Posts Tagged ‘running’

A view from Riegrovy sady

Jessie & Helmet in Riegrovy sady

Well now that I’ve moved over to one of Prague’s largest and most popular parks, every day is a day in the park — and I love it!

Ticking off 30 minutes with the dogs is as easy as, well, a walk in the park (sorry). On this round I finally took notice of this view overlooking the city.

An old man standing at the top appeared to be contemplating the bottom. I wondered what he saw, what he remembered as he looked down on this old, yet somewhat modern city. I wondered; was he thinking of German occupation? Russian occupation? The Velvet Revolution? Or perhaps some more happy memory of a girl he once knew whose smile lit up his heart?

I know for me, this park has worked magic in a very short period of time. I don’t have ancient memories to review as he did, but I am making new ones. And most delightfully, my sense of freedom and creativity are returning. Each day so far, I’ve come up with story ideas from my business blog and today’s much overdue post for Through Expat Eyes.

I’ve also just endured two miserable months at a company where executive management was absolutely terrible. Non-supportive, hyper-critical, and downright mean in some cases, publicly lambasting people in public forums (but never with enough balls to do it to one’s face).

For the first time in weeks I’ve been sleeping through the night and awaking with enthusiasm. I’ve eaten only veg all week, took a run on Wednesday and did a TurboFire workout today. I didn’t plan any of this really, it just sort of happened, but I hope it’s here to stay. I’d gotten quite lazy and then didn’t have time for anything other than work anyway.

While new beginnings can often be stressful, this new flat in a new location and potential for new career moves makes me happy. I’m looking forward to more.

 

 Today I had the accidental experience of attending Göteborgsvarvet, which is apparently “the world’s largest half marathon.” As a (former) half-marathoner, I am surprised I didn’t know this was the home of the world’s largest half! I should have had an inkling something was up when I saw a Swedish acquaintance’s Facebook post saying she was off to “toe the line.” It also suddenly makes the choice of our last book club selection make sense.

It was called “Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen.” I thought someone in the group must be a runner, or maybe all of them since I hadn’t actually met them in person yet. Otherwise, it seemed an odd choice for anyone who isn’t really into running. Even as a runner, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to read it but it was meant to be my first meeting with the group so I downloaded the Nook version. Turns out, I didn’t make it to book club, and I still haven’t finished the book. A bit anticlimactic after hearing of the main character’s actual death in the hills of New Mexico on a training run as I was just 10 days into reading it. Always a buzz kill when you know the end of the story.

My second clue came when the tram driver made an announcement. The stops are announced by automated voice so when the driver speaks, you know something’s up whether you can understand them or not. Turns out he was announcing that the tram would turn around at Centralstationen instead of continuing as normal. No biggie though, it was only one stop before my intended one so just a bit of a walk. After walking a couple minutes I saw the blocked roads, crowd and… runners! My heart did a skip. As much as I hated running, I also loved it. And I miss it.

But I digress…

So, the above was actually the second happy accident of the day. The first was at the local  Saturday outdoor market. It’s the typical sort of place where you find clothes, electronics, produce, etc. I was struggling a bit at the butcher though because the young assistant didn’t speak English at all, I didn’t speak his native language (Farsi, I presume), and obviously I’m still working on my Swedish. I’m not even sure how much of that he knew.

Anyway, after a few minutes, a lovely woman with Caribbean-accented English began to help me understand the cuts of meat they had, helped me pick one out for my stew, and even made sure I had a proper recipe in mind. She asked where I was from, then told me she was from Jamaica. She was sweet, and fairly representative of people you meet. Particularly those who are from somewhere else themselves. I guess they remember when they were new too. I didn’t want to let her go. I wanted to ask where she lived and what was her phone number, but at the risk of sounding like a crazy American, I let her slip away quietly into the crowd.

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