Blog-in-One: All those entries I didn't write.

So. It's been awhile, huh? That whole blogging-about-ordinary-life thing really went well for me, right? I guess I forgot about the insane busyness of ordinary life. The kind of busyness where you aren't entirely sure what is making you so busy; all you know is that you feel like you are at a constant sprint because the finish line is always in sight, but somehow you never cross it. And next thing you know, you are getting up again--far too early, I might add--to do it all again...

I would have said that, even amidst all the busyness, not much has happened since my last blog entry. Just a lot of work. A lot of biking, a moderate amount of swimming, a bit of running... Definitely nothing big or life-changing. But when I sat down and thought about it the other day, I realized that some things have happened. Fairly significant things, surely at least blog-worthy. Life changing? Well... who knows.

I think that at this stage of my life (my whole 24 years, I know) I have realized the futility of trying to attempt to predict the events that may or may not be life-changing. Any event is, in fact, a part of life, and thus has the potential to make an impact. And I'm starting to think that the course of one's life is usually directed, not in a few huge, Emmaus-Road-type moments, but in a whole bunch of small, subtle, seemingly insignificant decisions and seemingly random occurances. Who knows.

Anyways, back to the point: what's been going on since the last time I wrote? Well, enough that the events would have made quite a few nice, short, manageable little blog entries. But since I don't want to overwhelm you too much with all the humble events of my last few months, I'm going to revert to good ol' list format. And I'll try to be brief--with the knowledge of how my attempts at brevity usually go...

Bearathon: My first half marathon. I mostly signed up for this to ensure that I would start running again. Since running is part of triathlon. But I wasn't sure how I would feel about this race--or about such a looong race. Well, it was shockingly fun! I couldn't walk normally for a week after--meh, small details.

Austin to Shiner: My first century (100-mile) bike ride. Another attempt at triathlon training. Thought I should get some base training on the bike since I am completely new at it. So, why not do a century? And how to choose which century? Well...which one has the best after party? The one that ends at the Spoetzel Brewery in Shiner, TX, obviously.

Re-enchanted: My family's spur-of-the moment trip to New Mexico. This obviously could have been its own post. The mere fact that I'm an aunt again could have been its own post. Anyways, Mom, Dad, and I took a very short road trip to NM to see my brother and his (now bigger) family. It was really nice to spend time with them. Mom and I also got to ride our bikes for a few miles of my friend's cross country biking trip! Pictures, here:

Auntie Calah Strikes Again

Bisiklet Shiprock (for Haiti)

Lifeguards don't just sit in charis: My first (two) saves. I know you all thought that my main job description as a lifeguard is to model my super-duper-stylish fanny pack. But there is so much more to my job. Namely, saving lives...

Who needs a wet suit? My first triathlon. In early May, Mom and I did a sprint triathlon north of Dallas. The water was cold and we were among the few participants that didn't have wet suits. But we survived. Moreover, I have become another statistic: I am addicted. (Note: since the time I started this post a month ago, I have done my second tri. Yesterday, in fact. Olympic distance this time--it's a whole different animal.... Yep, still addicted, though.)

Old friends, new town: My first trip to Seattle. I decided way back in January that if I was going to stay in Waco all spring, I deserved a vacation. My friends Christina and Jeff decided to get married, partly with the intention of giving me a great excuse to go to the Northwest--somewhere I have always wanted to spend time, but hadn't gotten to experience yet. It was fun to see some friends who I hadn't seen in years (literally) and to run (literally) all around Seattle. I also got to see Ali and do the things we used to do in Viet Nam (talk, drink tea, talk, eat, talk, etc.) but not in Viet Nam. Not that I was really worried, but it was nice to know that we like each other as much in the USA. :)

And there are, of course, the less tangible things that have happened. The ones that don't fit into nice lists. Like feelings and relationships and frustration and growth and learning about life and silly (and serious) conversations with my parents. The things that are always there, no matter what is "happening." Maybe I'll try to be better about this blogging thing, because more frequent blogging allows better for inclusion of those intangibles. And isn't it the intangibles that are really the point?

I mean, don't hold your breath. We all know how it went the last time I said I would be better about blogging. But...Hey, I've missed you guys. :)

a hall of a time.

Last Saturday morning, I ran my first race in a year and a half. Afterwards--as some of you may be interested (or jealous) to know--I hung out with Ryan and Sara Hall.

The 5k was fun (!) though not particularly fast. Considering my inconsistant and/or minimal training over the last year and a half, I was pleased with the effort. It was especially enjoyable because my mom made a last-minute decision to run it too, thus making her 5k debut. It was a good one as, much to her surprise, she was the top in her age group. As the run was a charity, half of the proceeds of which went to support Fuzzy Friends Animal Rescue, the prizes were designed with this theme in mind. Here is a picture of Mom and me sporting our "bone-tie" first-place medals:

The other half of the proceeds went to the Hall Steps Foundation, and the Halls themselves appeared at the event to advocate their charity, which they founded with the aim of making small "Steps" toward fighting gobal poverty. (For those of you who don't know, Ryan Hall is an Olympian and the top American marathoner these days. His wife, Sara, is also an international-caliber distance runner, though she sticks to the shorter distances between a mile and 5k, and hasn't made it to the Olympics (yet).)

Anyways, after the race those of us who paid a little more got the opportunity to go for a 5-mile training run with the Halls and then to eat brunch with them. So, I ran with Ryan and Sara, talked with Sara about living in Viet Nam and my upcoming (soon!) trip to Haiti, and listened to other people ask training questions. I found the Halls to be very down-to-earth and personable people who are passionate about what they do and what/who they do it for.

The whole thing was a bit strange for me. It was so reminiscent of the running-obsessed life I used to live. In some sense, it was easy to slip right back into it for a moment, but on the other hand, it seemed foreign and distant--I felt like more of a passive observer than an active participant. It was kind of like how my version of culture shock felt: strangely familiar. Furthermore, the experience was bitter-sweet, as it brought back to mind many of the hopes and dreams I used to run after so passionately; which I was willing to put incredible amounts of hard work, time, and dedication into; which I immensely enjoyed pursuing; and of which my self-labeled "failure" to acheive ultimately put me off of running and the entire sport for a while.


Thus, hearing Ryan and Sara talk about how they feel they have been given a gift and want to use it as a platform, but also how much they enjoy their lives as professional runners brought back some of those mixed emotions at the moment (but also profound respect for the couple and what they are doing). However, as I pondered my feelings later, I began to sort throught them.


My mourning of the end of my college running career isn't so much about running, but about focused passion. What I miss is not the act of running, or even of competing, or even being on a team. It is knowing my place and enjoying it. It is passionately working toward a goal. So my attempt over the past year to disassociate my identity from running has left me, at times, feeling meaningless and passionless--not a nice way to feel. It makes me doubt myself sometimes. I find myself wondering why, if I really am a passionate person as I believe, why I don't seem able to that one elusive thing that I am passionate about pursuing.


Yet I've had a few things remind me lately that even if there isn't always passion, there can be joy, regardless of the circumstances. When I was younger, I thought that people find one thing they are passionate about (when they are young) and do it forever. Over the past year, however, I met many people whose lives have taken surprising turns, whose careers and locations have changed often. This has been immensely encouraging.


So, while I hope I don't turn into a directionless wanderer, right now I am taking pleasure in the moments of my days instead of focusing on the results achieved in each moment. These days, my moments are rather full--helping to prepare my parents' new strawbale house for their open house party, getting up at 5am to swim, various preparations for our trip to Haiti, going to the library again, baking, running with the Halls--are often surprising (is there really such a thing as "healthy cookies?!") and have many reasons to inspire joy (I'm pretty sure my mom wore her bone-tie into Target to do her shopping after the race). :)

rim to rim...TO RIM!!!

About a week ago, my dad and I collapsed at the bottom of an informational sign about mules on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. We had started on the North Rim at 5 am that morning and completed the 23-mile rim-to-rim hike in just over 8 hrs, just a few minutes under the time we had taken to go from the South to the North two days earlier.

My parents have been doing this hike for a few years now. They meet up with a group from Trinity Mennonite Church in Phoenix, which organizes the hike. Last year, when I was skyping with my parents from Ha Noi, they raved about the hike and I decided that this year was my year--no cross country meets to stay fresh for, and as far as I knew, I would be in the country.

It worked out well because I finished my job in Colorado about a week before the hike, which gave me some time to visit my old stomping grounds around the AZ/NM border. Then my mom, dad, brother, and I were reunited for the first time in over 2 years. Mom and Brock drove our stuff from rim to rim while Dad and I hiked, and on the rest day between we all hung out at the lodge on the beautiful and less-touristy North Rim. It's a great plan--beat up your body (in a great way), do nothing for a day, beat up your body, jump into a car for a 14+ hour drive to Texas.

On the way there and back I also got to celebrate my nephew's birthday with him and eat at two of my favorite restaurants in the world. All-in-all, a great vacation.

You can check out more pictures from the trip in my facebook album here.

...tales from a transient time.

The title of this post is the new subtitle of my blog. I changed it because it fits what I anticipate the next few months of my life to be--transient.

It started with leaving Viet Nam. After a few days of debriefing in Pennsylvania, I recieved many warm welcomes in Grand Rapids, MI, where I spent two weeks. I did all manner of things there--attended bachelorette parties and bridal showers, picked berries and baked, ran and swam, hung out with friends and family, watched the friends episodes about Chandler and Monica's wedding and participated in the actual beautiful wedding of one of my best friends. The whole time I was in Grand Rapids, I was waiting for the infamous reverse culture shock to attack, but felt strangely lacking in anything like it--other than the occasional need to stop myself from slipping in a bit of random Vinglish. Everything seemed pretty much just as I left it; in fact, sometimes I started to wonder if I had ever left.

Then, after a crazy, nonsensical bit of traveling (Michigan to Denver via car, then a flight to Alamosa), yesterday afternoon I arrived safely--albiet tiredly--to Rainbow Trout Ranch in Southern Colorado. It seems like a great place, but has honestly been pretty overwhelming so far. As I'm coming in in the middle of the season, training is less formal and more the on-the-fly, watch-other-people-out-of-the-corner-of-my-eye type. Last night I had my first try at country line dancing and today I've learned how to do daily cabin cleaning. People are friendly, but as with job training, making friends is a little more challenging when entering into an already established group (and I guess being an introvert doesn't exactly help).

Work aside, I'm incredibly excited to be back in the Southwest! This part of Colorado is gorgeous, cool (for me, actually cold!), quiet (other than my co-workers), and unpopulated to the point that most Vietnamese would probably consider every venture highly dangerous. I, personally, am appreciating the danger, and am eagerly anticipating the horseback riding I hope to do on my first day off.

However, in case you are doubtful of my description of Colorado as idyllic to the point to the point of perfection, there are a few earthly things about the heavenly place. For instance, I couldn't wear my contacts all morning because my eyes were burning, assumably due to the dry climate, which is particularly shocking to my system after the tropical climate of Viet Nam. I find myself embarassingly out of breath when I merely walk from cabin to cabin in this 9,000 ft. altitude, and on the twenty-minute run I took today, I re-encountered the weird, coppery taste I used to always get in my mouth on runs, as well as the now-unfamiliar burning sensation that takes over my legs when they encounter hills. This was not completely terrible, though; it brought back great memories from my high school cross country days in Arizona.

So I guess all-in-all, the transient life seems to be treating me pretty well. (If nothing else, I am eating very well.) When I told one of my old friends about my schedule until the new year, he responded, "Oh, so you're still avoiding the real world." I won't deny the fact that this statement irked me to no end, even though it is not the first time I have encountered such a response. I guess I can see where these people are coming from in one sense, but in another, I rebel against this notion of the "real world." Who's to say what's real and what's not? I have experienced one part of the world that my friend will probably never experience, but just because the experience is foreign to him does not make it unreal. And what is reality but learning and interacting with others?

I won't deny that the transient lifestyle I am leading for a time is a priviledge that many people do not have the chance to experience--either because they actually can't or simply won't. However, this fact just makes me want to appreciate every bit of it more. Don't get me wrong, transience is rarely as glamorous as people think--it's often lonely and usually looks a lot like...well, the "real world."

When I bid my friend farewell, I told him to have fun with the real world. And that's what I aim to do too. Because, really, that's about all any of us can do. :)

interval training.

Yesterday I discovered the best interval workout ever.

It is ideally run in 100+ degree heat when the athlete has not run more than 8 miles a week for the past 6 months.

Preparation: Don bathing suit and a liberal coat of sunscreen.

Fuel: Start with a large pancake breakfast at one of the best bakeries in Viet Nam. If the bakery also happens to be a charity for deaf young people, you can feel great about the expensive nature of the breakfast.

Venue: South China Beach--one of the best in the world.

Warm-up: Jog into the water, screaming. Splash around with friends for as long as desired.

Workout: Run as fast as you can/want along the waterline until you can't or don't want to any more. Dive into the crystal clear ocean. Splash around until you catch your breath or want to start running again. (You will find that this rest will be shorter than you anticipate because you won't be able to wait to start running again!) Repeat as many times as desired. Watches and splits forbidden.

Competition: Friends lounging on beach chairs. In other words, you are guaranteed to win.

Cool-down: Float around in the ocean. Sprint across the blistering sand and collapse into your shaded beach chair.

Re-fuel: Coke and sesame rice cakes. Read and nap.

Possible aftereffects: Sunburn and body ache.

Pure joy.

chillin' in sa pa (while ha noi blazed)

Last week, Ha Noi was blazing hot. And the weekend was worse, with highs reaching around 40 degrees and humidity making it feel far hotter...or so I hear. Fortunately, I can't bear witness to the latter, as I was chillin' in Sa Pa, wearing a sweater and jeans (something I thought I wouldn't get to do till I return the the States), though I did don my swimsuit occasionally.

Sa Pa is a village in the mountains near the China border. It is cool, rainy, and lusciously green. It looks exactly like I expected Viet Nam to look.

It is home to amazing street food (including grilled tofu that will change your life!);

lots of ethnic minority vendors who will follow you around incessantly, trying to sell you their traditional cloth (they might even sneak up behind you in a restaurant and put one of their hats onto your head);

rocky waterfalls perfect for climbing up, swimming under, and lounging by (or for having a church service by, complete with communion of rice and water);

cheeeap hotels (though I suppose any hotel is relatively cheap when you shove ten people into two rooms);

and rocky roads to traverse on motorbike (though the wiping out was my least favorite part of the trip).

This weekend, it also happened to contain some of my favorite people in Viet Nam. (I like the ones who aren't in this picture, too...this just happened to be a great one!)

So, you'll understand why I can now call Sa Pa my hands-down favorite place in Viet Nam (see, it even makes me look great in pictures)!

Seven friends and I boarded the over-night train on Thursday night and were joined by 3 more Saturday morning. We arrived back to Ha Noi at 5:30 am Monday morning, with just enough time for Hannah and I to snag a couple hours' sleep on cots on our office floor before our co-workers showed up for work--only in Viet Nam!

P.S. Remember those purple sweet potatoes I told you about? They have those in Sa Pa too (another point, as if it needs one).

beauty in every season.

I saw the most beautiful thing on my way to work Friday morning:

Runners.
Real runners.
A team of real runners.

In contrast to the ones I see sometimes--the middle aged men in shiny gray business slacks and scarves, or matching, full-length, swishy warm-up suits and knock-off Converse shoes whose soles look like they give about as much support as a piece of paper lashed to the bottom of your foot--plodding around the lake at walking pace with a trace of the running form.

These men were wearing tiny running shorts, silky singlets, and racing flats. They were milling around, panting, on the corner of Hoan Kiem Lake under the scowl of their sweatsuit-clad coach, their shimmering skin highlighting the unbelievable fact that their quads had actual muscle definition. Suddenly, as though at the sound of a gun inaudible to anyone but these four men or as though pushed forward by a surge of adrenaline impalpable to the rest of us, they gathered together and surged forward, right hands grasping left wrists for an instant to push their stopwatch buttons before they settled into their pace, their legs nearly in unison as they rounded the corner. The signs were unmistakable; they were doing an interval workout around Hoan Kiem Lake.

I almost swooned...or fell off my bike from shock.

My first thought was: That is beautiful.
my second: Oh please, oh please can I join in your pain?

But, as I mentioned before, I was on my way to work. So I had to allow the momentum I siphoned from their mere presence to propel me through the remaining 5 minutes of my ride to work and content myself with an excited g-chat to Hannah and Ali, who could completely understand my surprise even if they couldn't begin to relate to my passionate longing.

Which is funny because when I first arrived in Viet Nam and was still forcing myself out the door to run nearly every morning, I hated it. I hated the smog and the traffic. The stares. The absurd amount of clothing I was expected to wear in the intense heat and humidity. Or maybe I was just ready for a break. For one of these reasons, or a combination of them all, or maybe the realization that I didn't have to do this for anyone else anymore or that I didn't want to run just out of fear of getting fat, I stopped.

Maybe my body has finally begun to miss the steady stream of endorphins it had become accustomed to receiving during the past 8 years. Or maybe I really do miss running. A lot. It will be interesting to see if I take this same perspective when, at some point in the future I find myself again in a place more suitable for running (or with less excuses not to), or in a place where I can find a group of people like the four beautiful runners at Hoan Kiem Lake have found that can keep my pattering footsteps company, and I excitedly lace up my Asics and step out the door and realize that...it hurts. More than I remembered.

Then we will see if I'm still swooning over the beauty of running, or if my quickened breathing is merely the result of my decreased lung capacity. Then, maybe I will be less quick to judge the people I see trudging along, exercising not because they enjoy it but because they should.

As for now, I guess I will take comfort in the famous verses I read from Ecclesiastes last week: For everything there is a season. And while I sometimes miss the last season and look forward to the next season, I am enjoying this season of life. Even if it means I don't get the personal satisfaction or other people's admiration for being A Runner, and feel slightly less comfortable donning my skimpy running shorts.

Especially since I can now admire the newly-discovered running men in theirs...

Last week I learned a new Vietnamese word: ngắm. It means to look, but is different than the other two words for looking that I already knew; this one is more along the lines of "to admire."

This morning I saw the runners again. Today it was around 70 degrees and lightly misting. What more could a runner ask for--except maybe an olympic-qualifying race to run in such glorious weather? They were wearing (only) tiny, highligher orange shorts. And, yeah, I did ngắm.

summary: you are happy.

Regarding my trip to KAMPUCHIA, a friend asked this morning:

What was your favorite part?
My response. I think I said something about Angkor Wat and Western food. Well, that was honest, but here is the more accurate and more honest response to that question:
FREEDOM!!! (I'm just saying, it was nice to not have a curfew for a week.)

Or to put it another way:

Hannah, Ali, and I were walking down the streets of Siem Reap one night and a random tuk-tuk driver -- after propositioning us for a ride -- asked:
Why are you happy?
To which we answered:
Because we are on vacation!!!!

Or to put it another way: We like Vietnam but we simply needed a break.

Now the vacation is over. We arrived home safely this morning at 3 am (minor flight delays..). In response to the question:

Cam-pu-chia the nao (How was Cambodia)? from my co-workers, I respond:
Vui qua nhung rat met (Very fun but very tired.)

Here is a brief summary or a few notes to pique your interest:

Tet 2010 Trip:
When: Feb. 14-21
Who: Hannah, Ali, me. Also some random (great!) friends we met along the way. Also our MCC boss, Derek, and his family, who happened to be in Phnom Penh for Tet (Ana, Derek's wife, is Cambodian). Also, met up with some MCC Cambodia friends.
Why: We got a week off of work for the Lunar New Year. We heard about a big temple in Siem Reap we probably should see while we are in SE Asia (Angkor Wat). Better question: Why not?!
Where: Ho Chi Minh City. Phnom Penh. Siem Reap (Angkor Wat).
Modes of transportation: plane, bus (4x6 hrs.), tuk-tuk (cart pulled behind moto. see picture below).
Favorite activities: people watching (particularly guessing tourists' countries of origin and wondering how obvious ours was). eating. climbing stairs. getting to know each other (seriously. we told stories from our ancient history--i.e. middle school. it was fun to have lots of conversations that didn't start with "i don't know what to do in such-and-such situation with my host family.."). laughing. meeting random people. taking pictures. learning (we read aloud to each other from the Angkor Wat guide books). getting up early (well...maybe not favorite, but surprisingly non-heinous). shopping (silk scarves!)
Probable secondary activity: annoying everyone around us.
Primary mode of entertainment: ourselves.
Notable events: my birthday party on the plane, complete with decorations, food, and fun activities. naming our non-existent American band and taking melancholy/cool cover pictures.

or to summarize more briefly:

When we arrived at one of our destinations, our tuk-tuk driver said:

You are happy. You laugh a lot.

Case in point. (us and our Angkor Wat tuk-tuk driver)

vietnamese morning exercise

If you walk around any lake in Hanoi between 5 and 7 am any morning, you will witness Vietnamese-style exercise taking place. You will see many people walking and a few people running...and many more interesting things. If you are a morning person, this could be your free entertainment for life. Here is a video clip of Vietnamese people exercising. Watch it for a glimpse into my life. You will not be disappointed!

Vietnamese Morning Exercise Video Clip

milestone! (kilometer-stone?)

I went running all by myself this morning! This was actually the first time I have gone anywhere by myself so far. It was refreshing...especially considering the fact that it was pouring. It was the coolest I have been yet here in Ha Noi.

I went out at 6:30 this morning (sidenote: I actually managed to sleep for 8 hours straight last night!) and, as Derek put it, there was "hardly anyone out." This made me laugh as I dodged through traffic--as a country girl whose biggest city of residence has been Grand Rapids, I am continually amazed by the sheer number of people. All the time.

However, I thoroghly enjoyed my run this morning. I actually like crossing the streets here. As a runner, it is very sensible to me--its the way I try to cross streets at home. There, however, I scare the drivers to death; here, they dodge me (or honk), I dodge them, it works very smoothly.

One thing I did notice, however, was the many low-hanging branches. And the low-slung tarps (people stretch these over their food stands by the side of the street, and groups of men sit under them for hours in the middle of the day, smoking and drinking coffee). I nearly got clothes-lined multiple times. I attracted many stares, and a few comments, even a thumbs-up from a little old man.

All in all, it felt good to go out and make it back all by myself. I think it is these kinds of little confidence-boosters that will make all the difference here.