That time I ran with the Crown Prince of Denmark

Well, myself and 35,000 others.

Tonight’s 10K race was part of a week-long celebration of the Crown Prince’s 50th birthday. From what I can gather, Frederik likes to run and celebrate fitness, so he decided to celebrate with runs in Denmark’s five largest cities. The events are organized so that everyone can participate regardless of age or fitness level, with the goal of getting people out and moving. Walk a mile, run a 10K. Do both. Bring the kids. The point is to get out there. As he declared a year ago, “When I turn 50 years old, I will celebrate the day with a race where all of Denmark can join…A run must be a race aimed at the experience runners, but equally to those who tie their running shoes for the first time and everyone is welcome regardless of age.”

Yet another reason to love Denmark.

By chance, a few days ago I saw the Copenhagen version of the event pop up on Facebook. True to form, I signed up without a lot of forethought. But I quickly came to see that it was kind of a big deal. Like, a 35,000-person, shut-down-the-roads kind of big deal (read more here). And it was at 7 p.m. Because the earlier part of the day was taken up with OTHER royal running events (kids’ run, mile run, awards, pageantry, etc.). But why would I expect less? It was the prince.

Look, here we are:

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I’ve done over 100 races and I can say with confidence that this was one of the most memorable. There was the sheer size of it: as of a few days ago, an estimated 35,000 runners were registered (but it was probably more, as you could sign up last-minute). There was also the hoopla: huge monitors were set up to show highlights of the event as we stood in the starting corrals. Helicopters flew overheard getting footage. It was broadcast on TV. I saw the Crown Prince (for maybe half a second) as he made he way to the start, surrounded by cameramen and bodyguards, and it might as well have been Beyonce. (Apparently the Queen was out there somewhere too, but I missed that. Someone told me this in the elevator to my Airbnb. Because it was apparently A Big Deal). Once the race started, the streets were lined with fans, maybe ten deep the entire way, waving Danish flags, wearing royal costumes, and cheering. Walking home afterwards, I stood at a stoplight with some runners and fans, and one person called this a “once in a lifetime event.”

 

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It was so unique; part of me wanted to take pictures during the race. But a much bigger part of me wanted to crush it.

And I kinda did crush it – my first race with a sub-7:00 minute average, and a big 10K PR of 43:08-ish. The course was flat with few turns, there was no humidity, and the Vaporfly 4% is truly a magical shoe. This either bodes well for the Stockholm Marathon in two weeks or I just blew it. Anyway.

It was a nice change to feel like a part of something here in Copenhagen. Sure, I don’t really know much — ok, anything — about the Danish royal family. I couldn’t understand a single thing that was being broadcast in Danish over the loudspeakers before or after the race. But, like everyone else out there, I get the pull of running through city streets on a beautiful spring evening. I felt genuine excitement and cheered along with everyone else when the prince walked by. Walking home with my medal, people said what I took to be “congratulations” in Danish and I gave them a “tak” in return. It’s nice to not feel like a tourist for a minute.

Did I mention that I love Denmark?

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The fastest way to feel like a local in Copenhagen

[I’m vowing to blog more.]

We arrived for the fourth year of Exploring the Good Life in Scandinavia yesterday at 7:30 a.m. Thanks to a stellar movie selection and a fussy seatmate, I got about two hours of terrible sleep on the flight. Unfortunately, we had a lot of morning and afternoon to kill before we could crash out.

After a massive Espresso House coffee, I did my favorite Copenhagen thing and got a bike from a bike share stand. These things have little motors, so you can ride them even when you’re completely drained of energy. It’s super-easy to set up an account, and there are drop-offs all over the city. To call Copenhagen a bike-friendly city is a massive understatement, and–if you’re comfortable on two wheels–riding around here feels safe and natural. I never feel more at home in Copenhagen than when I’m on a bike.

I started from Central Station and pedaled around with no real plan. If I felt lost or confused, I’d just follow someone for awhile. I ended up riding 11 miles before dropping the bike off and going to a meeting, more refreshed than I could have imagined a couple hours before.

Some of the sights were old favorites:

And some new treats too, like this adorable block-long street that I may never find again.

And this.

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Boston Marathon Recap

This started as a travel blog. But it’s accidentally become more of a running blog. And a sporadic one at that.img_9251

I’ve gotten into the habit of writing recaps of my major races. Yet with spring on the horizon and finals week approaching, I’ve been putting this one off. Plus, what can I say that hasn’t already been said much better here, here, here, and so many other places? Plus: pressure. This was The One. I’ve been chasing the unicorn, quasi-literally and figuratively, for so long. I should be able to muster up something articulate! Thoughtful! Reflective! Instead, I feel monosyllabic, much like I was during the race itself:. UGH! BLAH! SHIIIIT!

But, to keep up with this mini-tradition, I’ll do my best to lend something to the conversation.

With less than a week between myself and this race, I must admit that, despite all of the ughs and blahs, my first Boston was pretty freakin’ great. Yes, I know it was maybe the worst weather in the race’s 122-year history. I know about the hypothermia and the crowded medical tents and the relatively slow finishing times. I was there. I have my own experiences of stinging rain, crippling headwind, waterlogged shoes, and nonfunctional fingers at the ready. This thing sucked. It was hard. Ridiculously, unforgettably, and indescribably hard.

To prove my point, check out a few images of the Athletes’ Village in Hopkinton, before the race even started.

 

But if I wanted easy, I’d stay home or take a beach weekend. The marathon is hard. We do it for that very reason. For the challenge, for the stories. To experience the new and the singular. To feel alive and vibrant. To redefine what is possible. To brag. To be a badass.

Given all of that, on every single front, Boston 2018 delivered. Challenge and badassery galore. An experience like no other. Stories for decades, with grim photos to back them up (see above, and below, and any other blog or webpage chronicling this day). As for feeling alive…does it get any better than pushing through the wind, dodging puddles, rain stinging your face, music blaring, without a care in the world for what exists outside of this tunnel of cold, wet misery?

 

Alive does not necessarily mean happy. But there were even some weirdly happy moments during this thing. Wearing a wacky but really toasty outfit of running clothes under massive Goodwill throwaway sweats under a Tyvek suit under a plastic poncho to the start was hilarious! And losing my “real” running hat – all technical and sleek – and having to wear the Pippi Longstocking monstrosity I got at the Goodwill as a throw-away? Funny stuff! (This hat was actually awesomely toasty and kept my headphones secure. Love you, Pippi-hat!) Looking at – but thankfully passing by – the Athletes’ Village, with its ankle-deep mud and hundreds of pairs of discarded shoes? Also a riot. Later, during the race, the Wellesley tunnel – thinned out as it was – provided a massive boost. And I had to laugh when a surprise crosswind swept through, so swiftly that my anklebones bumped into each other and drew some blood. The absurdity of this! WTF!?

Yep. I got my money’s worth. And that’s saying a lot. Did I mention that, in addition to everything else, I had to go buy a new Lululemon outfit because of the shifting forecast and my poor packing? (I was not alone.) Add another $250 to the tab. Still – worth it!

And my performance? Given the downhill nature of the first half, I was not too surprised to be going at PR-pace (sub 3:30), albeit smartly. But the weather just got worse, my spirits got lower, and the hills appeared, as I knew they would. I dropped back and did what may be the hardest thing of all – let go of my PR hope (which was never really part of the plan anyway) and tried to be compassionate to myself in the process.

While this was not a glorious race or triumphant finish, I ran my third fastest marathon – a 3:39:46 – and beat my bib by a cool 6,008 spots. And I still have all my fingers and my toes and a love of running. Win!

 

So, let’s have a redo next year, Boston. And while I like an edifying experience every now and then, I also heard that I missed out on some serious cheering and crowd love thanks to these elements. Mother Nature, you can be a little less dramatic next time, mmmk?

Onward! Five little weeks until the beautiful, PR-friendly Stockholm Marathon. #gluttonforpunishment

Chicago Marathon Recap

On October 8th I ran my 8th marathon through the crowded, lively streets of Chicago. This was, by far, the largest marathon I’ve ever run (in fact, it’s the second largest in the world, and the fact that they pull it off so smoothly is pretty incredible). I trained all summer, using the FIRST program, to break 3:30 (A goal), or to break 3:36:55 (a PR; the B goal), OR to qualify for Boston ’19 (sub…3:40? Who knows!; C goal), or to finish without being broken – physically, emotionally, or spiritually (D goal). It’s good to have goals.

I missed my A goal by an almost laughable three seconds, running a 3:30:02. The rational part of me is thrilled by an almost 7 minute PR and a nearly 15 minute BQ on a hot day. The rational part of me is amazed to be setting big PRs at 39, and grateful to have emerged uninjured and eager to keep running. But that emotional part of me is plagued by all those things I could have done to get those three seconds back. If only I’d taken a turn tighter, pushed harder, left my iPod alone, skipped the deep dish pizza on Friday night, walked less the day before, eaten one more gel, eaten one less gel, lost a few ounces. You name it. I didn’t collapse at the finish, so I surely had something left! Ok, stop. Stop!! It’s a win.

The Chicago Marathon is famous for being flat and fast – a world record course if the weather is kind. But that’s a big if. For us, the weather was…ok. The humidity was on the lower side to us Virginians, after training through the sticky summer months. But after about mile 18, the sun was definitely a challenge. And the crowds! I called this race “the introvert’s nightmare” only partially in jest. If you’re someone who thrives on cheering and cowbells and funny signs, it’s your jam. But if you, say, want to listen to an audiobook, forget it. Too loud. If you want to listen to your own thoughts, even, you may have a hard time. I’m still figuring out the kind of races I like best, but I suspect that this was a little too overstimulating for me. It was a great experience and I’m glad to have done it, especially with good friends. But I also like to run my pace, feel in control of my thoughts and of my body, and be able to access a toilet at the start.

Even though I’m still figuring it out, I love any opportunity to talk about running, so I’d agreed to give a guest lecture to the JMU marathon class the Wednesday after the race (this is a class that trains students to run their first marathon in a semester – so cool, and very unusual!).

Knowing this was going to happen, I’d been taking mental notes throughout the training cycle and during the race itself. There’s nothing revolutionary here, but my tips for them included:

  • Work your core. Planks, bridges, etc.
  • Mimic race day as much as you can – clothing, fueling, terrain, waking up early. Mimic race day as much as you can. Study the race website and learn all that you can about the event.
  • Plan to be cold at the start (or to discard old clothes at the start). If you’re comfortable before the race, you’ll be too warm during it!
  • Fight the urge to go out too fast. You can’t bank time.
  • You can’t cram for the marathon. It’s not an exam. Training must be spaced out over many weeks or even months.
  • The wall is real. You will have dark moments in those later miles, you’ll want to quit, or maybe to die, and you will learn about yourself as you fight through this.
  • You’ll feel the full range of emotions. You can go from feeling strong and triumphant to defeated and miserable in a matter of minutes. [At this point in the lecture, I started to wonder why I loved something that sounded so dreadful.]
  • You will redefine what you think is hard and what you’re capable of.
  • You might become a lifelong runner, or you might cross this off your bucket list and never want to do anything like it ever again. Don’t feel like you need to decide right away.
  • Afterwards, walk around, stretch, roll. Fight the urge to be catatonic. You will thank yourself later.
  • [I didn’t tell them this but I thought about it.] The marathon is like the worst boyfriend ever. You put so much thought into your outfit for it. You try to lose weight for it. You bring your A game. It exhausts you. It calls the shots. It’s unpredictable: one minute, it’s making you feel strong and beautiful, the next it’s breaking you down, leaving you powerless and pained. And yet you may keep coming back for more, and very few people understand why. But hopefully your time with it will ultimately make you stronger.

What’s next for me? My least favorite part: recovery. Then:

  • The CAT Trail Half, October 28th. Practically in my own backyard, yet very much outside of my comfort zone. I suspect I’d like trail running, if I can keep my competitiveness and Garmin-obsession at bay.
  • The Richmond 8K, November 11th. Also running the last few miles of the marathon with a friend who’s gunning for a BQ.
  • The Rehoboth Beach Half-Marathon, December 2nd. Driving some of the JMU marathon kids up there for their big event, and shooting for my first sub 1:40 half.
  • Some other stuff, probably ill-advised.
  • The biggie, the unicorn, the life goal: my first Boston Marathon, April 16th. What a way to celebrate turning 40.

“What has this trip taught you about yourself, as a person or as a traveler?”

I recently posed this question to my class of 13 JMU students as we neared the end of our 18 day, short-term study abroad class in Sweden and Denmark. Eighteen days may not look like much time on the calendar, but it’s jam-packed with novel and challenging experiences: sleeping four to a room, learning public transportation in a foreign city, coping with jet lag, living out of a suitcase, trying new foods, considering new ideas, and being very, very far from home. Plus, several of the students had never traveled internationally before, and most had never done so on their own.

So, if they were to stop and reflect, important insights were right there for the taking.

Here are some of my favorite responses to this question:

“I’ve learned that I love the challenge of getting to know a new place without the help of maps or cell service. It forces you to talk to locals to get help and to get lost in order to find new sights/attractions.”

“I’m much more adventurous than I thought I was. I realized I’m very open to new experiences.”

“I love to travel by local transportation rather than renting a car because it immerses you in the life of the local people of the country you’re visiting. It’s a way to see the people, but also see the sights without the worry of driving a car.”

“The more I try to hold onto a special moment, the less present I am. It’s okay to enjoy something and then let it go.”

“Exploring and wandering can be the most fun.”

“I need alone time to recharge. And I miss leisure reading–I need to make more time for it at home.”

“I actually really enjoy alone time to frolic and discover new places on my own.”

“I’m much more capable than I give myself credit for! I’m capable of taking care of myself, getting around, making friends with strangers, and dealing with all of the problems that can come up while traveling.”

“I like to spend my days in smaller groups, and I appreciate moving at a more slow, local pace, not rushing off to see all the tourist destinations.”

“After traveling to a different country for the first time, I realize that I like familiarity. There’s a lot to see in the world, but that also includes things at home, and I’m going to take advantage of it!”

“I have so much left to learn. I looked at this trip as a pinnacle and a finish line, but now I know it was just the beginning. There is a world outside to explore and it’ll take time to do it. Now I know that there’s a world to discover inside of me, too. This whole life of ours is a trip, a journey, and I cannot wait to see where mine goes.”

Travel can always teach us something — about the broader world around us, but also about ourselves. Thanks for the memories, you guys…and for the lessons you always manage to teach me.

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Did I mention that we lived for a week in a castle?

Tobacco Road Marathon Recap

Don’t start crying now — you’ll hyperventilate!

This is literally what I had to tell myself a mile from the finish line of the Tobacco Road Marathon. I tried to maintain my composure while also allowing myself to bask in the achievement of a major life goal – qualifying for the Boston Marathon – which I’d pursued with varying degrees of dedication since 2008. Finally!

I finished in 3:36:56, a 9+ minute PR and a very comfortable 8+ minute BQ. It’s not an overstatement to call this a peak experience of life.

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Whether it’s a PR or a PW, every single race has lessons to offer. Here are ten things I learned this past Sunday.

  1. When the starting line gets fenced off (about ten minutes before the race), don’t hop the fence to get to your desired starting spot. It’s a great way to tweak something. Find an open spot and walk through it like a normal person. You have plenty of time.
  2. If you’re debating whether or not you’re overdressed, you are.
  3. A great audiobook will help you happily pass the early miles, when you might just want to be distracted from the enormity of your task. Then, when you switch to your music later in the race, it’ll provide much more of a jump-start. (For me, the formula was: loud music for the first two miles, until the cacophony died down, then Tina Fey’s Bossypants, which never fails to crack me up — and in this context, surely made me look crazy — then my Hamilton/Rush/Dear Evan Hansen/In the Heights/Queen/Lady Gaga/etc. mix from mile 16 to the end).
  4. If strawberry-banana flavored anything is unappealing to you, then condensed, thick strawberry-banana Power Gel will be nothing short of revolting when offered to you at mile 22. You will be tempted to take this gel because it is free, and gels can cost two whole dollars, and lookit you sticking it to the man and getting your money’s worth. Don’t do it.
  5. Core work is absolutely key for maintaining stability in those last miles. Thanks to CXWORX at ACAC, my hips didn’t hurt nearly as much as usual, I felt less fatigued, and I was able to keep decent form.
  6. Smiling and thanking volunteers helps you feel like a human being. And those small moments of connection might just keep you going.
  7. Pouring water over your head – even when it’s not that warm out – feels amazing and gives you such a rush! Just make sure there’s enough water to go around, and also make sure that it’s not Gatorade.
  8. Consider not running with a pace group leader. They can go out way too fast. (The 3:40 pacer started out at sub-8:10 pace with about 15 people following him. By mile 24, there were two left.) Trust yourself. And know that passing your goal-time pacer in those last miles feels amazing. Especially when he calls out, “Go get it, girl.” And you say, “Hell YES I will!” And then you do.
  9. You are not too old.  Many studies find that marathon performance peaks in one’s late-20s. But, for many of us,  we more than make up for the slow slide into decrepitude with grit, smarts, and strength training. (See?) At 39, I feel faster and stronger than ever. (Well, not today. Today I can barely walk. And forget stairs. But, usually.)
  10. Find people who push you, who inspire you, who make this whole crazy endeavor fun. I wouldn’t have achieved this huge goal without these amazing, fast, hilarious ladies who made getting up at 5:30 am on Saturdays in the winter something I actually looked forward to.

This race was fantastic, with our group picking up BQs, PRs, and age group awards right and left.

Next up, maybe Copenhagen in late May, which feels crazy right now, but also too cool to pass up. Then Chicago in October. And (how much do I love saying this??) BOSTON in 2018!!

My Top Five Hygge Spots around Charlottesville

As the days get colder and shorter, I’m thinking more and more about the Danish concept of hygge: hard to translate, but basically meaning cozy, comfortable, unpretentious, and lacking in anything unpleasant. Think candles or fireplaces, soft blankets, warm lighting, cherished friends, and good conversation. A safe haven.

I’ve been trying to make my home more hygge–putting away reminders of work and chores, lighting more candles, sporting sweatpants, and so on–but I’ve also vowed to not spend my winter house-bound, in a Netflix-and-popcorn-induced coma.

So, when I want to venture out but still want a strong dose of hygge, this is where I’m going to go:

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Fellini’s – a Charlottesville institution, Fellini’s exudes a casual and unpretentious coziness. On any given evening, you might happen upon some jazz, blues, or maybe even live-band karaoke, performed in an intimate setting to a hodgepodge of  locals. Dimly lit and snug, I’m lucky that this place is just two blocks from home, that I feel no pressure to fancy-up to go inside, and that there’s always a nice bourbon there, ready to warm my spirits. (A close downtown bar runner-up: C&O.)

The Pie Chest  – what’s more hygge than pie and coffee? This newish spot off the Downtown Mall delivers both sweet and savory pies and a world of hot beverages. How about a steaming turkey, cranberry, and brie potpie? Or maybe a slice of bourbon pecan or brown butter pumpkin with a mug of dark roast? I encourage you to take a seat by the big front window on a cold day, sip your coffee, and be happy you’re not one of the unfortunate souls enduring the weather, shivering and pieless.

Travinia – Chain restaurants don’t usually scream cozy charm, but this Italian restaurant manages to feel inviting and non-generic. Maybe it’s the warm lighting and big couches. Maybe it’s the comforting pastas or the Italian nachos. Maybe it’s just a pleasant diversion from the Stonefield parking lot. Or maybe it’s the fact that my boyfriend and I had our first date here in the middle of a snowstorm. Whatever the reason, for me, Travinia gets a surprising number of hygge points.

Outside of Charlottesville and Albemarle, we also have:

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from fourcp.org

Four County Players – Twenty minutes north in Barboursville, the Four County Players have been bringing fun, family-friendly, high-quality theatre to the area for over 40 years. Their converted old schoolhouse features an intimate performance space and a cozy bistro where you can sip some local wine and have a yummy snack. FCP never ceases to be welcoming, charming, and unpretentious. I’ve performed here on and off since 2002 and every time I walk in the building, I see an old friend and feel like I’m at home.

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Veritas – At the base of Afton Mountain, Veritas winery is an area hotspot during all four seasons, but winter is my favorite time to be there. With its big leather couches and massive stone fireplace, there are few places I’d rather spend a chilly day, sipping some red. Don’t miss their spectacular Christmas tree!

While it can be hard to shake off my favorite fuzzy robe and slippers when the temperature starts to resemble my shoe size, it’s also nice to know that hygge can be found outside the predictable comforts of home.

 

And you? Where’s your favorite wintertime cozy spot? Leave a comment and spread some winter joy!

Why I’m Not Sad about Winter This Year

I typically get a little down every year, right around this time. The days are getting dramatically shorter, the windows are soon to be sealed shut, and my bright summer dresses have been relegated to the back of the closet. To pass the time between November and March, I’d binge-watch and binge-read and count the days until my self-imposed hibernation ends and the warm Virginia weather returns.

What changed? Well, a couple of years ago I learned about the Danish concept of hygge, and this winter, I vow to bring more of it into my life.

Hygge (pronounced – kind of – like HOO-ga) is one of those untranslatable foreign words that suggests a way of thinking that we Americans just don’t quite grasp (but a fun attempt to define it is here). It roughly translates to coziness, contentment, and lack of anything unpleasant. It can be found in quiet conversations with friends, in candles, fireplaces, snuggly robes, a glass of wine, warm blankets, or steaming coffee. A hyggeligt (the adjective form of hygge) environment is your safe haven.

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In Denmark, hygge is practically a survival strategy in the long, cold, and very dark winters. The sun goes down around 4 p.m. and doesn’t rise again until mid-morning. That means that anyone who is employed in the traditional working hours has little opportunity to experience daylight. And this deprivation drags on for months.

This sounds like a recipe for depression, yet Danes are constantly rated among the world’s happiest people. As many have suggested, hygge may play a key role.  And, unlike universal health care, generous parental leave, and subsidized college education, the beauty of hygge is that it’s something we can easily import to States.

Creating Hygge at Home

Want to have a more hyggeligt winter? Want to transform the dark, cold months into something to anticipate and savor rather than something to grimly endure? Here are some tips:

Start with a little self-experimentation. Look around your home and note what spaces and items make you feel content and at peace. What is it about these spaces? And what spaces make you feel tense or unhappy? Those might need some addressing. (Right now, there is a huge stack of books and papers under my coffee table. Every time I see them, I feel a little tense as I’m reminded of the work I’m not doing. Definitely not hygge!)

What does make me feel warm, safe, and snug are these slippers (seriously worth the splurge), these candles (not a splurge at all!), watching reruns of Gilmore Girls, looking through old photos, or reading a good novel with a lot of lights turned on. Even better if I can smell something yummy cooking. (Slow-cooker meals, therefore, are very hygge.) And that pile of books and papers? That has got to go.

Start by checking in with yourself and coming up with your personal definition of hygge. And get your family in on the discussion too! Here are some great tips for working hygge into family life.

Think carefully about the spaces you inhabit. Is your home welcoming? Warm? Cozy? Danes generally don’t go for big, sprawling spaces but instead pay thoughtful attention to details: lighting, books, meaningful possessions. Less clutter. There are no hard-and-fast rules here (but if you want some ideas, just type “hygge” into Pinterest, or check out this piece). Hyggifying your home is possible at any income level and, at most, may require purchasing a new lamp or two. You don’t need to get fancy. In fact…

Hygge is most definitely not fancy. It’s not pretentious or status-conscious. No judgment, no posturing. Cast aside your need for perfection. Don’t put off inviting people over because you still have to replace those broken kitchen tiles or perfect your recipe for coq au vin. Sharmi Albrechtsen, who frequently blogs about Danish happiness, once told me that trying to one-up or impress your friends and family with fancy food and drink is pretty much the opposite of hygge, as it doesn’t foster warm feelings at all. Instead, hygge is modest, comforting, and familiar. This recent trend, then, might just be perfect.

Don’t hibernate. Stay social. Winter can foster a real sense of isolation as we hunker down and close the world out. But Danes stay social in the winter, having small gatherings, going to snug cafes, and getting really, really psyched for Christmas. Christmas is huge in Denmark. It seems as if all of December is spent gearing up – preparing food, decorating, visiting friends. And the big event? With the lighting, music, family, friends, and traditional foods, you might say it’s hygge at its finest.

Want to read more about hygge and related concepts? Here’s a fascinating take on how people can thrive in harsh winters around the Arctic Circle (in Norway, but still). Author and reluctant Denmark transplant Helen Russell explores hygge and Danish happiness in The Year of Living Danishly. And I can’t wait to see what Danish happiness researcher Meik Wiking has to say in the forthcoming Little Book of Hygge.

 

Running’s Peaks, Ends, and Mindgames

Two weeks ago, I was crippled by a pretty trivial decision: run Huntington Beach, CA’s Surf City 10 Miler, the distance I had signed up for, or heed the warnings of both my physical therapist and my aching Achilles and drop down to the event’s 10K.

The two courses were pretty much identical – both out-and-backs along the scenic, flat Pacific Coast Highway. The 10K just turned back a little sooner. As I pondered this decision: to drop down to the 10K or not to drop down, I went into full-on nerd mode as the concept of duration neglect popped into my head. Based on this well-established psychological principle, if I wanted to have good memories of this race, the total distance or time spent running mattered less than did the emotional peak and the way in which it ended!

So, what did I want from this race? I certainly wasn’t running it for a prize. I wasn’t in competition with anyone. I just wanted to run strong, have fun, and not get hurt. So, I decided to downplay the distance, or the duration, and opted to ensure a solid peak and a strong end. That way, I would have good memories of this special seaside race. The 10K it was.

Looking back two weeks later, I DO have a positive memory of this event. I felt fit and strong the entire time. I ran a negative split and a big PR of 45:06: good for fourth place overall and third in my age group (a shout-out to the dominant 30-39 year-old ladies, eh??).

But, beyond these more objective markers of success are my memories of pride and exuberance: Getting faster as time went on. Passing person after person, without pain or fatigue. And then crossing the finish line, shocked that my sixteenth 10K was, unexpectedly, my fastest one ever.

Did I wish for a second that I had run 10 miles? No way! Distance had become way less meaningful than I’d expected. Duration neglect was alive and well on the PCH. I had a solid peak and a strong end. The miles I’d logged were unimportant.

But sometimes duration neglect can work against us.

Another decision I’m grappling with is whether or not to run the Richmond Marathon in a mere two weeks, given my Achilles pain and other mysterious and enduring foot aches. Here, duration neglect takes center stage again. When I look back on previous marathons, even recent ones, details of the multi-hour slog are all but gone from memory. What remains is that peak – the realization that I am going to do it. That singular sense of badassery and pride as the miles tick by. And then the end – the triumph of crossing the finish line, getting my medal, and maybe eating a massive burger.

I truly want to respect the distance, but it’s awfully hard to do that when my psychological makeup is designed to work against me. 26.2 is a vague notion, manageable – no, conquerable – in the abstract. (And maybe this is a good thing. Would anyone choose to repeat this experience if they could mentally recreate each and every painful step?)

So, to run the marathon or not to run the marathon? As it unfolds over three-plus hours, it will be so much more than a peak and an end. It will be 26.2 miles, a distance that is just plain hard to get my mind around in any kind of real way.

In trying to make a decision that does respect the distance, I consulted the race map, trying to imagine myself at each and every mile. Maybe this could undo duration neglect just a bit. Here goes:

marathon-map

Mile 1-3 – navigate the crowd, try to resist the urge to go out too fast.

Miles 4-8 – a nice straightaway, settle in to a comfortable pace. Enjoy some downhill. Have a gel around 8. Don’t speed up too much.

Miles 9-12 – Cross the James, go through some woods, hit a gradual uphill. Don’t even think about being done yet.

Mile 13.1 – Halfway…only halfway. Be happy-sad about that.

Miles 14-16 – Approach the windy, gradually uphill bridge I’ve heard about. Try not to get psyched out. Fight through. This might be the worst of it. Maybe switch from podcasts to Hamilton. Have another gel.

Mile 17 – Back to downtown, optional bail-out point. Don’t do it! (Unless your Achilles is sending you an unmistakable QUIT message. Then do it.) See Mark. Don’t do the math. Don’t kill people with cowbells.

Miles 18-20 –  Enter potential slog territory. Try to catch up to people ahead of you. Smile when hitting the 20 mile mark. Stop worrying that your toenail fell off. It probably didn’t, and who cares if it does?

Miles 20-23. Enter that boring section of flat and ugly. Just think about anything else. Crank Hamilton. You are not throwing away your shot.

Miles 24-25. You should know at this point if your BQ is likely. And if it is, you will feel so freakin’ amazing. Remember last year’s half, when you hit this section and felt so happy knowing you were going to finally break 1:45? Like that, but better. This is your peak. Bask in it.

Enjoy the massive downhill and cross the finish line!

So, does this pull focus from the peaks and ends from marathons past and give me a sense of the distance and challenge I’m up against? Yes. So why do I feel pumped up instead of intimidated??

Maybe that’s my answer. Bring it, Richmond!

Fresh Air, Lifetime, and a Shower Cap: What a Traveling Happiness Speaker Needs in a Hotel.

As an itinerant speaker for IBP, there are always a few weeks out of every year that I spend on the road teaching day-long seminars to a large audience of health-care professionals. Whether I’m in Maine, Arkansas, or California, the routine is the same: get up early, exercise, shower, and make myself presentable. Scarf down some breakfast, and get to my presentation site by 8:20 a.m. I talk from 9:00 to 3:30, usually to very nice people on some topic I love, but it’s still exhausting. I have yet to find a pair of shoes that looks professional while also keeping my feet from throbbing by 2 p.m. (these are my current faves, if I can get away with them. Otherwise, Dansko boots or Clarks won’t kill me).img_2453

After the talk ends, I hightail it. I drive at least an hour to my next location, zoning out to the sounds of a podcast while crossing my fingers for minimal traffic. I eat a really early, Yelp-recommended dinner, usually nice, always with wine, and then retreat to the quiet oasis of my hotel room, hoping to go to bed early so I’m fully charged for the next day. This is some of the hardest work I do, but also some of the most gratifying.

After 5 years of this gig, there are certain things I have come to value tremendously in my hotels, which are usually mid-range chains, like the Doubletree, Marriott, or Hampton Inn.

These things include:

  • a phone charger right by my bed (often built into the lamp) (yes, I look at my phone in the middle of the night.)
  • a king-sized bed. I am one person, averaged-sized, and this is totally unnecessary, but MAN, it is a treat!
  • Lifetime Movie Network. This is a rarity, but nothing makes me happier than unwinding to the histronics of a former Charlie’s Angel with amnesia, or the saga of a girl locked in a box.
  • a TV with a sleep timer, because I love to fall asleep to the frenzied sounds of the above (or, if not that, then some Criminal Minds or Law and Order). It’s some kind of antidote to the long days of talking about hope and happiness.
  • a shower cap. Because you sometimes want to skip a day of hair-washing.
  • a quiet HVAC system. No one wants to hear that thing turning on and off all night.
  • a window or sliding door that will let in some fresh air. So long as the temperature is above 50 and below 95, I firmly believe that natural, non-filtered air is a fundamental human right. I promise, I will not jump. I will not fall out and sue. I will close and lock the window when I leave. Just let me open my window and have my air.
  • a solid breakfast, which includes some high-protein options. Omelet bar is the best. No breakfast is the worst. A sad array of sweet breads is almost as bad.
    img_2459

    No.

  • a real bar. JUST in case I’d like to take a glass of wine or bourbon up with me to my room. These are some long days, friends, and there are still emails to answer and clothes to iron before bed. Bonus if there’s a free happy hour (this happened twice this week!)
  • a Keurig coffee maker. I know, I know. They are terrible for the environment. But, when I wake up bleary-eyed and in need of immediate caffeine, they are just so easy.
  • a gym with a stability ball and a medicine ball. Because core.
  • a decent place to pop out in the morning for a run even when it’s still dark out. It needs to be well-lit, flat, and safe. I try my best to scout this out online, but there’s always a sense of the unknown when booking a room somewhere unknown.
  • legit blackout curtains. For early bedtimes much more so than late, lazy mornings.
  • I seldom expect this but am thrilled when it materializes: a robe!

    A nice, too quick stay at Temecula’s South Coast Winery.

Things that actually annoy me or that I care nothing about on these short stays: a pool, a concierge, valet parking, laundry, and free cookies (stop it, Doubletree!).

After a week on tour, I’m happy to say that many of these places hit the mark. The Embassy Suites in Valencia was a nice surprise. And I certainly cannot complain about Pasadena’s Langham Huntington, where I’m spending my last two nights. Treat yo’self!

Next week – lobster and coastline in Maine!
What do you want in your hotel?