Running becomes a contact sport

I received my very first stitch tonight. It's on my upper lip, and I'm oh so proud. I haven't actually seen it yet, since it's under the bandage, but I'm sure it's cool. The doctor would have put another stitch or two in the top of my nose, but there was no skin left to stitch together. It's just a hole -- not too deep, though, he says.

I couldn't have asked for better company in the doctor's office. After I convinced him I hadn't gotten into a fight with some Albanian, Paolo drove me to a nearby skin clinic. Initially he was initially under suspicion for girlfriend beating, but after the dermatologist and the nurse spent 15 minutes picking asphalt out of my face with tweezers and a scalpel he was cleared of fault and was smiled at as he let his hand be subjected to bone-rubbing squeezes and, finger-nail punctures. After he drove me home, Paolo concocted a wonderfully smelling pasta sauce from scratch -- hey, I guess it pays to have picked an Italian!

All this and I only cried once.

Trail Marathon

This weekend I traveled to the Southwestern coast of England to a little peninsula called Portland. It's connected to the mainland by a thin stretch of pebble beach called Chesil Beach, the same Chesil Beach where Ian McEwan based his famous book by the same name. My book club read the book last year, so it was funny to end up running across it, and discovering that the beach itself mirrored the hardships in the novel.



I went to Portland to run my first trail marathon. It was hosted by Endurance Life and it started like this...





We ran over cliff tops and bounded through muddy puddles on the edges of 200 foot drops. The scenery and difficulty of the trail made it so an I-pod was not only unnecessary but forbidden.




Because of the rough terrain the race took me more than five hours to complete, and it made the Florence marathon seem like a walk in the park.

It was the hardest thing I've ever done, at least physically. It was beautiful and rewarding... so much so that I think I'll do it again. February 21st in South Devon.

I laid everything out the night before, and when I woke at 6:30 it was raining. Cold.




Paolo came outside the apartment at km 38 to take my photo. He looked very clean and well rested. How I managed to be grinning in this photo I have no idea. I was somewhere between delirium, relief (at being so close to the end, and seeing someone who, if I'd really wanted him to, could have taken me home) and pride.










Oh, this was a nice moment! Seconds from being able to stop running, I sprinted to the end, determined to get in under 4 hours and 20 min. I'd made a bet with Paolo that I could. He said he'd buy me a real live Christmas tree if I did...


















And if you can read those little numbers... I want my tree!!!

Sweden

Hiking in Northern Sweden

At the start of the five day hike, looking down into the Bothian Sea


I swam here. Well, as long as you call being in freezing cold water for about 5 seconds swimming...



The skies were always so blue and the sea looked like a lake.

My new neighbor

Dana, Marcella, Mariane and I on the boat off the Isola d'Elba this past weekend. Have I mentioned that life is good at the moment?