I’m Sorry

I'm Sorry

Being neglected sucks, this blog has been neglected. (As I post this on Valentine’s Day I will once again spend this dumb holiday single–only this time I’m in Asia where sometimes the only phrase people know is “I LOVE YOU”–so no worries–I will no doubt get told that I am loved today.)

Some days I’m counting down the time I have left teaching (four weeks, one day and two classes) other days, days like yesterday, I get teary eyed when I think of leaving these kids. They are so photogenic they don’t even have to try and look amazing.

VD, Scrapes, Run and Confusion

Sorry I keep talking about how beautiful the views are here. I know many of my friends/famiy that read this are stuck in the mid west with zero elevation gain and flat lands for miles (but you DO have the lakes! Oh I miss the lakes!) I just wanted to report on another ahhh haaa moment I had on my Valentines Day run.

My friend and I drove up this super steep long road that started as dirt and slowly became snow. I’m not used to this. I’m used to snow all the time, all over, knee deep annoying and cold… but here I have to seek snow out and I don’t have a car to scrape off in the morning—I kinda like it. Any way, we hit the trail and ran a few miles out and back and enjoyed the chill of February 14th. I was cold and hot at the same time, sweating profusely for some reason, but then really cold from the chill of my own sweat, (does this happen to anyone else?) It was invigorating and the air was fresh and clean at 6,000 feet.

On our way back down we drove slowly, we wanted to take notice of the houses, (my friend is looking for a house for when her significant other moves out here,) the houses are beautifully nestled in the mountainside but pretty far removed from town. My house is small, quiet, cold, (mostly because we don’t want to pay for heat) but really close to town, really close to trails, stores, bars and two great grocery stores. Location! Location! Location!

I love my roomies, I love this town, my jobs are pretty awesome, yet why do I keep reading travel blogs, reading poems about Wanderlust and yearn for life on the road again? My Valentines Day consisted of loving where I am but dreaming of something else? Weird, right? Oh, AND I fell off my bike. It was a well-rounded day of scraping my knee, re-spraining my ankle and confusing my head, heart and body. Oh well. I’m here right now, so I’m enjoying the views while I can.

 

Breathe, Sloan, BREATHE.

 

Ps: I’m fine, just whiney about my knee and ankle. I ran this morning. J

Dare I say…

Because I live life on the road so much I have a hard time calling one particular place home. As a kid, my family bounced around from the east coast, to the mid west, to overseas, back to the middle of the country, then back east and then once more time to the Midwest.

On my own, I went to South America, then back east for a year of university and then ended up back in the Midwest… man, just talking about moving makes me tired. And now somehow I ended up with a job traveling the mid-Atlantic. So, when I’m running in a random city I rarely feel like I know where I’m going. I feel like I’m just constantly getting myself lost in hopes of a few things: getting a good run in, seeing the city, and maybe discovering something cool.

Rarely do I feel like I own a city. I don’t get a feeling of personal attachment to one particular place. However, I may have had that feeling last week on a run around the Inner Harbor. It was my second long run of the day and I needed to accomplish and hour and half of foot time, at 5pm I took off out the door of my apartment building and just started running, first to the harbor, then to the left through little Italy—being Friday evening, the weekend of Valentines day, I had to dodge couples and gaggles of single women lining up for Happy Hour, I had to weave my way between cars around Whole Foods until I finally made it to Boston street where things open up a little bit.

Boston runs right along the harbor where boats float in the icy February water, tied to the pier, begging to be let free to sail away. The water looked crisp, the air was fresh but not too cold. The temperature was warm for February, above 35 so I had shorts and a jacket, my favorite running attire. I ran and ran, Vampire Weekend was blasting my ears and keeping my cadence high and light. I ran, I ran and ran. The sun blasted orange over the water and reflected back turning the sky into an explosion that I wish I had been able to capture, (yet alas, my fancy camera phone was left behind—along with all other form of communication, what a glorious feeling!)

At my turn around point I stop to stretch a bit, to admire the other Friday evening runners, to take notice of what a dog friendly city Baltimore is. After a few moments I hop back into my pace, quickening it bit, getting into my grove, setting a bit of a faster speed for my journey back along the Promenade.

At this point, I find myself on a wooden surface jutting out straight toward the water, a perfect view of the setting sun, Vampire Weekend loud and optimistic in my headphones—I have the biggest, cheessiest grin on my face. I can only imagine what other runners think of my smile, but I don’t care. I feel good. I feel comfortable. I feel like Baltimore is a city I love to run in. The wooden planks under my feet are my favorite surface to run on, they make a happy noise under foot and spring me forward to continue on to complete my route that is wrapping around past Power Plant’s Barnes & Noble, by the Aquarium and to my goal—Russel Schipper. I can see the red neon lights; my pace gets more excited as it creeps closer.

Now it’s dark, lights reflect and double on the glass smooth water. No boats are sailing out to sea tonight. The mile back to my apartment from the end of the harbor was tough. An hour and half run after an hour morning work out was hard—but inspired. The city inspired me and kept my feet moving. It put a smile on my face that was the genuine smile of…dare I say? A runner’s high.

 

 

 

*Photos by Andrew Durand