Oh, the liver!

We've just returned from a whirlwind European Christmas adventure. Going into this vacation, I was a bit dubious of our travel schedule and tight itinerary, but it turns out that any worries I may have had were unfounded. Yes, the double-decker plane never arrived in New York because a two inch snowfall in Europe kept it grounded, and yes, this meant that we got bumped to a later flight booked with what seemed like half of the children of France. But we received a few Euros to compensate for our troubles, and these were minor upsets in what was otherwise a near perfect vacation.

In Paris, we reconnected with my favourite Brits, Lee and Mel, who adopted me as part of their extended family during my time spent across the pond several years ago. This time, we arrived (a bit late) to greet them in the two bedroom Parisian apartment Mel had arranged for our stay. Though the walls were paper thin, the toilet freezing cold, and the television controls incomprehensible, the beds were comfortable, the shower was hot, and the kitchen was well equipped. Besides, we made-do by going to bed most nights too tipsy to notice any problems (and by bopping to MP3s from Lee's cell phone speaker). We managed to visit the major sights and sounds in a snow dusted, magical Paris, but mostly just focused on enjoying the company. Most importantly, we dined on so much foie gras that it surely replaced any liver cells lost to excessive imbibing of French wines. It was three days of pure indulgence.

For now, some pictures of Paris (Czech Republic update and photos to come)...

Zdenek and I finally arrived in Paris and
headed out for celebratory drinks with long lost friends, Lee and Mel

Our apartment was steps away from what might have been
the most beautiful street in Paris, filled with the most amazing gourmet delights

Zdenek's first official French crepe

Musee d'Orsay at dusk

Who are those Parisians?

At the Louvre

Paris never fails to inspire romance

It was important to visit l'Arc de Triomphe,
site of the final stage of Le Tour

Lunch at Musee d'Orsay

Look! Zdenek found the painting that matches his ticket!

Me, too!

A very Parisian afternoon

Reset

Last week's cross-country trip to Portland, Oregon was filled with an overwhelming quantity of good food, a copious volume of Oregon microbrews and Pinot Noir, and three runs (two fast, one easy) within 48 hours. Despite my initial hesitations, it turned out to be a great trip filled with many good laughs. (Favourite trip moment: returning to the hotel at 6:30 pm after a five mile run with a coworker along the Portland waterfront to find a free tasting of Oregon microbrews being served up in the lobby.) Unfortunately, by the time I returned to New York on Friday evening, I was stuffed, jet lagged, and hungover (not necessarily in that order).

When I awoke on Saturday morning, my strong cup of coffee did absolutely nothing to perk me up. And while the first six miles of my Saturday morning 13 miler were not exactly painful, I felt as though I was outside of my body and somehow unconnected to my legs. I was running in a daze. By about mile seven, though, things seemed to come together, and I don't think it was just the effect of my chocolate Power Gel 10 minutes earlier. I finished the 13 miles feeling suitably exhausted and entirely pleased. Twenty minutes later, I was showered, cozy, eating Zdenek's blueberry pancakes, and reading the NY Times.

By plane, train, automobile, and foot, I covered over 5000 miles in four days, and yet it was only the last 13 that really counted. Running has a way of making everything right again.

Old

Le Tour finally finished today, which means that I might finally get a bit of my life back. I am a bit surprised at how engrossed I became in this 21 day bicycle race, but I think I've found a lifelong addiction that will now have to wait another year for a fix. Obviously Lance Armstrong's return to the Tour this year was the favourite subject among the American commentators, and even though I'm not a huge fan of Armstrong myself (I throw my support behind Fabian), even I must admit that it's pretty impressive for a guy of his age to make the podium, especially after a long hiatus from the sport.

It's funny to refer to Armstrong as an "old guy" -- even though among fellow Tour riders he most certainly is -- because I'm not that far behind him (and Zdenek is even closer!). I guess that makes me an old woman, or close to it. Try as I might, I'm rapidly realizing that I am having a tough time keeping up with the younger generation. This morning, with a throbbing head and pasty dry mouth, I conceded that our six hour East and West Village drinking fest last night (with a couple of friends who were born in the 80s -- believe it!) had taken a serious toll. With every hangover, I age a little more quickly, and I recover that much more slowly. It took me until 2 pm today to get outside for my run.

Zdenek, on the other hand, found himself reliving the moments of his youth on our Saturday bike ride. At the Piermont cafe where we stopped to get a smoothie, a cute blond girl started putting the moves on my husband. When we got back on our bikes, Zdenek commented that it had been a "long time" since that had happened to him, so I'm happy that he got to feel like a young stud again. It must have been his Saxobank jersey; maybe she mistook him for Fabian.

This seems like as good an opportunity as any to post a photo of my cycling heartthrob

Will ride for food

An unexpected consequence of my new cycling hobby has been my growing and rather committed interest in Le Tour de France. In years past, I feigned excitement as Zdenek tried to explain to me the tactical moves and gruelling terrain that make Le Tour so thrilling, but it just didn't make much sense to me, and 21 days of 3+ hour televised events seemed like a colossal waste of time. This year, however, has been different, and I've been a dedicated viewer since the start (and not just to ogle Fabian, either, although his presence in the Tour certainly doesn't hurt).

I now realize that competitive cycling is rather difficult to appreciate without having experienced, first-hand, the joys of drafting or what a 7% grade really feels like; because I can finally relate in some small way, I view Le Tour as only a cyclist can. But one thing stands out about the professional riders, aside from their ability to cycle 100+ miles, day after day: their weight (or lack thereof). An interesting piece in this weekend's NYTimes highlighted just how regimented a diet these athletes keep to maintain their boyish, almost skeletal figures, and how post-workout beers are absolutely prohibited. In fact, the Tour riders sometimes need to be reminded or inticed to eat.

It is here that Zdenek and I part ways with the professional elite (assuming we hadn't already done so on a 7% climb). Eating and drinking may, in fact, be the two most important reasons that we run and cycle, rather than the other way around. This weekend was a case-in-point: we enjoyed a moderately difficult but gorgeous 55 mile ride with Caitlin and Adam on Saturday morning (which I hope will become our regular weekend event), and then rewarded ourselves with a bottle of wine, pizza, prosciutto, and pie and ice cream. Sunday morning saw us running a solid 12 miles, but spending the rest of the afternoon in the Bohemian beer gardens with friends, drinking Czech brew and snacking on bratwursts.

Athletes we might be, dieters we are not.

My first cycling picture

The peleton: Adam (l), me (c), and Caitlin (r)

Sexy Saxobank rider (just like Fabian)

It's a small world!

Today Zdenek and I ran 10 km. The entire time, my stomach sloshed back and forth like the Bay of Fundy (you need to visit to get the joke). It's been only four days, but I have been ingesting insane amounts of food (most of it greasy and/or carb-laden) and an equally insane amount of drink. Isn't that what vacations are all about?

In any case, it's been a spectacular day, and this trip is getting better and better. We had a last hurrah in New Brunswick (through Hopewell Rocks and Moncton) and then headed into PEI. Wow. This island is simply stunning. At every turn we are amazed, and I just can't believe it took me 31 years to see this part of my country.

After checking in to our accommodation tonight, we took our 10k run down a lonely, deserted road (which basically describes most of PEI). It was tough and hilly and we felt like crap (and my stomach sloshed the entire time, which may have been due to the beer and pizza in Moncton three hours prior, or could have possibly been caused by the Tim Hortons I enjoyed along the Acadian coast just before crossing Confederation Bridge). Although it rained most of the time, it was completely cleansing. We both felt refreshed upon finishing, so we rewarded ourselves with another bottle of wine, a pound of PEI mussels, some Newfoundland cod cakes, and a bowl of fresh mussel chowder.

Did I mention that we're eating and drinking an awful lot?

Upon returning back to our B&B tonight, we arrived to find two lovely ladies who, of course, are friends of friends. Canada is small country. It is also a wonderful one. Tomorrow, we'll pay homage to all of it!

So far, so full!

We've been in Canada for just over 24 hours, but it's been a whirlwind adventure of sightseeing and eating thus far. Nova Scotia is simply gorgeous. Zdenek and I have been awestruck at every point along the "highway" (more of a secondary road, really). It is so lush, and there are so many lakes, and the entirety of what we have seen thus far has an earthy warmth to it that makes me feel, somehow, like I am home.

We spent a wonderful night in Halifax visiting the Garrison Brewery and getting to know a few locals over some PB&J (that's the raspberry wheat ale mixed with the nut brown). On their recommendation, we had dinner at the Five Fisherman (which served as the morgue for victims of the Titanic and which, to this day, is apparently one of the most haunted place in Canada), where we enjoyed a truly memorable seafood extravaganza. Too much beer and wine left me feeling a little worse for wear this morning, but we had a nice stroll around the Halifax Farmer's Market (apparently the oldest in North America), grabbed a light breakfast, and were off!

The rest of the day saw us in the picturesque fishing village of Peggy's Cove and then in Mahone Bay; the latter was unfortunately a bit too foggy to be properly enjoyed. We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in Lunenburg, the UNESCO World Heritage site to which I previously referred. Tonight we dined at Fleur de Sel, named Nova Scotia's Best Restaurant in 2008. It was a culinary experience created especially around local fare -- Atlantic salmon, Lunenburg scallops, New Brunswick cheeses, and Nova Scotia ice wine, to name but a few. This is a restaurant that could certainly hold its own among the best we've dined at in NYC.

I've been saying to Zdenek that the wide open spaces, fresh air, and slower pace of life takes a little getting used to. Coming from the hustle and bustle of NYC, I almost feel out of sorts. But I think I am quickly adjusting. It feels so good to be here. There may be only one Canadian flag on a front porch for every 20 one might see in the US, but there's no two ways about it -- we are in Canada. And it feels like home.

Unfettered

It's been just over one month since the marathon, and I must say, flexibility is a wonderful thing. I think I've cycled and run more frequently than I ever have when on a training plan (though perhaps each individual workout is not as long), mostly because I don't need to worry about scheduled rest days or how one workout might affect the next. If I'm tired, I go slower. If I'm feeling good, I go faster. If I have time and the Park is empty, I go longer. It's been a relief to let go of all the rules and restrictions that come with trying to achieve a specific goal.

My entire weekend was filled with such moments of careless abandon, and I think this could explain why it was so enjoyable. On Friday night at around 9 pm, I decided, on a whim, that my stub of a new fourth toenail deserved some polish, and I headed out the door for a late-night pedicure. On Saturday, after a solid bike ride in the Park, I learned over my morning cup of coffee and newspaper that the Central Park Zoo has its first new exhibit since 1988 -- a pair of snow leopards! Neither Zdenek nor I have ever been to the Zoo, a somewhat odd fact considering that it is a 20 minute walk from our house. Though I knew it would be filled with tourists, baby strollers, and screaming children, we decided to have a go. And indeed, I'm happy that we did. The leopards, monkeys, and penguins did not fail to disappoint, and it was an unusual and refreshing way to spend the afternoon.

The main attraction

Saturday night was truly the icing on the cake. Zdenek and I enjoyed a three hour eating and drinking extravaganza at a neighborhood restaurant, Dovetail, that we have been meaning to try for months. The tasting menu, both in terms of quantity and price, was quite simply over the top. It was definitely an experience that comes around every few years, if that, because to do so more often would somehow detract from the luxury of the experience (not to mention put a serious dent in our pocketbook). The highlight of the evening was, without a doubt, the sautéed foie gras served with huckleberries, fennel, and a graham cracker puree, paired alongside a sweet chenin blanc. If it's possible to experience a food high, I did.

The next morning, during our 12 mile run (through which we may have just barely worked off the foie gras calories alone), Zdenek and I saw several extraordinarily fast men and women who were displaying rippling six packs and toned legs. As I trudged along in my oversized tank top and shorts, sweating like a pig in the 100% humidity, I knew that I will never look like those uber-fit speed demons (let alone run as fast as them). That reality didn't really faze me, however, because dammit, I can have my foie gras and eat it, too! The weekend was capped off with a Sunday evening rooftop garden party on the Upper West Side, where a few of the who's who of the literary, publishing, and fashion worlds mingled beside me in my Banana Republic dress. But I wasn't really bothered, because it's been far too long since I've sipped Pimm's outdoors.

I managed this weekend to also let go of something that's been nagging at my emotions for quite some time. I did this in a rather unexpected way -- I simply let go, and then didn't consider it again. I think this allowed me to truly concentrate on and experience the rest of the weekend's delights in a way that would not have been possible, for example, last weekend (or the one before that, or the one before that…).

I acknowledge that my entire weekend could be described as one of self-indulgent luxury, and, in case my mother is reading this, she should know that the fact that I am truly blessed is not lost on me. But while the foie gras and the Pimm's were a treat, they weren't absolutely necessary to reinforce that, by definition, letting go is liberating.

Around the world in 72 hours

I was supposed to be far, far away this weekend, celebrating with my girlfriends in the BC Mountains. Instead, I’ve been right at home, enjoying the long weekend with my husband in Manhattan. It hasn’t been all that bad. Friday was a long day at work, and tomorrow promises more of the same, but the rest of the weekend has been pretty void of any heavy lifting. So instead, Zdenek and I made our own vacation here on this island (and a few miles outside of it). Some of the places we visited:

Italy: On Friday night, after getting off from work rather late, we hit the Mediterranean at our favorite restaurant and wine bar on the UWS. After one pitcher of Sangria, one bottle of wine, some prosciutto, cheese, and grilled shrimp, I was happy enough to pretend I was in Italy and almost too drunk to notice the difference.

Out-of-state and back again: On Saturday, we decided to take a little bike vacation. We cycled 75 km out to Piermont and back, through the Palisades and along the Hudson. It was tough going after a hard week of cycling and running, especially considering the marathon was only two weeks ago and that this week was absolutely exhausting work-wise. The one mile, 7% grade climb at the end of the Palisades may have been nothing compared to Saturday’s Giro stage, but I could hardly tell the difference. In Piermont I was rewarded with a fruit smoothie and a bit of rest. 23 miles later back in our apartment, I was rewarded with wobbly legs, a sore butt, and a huge sense of accomplishment.

I enjoyed my smoothie on this Piermont street

Spain: Saturday night took us down to Greenwich Village, where we were fortunate to stumble upon one of the most delicious and inviting tapas bars in the city, Las Ramblas. It was crowded but lively, the food was scrumptious, and the drinks were well deserved. We finished off the evening with homemade cake at Amy’s Bread. Best pink frosting ever.

Detox spa: Sunday consisted of lots of walking and hydration. We had fish and vegetables for dinner. Italy and Spain in 48 hours can tire a person out.

The beach (sort of): After a very hard but very fast run this morning in the Park (if I’m not going to run frequently this summer, I need to make every opportunity worth my while), and after a leisurely and delicious breakfast (once again courtesy of Amy), we spent this afternoon eating salami and cheese, Greek salad, and berries along the Riverside Park Hudson waterfront. It was almost as good as a beach vacation.

Only 5 minutes from our front door!

All in all, things could have been worse. And I learned that if I can’t make it to the vacation, I can always make the vacation come to me.

Hot SAWS!

My oldest and dearest friend, Laura, is visiting NYC for the first time this week.

Laura touched down on Tuesday night and is here through Sunday. The timing of her visit isn't perfect because it's a rather stressful and busy time for me at work, but, since these things can't be planned in advance, we're trying to make the best of it. Laura, in typical fashion for her, is being incredibly understanding and a great sport about things. She's not trying to squeeze in every little piece of Manhattan in five short days, but rather seems happy to see what she can while she's here, confident that she'll be back someday to see more. Thinking about my previous post on my tendency to stress over possible missed opportunities, it occurs to me that Laura's laid back approach may be a bit healthier!

Laura and I, over a bottle and a half of wine, to-die-for gnocchi, and some decadent chocolate cake, had a very good time getting caught up with everything that's going on in our lives. We have known each other since we were eight years old and have seen each other through countless bad boyfriends and even worse haircuts. But these days, we don’t get to spend enough quality time together. Our conversation last night inevitably included discussion of how our respective jobs are going, whether we are happy and fulfilled, and where we see ourselves in the future. But we also talked about the fact that Laura has found a new knack for, of all things, woodworking. She's built an entire workshop in her basement, and lately has been fashioning decorative Christmas trees out of all sorts of materials and interesting cuts of wood. She may not be making a living off of this (yet), but she's discovered an unusual hobby and a talent that she's only starting to cultivate.

Laura, in honour of your laid-back coolness, your optimism and good attitude, and your willingness to follow your heart wherever it may lead you -- including to a membership in the Southern Alberta Woodworkers Society (otherwise known as SAWS) -- this post is dedicated to you!