though, I had an appointment that required me to be up at 6 am and on the M5 bus by 7 am, and I knew I wouldn't return home before 7 pm that evening. My day was spoken for before it even began.

As the bus rounded Columbus Circle and made its way along Central Park South, I caught a glimpse of several runners in the Park who were ticking off an early morning workout. Although I had been in the Park the day prior and knew I would be there again the next, I still felt a twinge of envy. Looking around the bus, it was apparent that at least three-quarters of my fellow riders were getting exercise of a different kind: strength training in the form of hauling files to and from the office; aerobic exercise in the form of furious BlackBerry typing; cross-training in the form of simultaneous cell phone text messaging. I couldn't help but think, Is the career and (assuming one is so lucky) the bonus worth it? Do these things compensate for the sardine-tin-sized apartments, the sticky subways, the crowds, and, for many, the need to work long hours (because if you don't want to, someone else is eager to take your place)?

Sometimes (frequently) Zdenek and I ponder these questions, typically during Sunday afternoon strolls along Central Park's bridle path, chai lattes in hand. While I don't have to put in hours at the office worthy of a banker or lawyer, there's some truth to Zdenek's lament that our New York lifestyles are barely one step up from our student days. Apparently, other people agree: an old friend who visited me a couple of years ago once commented that there is "no way" she could live "like this" (meaning, in my apartment). True, it would be nice to have a washing machine at home -- in ten years, I've had the luxury of a W/D (for the New York real estate crowd) for only one year, and that was in Toronto -- but Sunday evening laundromat trips provide an opportunity to fit in a weight lifting session at the gym around the corner while the wash cycle runs. Yes, it would sometimes be nice to have a car to escape the city, but then I think about the associated traffic, gas, and repair bills, and I suddenly don't miss it anymore. And I am the first to admit that our Upper West Side apartment leaves a bit to be desired:

• I have no closet for my clothes and I actually have to dust off my blazers before I wear them;
• Our bedroom furniture is plastic (and marked up with packing tape to boot);
• I must discard old articles of clothing (or shoes or purses) before I have room to store new ones;
• Our "garage" consists of a set of golf clubs, a few tennis rackets, our bike helmets and other accessories, along with our bikes, and it's right next to our dining table (I would say "kitchen table" or "dining room table," but either would be an overstatement);
  
• The IKEA kitchen cart next to our front door holds everything from today's mail to cookbooks to umbrellas to pots and pans;
• Our bedroom boils every summer without a dedicated air conditioner (the room is actually too small for one to work effectively);
• Our living room freezes every winter as drafts rush in around that room's window A/C (we'd remove it for the winter, but then we'd have nowhere to put it);
• And every morning, Zdenek (I am too short) has to hang a green shower cap (it doesn't have to be green, but it happens to be) over our "hallway" (2'x1.5') smoke detector while we shower -- without the cap, the hot steam escaping from the bathroom will incessantly set off the alarm.

(I wanted to post a few photos of our house of horrors, but Zdenek forbade me.)

Despite all of that, I rarely, if ever, find myself pining for a "real" house, a car, or the latest fashion accessory (or somewhere to store it). To me, these things offer only maintenance headaches and/or fleeting satisfaction. I think I learned long ago that, if I'm forced to choose, I am more about "experiences" than "things." (Zdenek almost had this figured out when, on our first Christmas as a married couple, he didn't buy me a gift but rather presented me with a book of coupons for monthly massages at "Spa Zdenek." I was thrilled! Unfortunately, every time I tried to redeem a coupon over the next twelve months, I found the spa to be closed or the masseur too tired. He's since gone back to taking me shopping.) I know that I will end up in a foul mood if I miss more than two days of running if it's due to no other reason than lack of time. I live half a mile from the greatest city playground in the world. I have a fantastic bike mechanic shop only two blocks from my front door, and an equally fantastic running store only one block further. I can walk to work. I spend next to no time commuting, which leaves me plenty of extra time for running, cycling, or sleeping. And a car ride has never once made me smile, but a bike ride is guaranteed to leave me grinning. (And to be honest, I laugh out loud every morning when the shower cap is put in place, and I remind myself daily that I am one of the luckiest people on earth, closet or no closet.)

Someday, I'll probably catch up with the Joneses and I will find myself driving my car into my garage and then walking into my house (and I'll be able to wear high heels doing it, too, because walking miles each day will be a distant memory). But I'm not certain it will make me any happier. Indeed, over the last ten years my disposable income has risen and I have been able to afford more "things," but I'd be hard pressed to tell you what they are or how they made me feel. I could, however, go on for hours about the feeling of pride I get from a good run or the sense of satisfaction I earn after a solid bike ride.

In fact, I could write a blog about it.

Six good reasons

In spite of all the work I have to do, and even considering that I could have used more sleep this week than I have obtained thus far, I am in an extraordinarily good mood right now.

1. It appears that I may be close to tying out a major project (or, at the very least, the first iteration of it) that has been a long time in coming.

2. It is a beautiful, sunny, warm autumn day!

3. I had a super-duper fun time riding my bike today and yesterday, and an equally super-duper fun time running on Tuesday. In fact, Tuesday night's run in the unseasonably warm fall weather was smokin' fast (for me), and all of my troubles seemed to melt away in the first 1/2 mile. Our bike rides yesterday and this morning required only booties, and we're taking it a bit easier, enjoying the scents and sights of fall in Central Park.

4. There is only one more day until the weekend.

5. There is only one more weekend until the New York City marathon!

6. My salad at lunch was delicious, and the deli guy gave me a sixth topping for free (I chose asparagus).

In orbit

Last night Zdenek and I watched a fascinating Nova episode called "Monster of the Milky Way." As we learned, there is likely a large (but not too large) black hole at the center of our galaxy. Luckily, our black hole is mostly in a "famine" state right now, and so it's not gobbling up everything around it and emitting harmful radiation in the process; it'll be another 10 million years at least before we all need to be wearing x-ray shields. Astronomers inferred the existence of our galactic black hole by tracking the velocities of stars orbiting the galactic center. As the stars approach the black hole, the immense gravitational pull speeds them up and whips them around on their elliptical orbits.

One of the questions that Zdenek and I pondered as we watched this show (and kept pausing it to argue -- it was like the blind leading the blind) was why orbits are so often elliptical rather than circular (although, to be fair, a circle is merely one form of an ellipse in with both axes are equal). My quick scan of the internet last night pulled up no satisfactory answers. Fortunately, I happen to work with dozens of PhD-level physicists, one of whom, in fact, previously studied and simulated the structure of the universe. Even better, he sits only four offices down the hall from me. As I suspected, he was indeed able to provide me with a clear explanation of how elliptical orbits are formed and why they persist, and he reassured me that the sun will likely burn out before we'll get eaten by a black hole. Apparently we have two or three billion years to go.

All of this is good news, because I'm supposed to be embarking on an elliptical orbit of my own on Saturday, and it would be unfortunate if some black hole or dying sun impeded my travels. We are heading home, and I can't wait. Leading up to this trip, I've been putting in as much running and cycling as I can find time for. It's been eleven days of consecutive runs or rides thus far, and my legs are starting to feel the burn. I keep pushing just a little bit more, though, because there awaits a ten day stretch during which cycling will be impossible and running will be limited.

Zdenek and I have commented several times in the last few weeks that only in the current economic climate would he have so much time for so much non-work-related activity. We keep watching and waiting, wondering when something big might happen to change our orbit, but in the meantime, we're taking full advantage. One might say that we're circling a black hole of our own right now, but so long as it doesn't gobble us up altogether, it only serves to make us go faster.

The Great Unwind

Some time ago, when the sky began falling over Wall Street and, soon thereafter, the rest of the world, my husband predicted that this financial crisis and its aftermath would someday be referred to as "The Great Unwind" (as in, the unwinding of the many complicated and leveraged positions that got us into this mess in the first place). I work only indirectly with the financial sector, so I can't be sure that this term isn't currently being used as routinely as Zdenek predicted, but I don't think that it is (rather, "The Great Recession" seems to be the term in vogue).

In any case, the past few days for Zdenek and me have been full of turmoil and excitement, and it seems that he and I are undergoing our own Great Unwind. At long last, we are due to become direct victims of this Great Recession. Living in New York City, we've been in the middle of the action from day one, but aside from it becoming somewhat easier to make a restaurant reservation, we haven't been personally impacted. Until now. One could say that our position in this city is unwinding (and rather quickly indeed, but then again, things never move slowly in New York).

It's somewhat surprising that, in spite of the fact that Zdenek and I are unwinding (or rather, being forcefully unwound), we're relatively nonchalant about it. This is partly attributable to the fact that we know that we'll be okay in the short-term and we'll land on our feet in the long-term, which provides some comfort. But we've also found a daily ritual in our bike rides and runs, and we're spending more time together than we ever have in pursuit of fast times, tired legs, and post-workout beers. Indeed, there seems to be a nationwide trend towards increasing training in the face of decreasing employment (though I wouldn't go so far as to say that we are, or will be, "funemployed").

When the going gets tough, as it has been for some time and as it no doubt will continue to be, we'll continue to tough it out by either lacing up our running shoes or escaping on two wheels. It is our daily unwind, and it feels great.

It's comfortable in the middle

We spend a lot of our time celebrating success. We admire those who work hard to reach the top of their respective games, we strive to do the same, and we tend to spend a lot of time lamenting the fact that we haven't achieved enough. Or at least I do. In spite of my attempts on this blog to put things in perspective and focus on finding silver linings, I am definitely a "glass is half empty" kind of girl. Living in the Big Apple, it's hard to not constantly compare myself to others who are better educated, more successful, further ahead in their careers, more ambitious, etc. The list goes on.

I have one friend who has worked for the same company since graduation. He is smart, capable, and very good at his job. But he's always resistant to taking on more responsibility at work and, indeed, has made every attempt to actively avoid any managerial responsibilities. I've always thought this was amusing, and somewhat strange, too. Who wouldn't want recognition at work and to take on everything the job has to offer?

I am neither a mover nor a shaker. I don't run a company, I don't negotiate multi-billion dollar transactions, and I'm definitely not -- to borrow a title coined by Michael Lewis in "Liar's Poker" -- a BSD. Nevertheless, over the last few years, my status on the totem pole has risen ever-so-slightly, and the realm of my responsibility has grown just a tad. This is good because it is, after all, my goal. Right?

But with responsibility comes, well, responsibility. As it happens, my small area of responsibility is up against a pretty tight deadline, which happens to fall over this weekend. It is thus with disappointment, but perhaps simple resignation, that I find myself forced to cancel my weekend trip to Canada that I have had planned since October. I probably won't be tied to my desk in New York all weekend, and I hope to take advantage of the good weather to cycle a lot, enjoy my dinners al fresco, and generally relax, but still, I'd rather be elsewhere.

And so, I give a shout-out to all the middle-of-the-packers who aim to finish, not win; to those who do a good job at their jobs, but don't worry that they might not be doing enough; and to anyone who doesn't necessarily wish for more because they're "just fine, thank you very much!"

Three cheers for mediocrity!

Backs and backsides

Although I complained to Zdenek yesterday that my butt hurt after our first cycle of the season (and to which, to my annoyance, he replied that he felt fine), I didn't really think twice about heading out again this morning. I have an out-of-town trip planned for Friday, so I need to squeeze in as many cycling days as possible between now and Thursday. All seemed to be going okay this morning until we actually got on our bikes, at which point our tushes felt like tender, bruised patches of flesh being punched over and over again by hard, unforgiving saddles. (Turns out that Zdenek's butt actually was sore!) I was certain that I would have to do the whole ride standing up, but, fortunately, it numbed completely by the time we reached the Park.

Three workouts in 24 hours has taken a bit of a toll on my body, and with Zdenek pushing the pace today, it was a pretty rough 40 minutes for me. Towards the end of our second loop, I complained to him that we seem only to ever have one pace, and that we don't know the pleasure of riding leisurely. He reminded me of one weekend ride last summer when we were about 20 miles away from home, heading through the Palisades in New Jersey, when my nagging knee injury (caused by my then ill-fitted bike) finally forced me stop pedaling. My valiant husband, eager to help me but even more desperate to get home, cycled beside me, hand on my back, pushing me uphill for several miles until I could pedal again. I'm not sure that's how I would define a "leisurely" ride, but it is comforting to know that my husband always has my back.

I'm meant to be flying to Canada this weekend to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my good friend, Heather. I am blessed with a very tight group of girlfriends -- the five of us have been together since high school, but several of us have friendships extending back even further than that. We're throwing a stagette for the bride-to-be at Jessica's cabin in BC this coming weekend. The girls and I haven't spent quality time together since goodness-knows-when; the last time we were all in the same place for a night was in 1999, a few weeks before I moved to England. This would be a 10 year reunion of sorts, and I'd be loathe to miss it. (As you can see from the photo, whenever we get together, there's always some unexpected fun.) The girls have done a lot of planning and work for this weekend; all I have to do is fly in. I count myself blessed to have such organized, generous, and supportive friends.

Unfortunately, this week at work is shaping up to be no less hectic than the last. I'm desperately hoping that I will, in fact, still be able to make the trip come Friday, and that I'm not forced to cancel last-minute because of the deadlines with which I'm dealing. I am lucky, however, to work with a talented and motivated group of individuals, several of whom are now scrambling to enable me with some sort of remote international broadband access for this weekend so that I may have my cake and eat it, too.

I'm not sure how this week will shape up when all is said and done, but it seems that every time I stop to consider it, there are people all around me -- family, friends, coworkers -- who have my back. My butt, however, must fend for itself.

Advice worth taking

I'm flying out for the marathon tomorrow morning. Race day is Sunday, and so far the weather forecast looks mixed. The temperature sounds about right for running (10 degrees Celsius with partly cloudy skies), but they're calling for strong winds. Having run in similar conditions in the Virginia Beach Shamrock Marathon in 2008, I can attest that this is not really ideal for energy conversation. On top of it all, my throat is still a bit swollen and sore, and I'm having a rather stressful day at work today. So it was somewhat amusing when my coworker, Jim, upon my telling him that I was having a crazy day and really needed to find a way to relax, gave me this advice: "You should go for a run!"

'nuf said.