I'm Streetsmart, I've got New York City Heart...

One year ago today.

I landed at JFK with two suitcases about to burst and more carry-on luggage than I could possibly carry. I had gotten a job offer no more than five days prior, packed up my life in Colombia, and flew out of Bogota the evening before my visa expired, knowing that when I woke up on my red-eye flight the next morning, the US would once again be home after a year abroad. It was time to move on. There were new adventures to be had. I knew little about what lay before me, but I knew that I wanted it more than anything.

The past twelve months have been one hell of a ride. This little town of Manhattan and I have learned to get along pretty well. This marks summer numero tres of living in this city. Summers of outdoor movies, tanning in Sheeps Meadow, street fairs, happy hours on rooftop bars, getting caught in intense summer thunderstorms, lazy afternoons spent wandering through the Village.  Summers where this is what's rolled into an average weekend....

Meat Market = fittingly located in the Meat-Packing District where fashion is edgy and it's ALL about who you know. This is THE place to see and be seen, where the right connections can get you sushi topped with caviar and a table full of drinks that are replenished before you even notice they are finished.  The music was hot, we danced the night away, bumped into a well-known AIESEC alum...this city is not so large after all.

PRIDEFEST = 100% undeniable proof that there are a LOT of incredibly attractive, SEXY men in this city, with unbelievable bodies that they aren't afraid to show off. It's also proof that they are ALL gay. My roommates and I watched the parade this weekend and decided that it was just a mean tease to all women who live here.  As if men walking down 5th Avenue in g-strings wasn't entertainment enough, the sudden bursts of rain made the show even more hilarious.

OLE OLE, OLE OLE Without even watching the EuroCup finals on Sunday, I knew the instant that the game was done and who was the champion.  I walked through the East Village to meet a couple friends for dinner and heard shouts of VIVA ESPANA, people pouring out of sports bars with red and gold flags draped around them, jumping up and down with the same amount of sheer passion that you would expect to find on State Street if the Badgers had just won the Rose Bowl.

The rhythm of the city
But once you get it down
Then you can own this town
You can wear the crown

makes me that much stronger, makes me work a little bit harder, makes me that much wiser....

Waking up at 630 am every Saturday doesn't feel quite as ludicrous as it did a month ago.  I've reached the point in training where every long run is the longest that I've ever run.  6.6 miles yesterday was easier than our first 2 mi run.  Adding on the miles feels natural.  I'm starting to believe that this marathon really is within my grasp.

Night or day, it's amazing how many people are running, walking, biking, rollerblading in Central Park; there are times when it seems as if the entire city is training alongside me.  Two of my teammates and I mused about this over coffee this evening.  Does the nature of the city attract people who are more active and used to a fast paced life?  Maybe the tranquility of Central Park offers a repose from the hustle and bustle of hedge funds and Wall Street?  New York offers so many intramural sports leagues and running groups, countless parks and running paths that it's almost impossible not to be drawn in.  For better or worse, New York is a city where IMAGE is influential.  Each runner, each athlete has his own reason, his own motivation, his own story, but each is drawn out to the same roads and paths converge.  A sense of community is formed.  

New York is turning me into the athlete that I never really was.  And I love it.

...so thanks for making me a fighter.

everytime i hear that song, i go back...

Growing up in a flat world of globalization, travelers of our generation have had to deal with the "perception of Americans abroad" when they travel to other countries. Coming from a culture that arguably has the most direct influence - positive and negative - on the rest of the world, just about all foreigners seem to have formed an opinion. While I've never experienced any severe anti-American sentiment, there were definitely times that I felt hostility when I was in Europe.

Colombia was different. At the risk of making a broad generalization, everyone I met was so incredibly warm to Americans. Many had never met someone from the States before and could hardly fathom the idea that someone from the US would actually want to come to their country, a country whose reputation has traditionally been tainted by negative images.

On one particularly memorable bus ride across the country, I caught the attention of a fellow passenger by reading the autobiography of the country most famous author and listening to reggaeton music, acting like traveling from Barranquilla to Bogota was a perfectly normal thing to do - which, by that time, for me, it was. We chatted for awhile, he complimented my Spanish, and I must have given him my contact info, although I hadn't remembered doing so until I received this email yesterday...

Hola Sarah:

Yo soy la persona que conociste, cuando viajabas de Barranquilla a Bogota, via terrestre hace como dos años...cuando leias la biografia de Garcia Marquez.

No te habia escrito, porque estaba viviendo en Italia y el papel donde me escribiste tu e-mail se me habia quedado en Colombia, donde me encuentro en la actualidad.

Estoy en Bogota, si vuelves por aqui, escribeme...

Mucha suerte y que que sigas leyendo los libros de Gabo.

HASTA PRONTO.....

RICARDO

(translation: Hi Sarah, I'm the person that you met, when you were traveling from Barranquilla to Bogota, overland, about two years ago... when you were reading the biography of Garcia Marquez. I hadn't written to you because I was living in Italy, and the paper where you wrote your email was left in Colombia, where I found it now. I'm in Bogota, if you ever return, let me know. Good luck and keep reading Gabo's [nickname for Garcia Marquez] books.)

For some reason this email touched me immensely - the fact that such a simple conversation almost two years ago left such an impression on someone.

Running down a dream...

I woke up with butterflies in my stomach early yesterday morning. Weather forecast was humid, but manageable, cooler than the past few days had been and the rain wasn't scheduled to begin until after noon. Perfect conditions for our first race.

The pre-race jitters picked up on the train, as I tried to remind myself that it was just Central Park, just like any other easy Saturday practice, that the hills and turns of these trails were starting to become second nature. I wasn't out of my element. On the contrary, the course was predictable and manageable. I psyched myself up a little more when I arrived to find my teammates gathered near the bag check. I was glad that I wasn't in this alone.

The race went well, I ran strong and steady, breaking my stride only at the fluid stations to grab a cup of water and pour half of it down my back. The more I run, the more I am starting to understand the mental aspect of the sport - the discipline, the determination, the consistency. The more I run, the more I appreciate the social aspect of the sport - having a running buddy who I can pace myself with, the volunteers along the course who push you along and tell you how amazing you look and how inspiring you are, hearing my mentor yell my name from the sidelines as we round the final curve and push ourselves into burning sprints. The cheers of the crowd, the lyrics of PUMP IT blasting through the speakers, my lungs burning in protest pushed me to cross the finish line. It was an amazing feeling.

And this is just the beginning. I can't even imagine the adrenaline that San Francisco will be in October.

I wanna go where the wind calls my name...

But if you ever come back around
This sleepy old town
Promise me you'll stop in
To see an old friend
And until then...

Finally purchased a much overdue new laptop for myself this morning.  And it's a MAC.  helllllll yea.  I'm lovin' it already.

All these places I remember, with lovers and friends...

Over the past year, I have come home for the weddings of two incredibly important people in my life. Last November, one of my Paris girls got married. This weekend, it was one of my roommates.

In a day, I pulled on my running shoes, retraced my footsteps down the lakeshore path to Picnic Point, up Observatory Drive, where I paused on Liz Waters hill to take in the view of the lake, before finishing strong down Bascom. Jack and I went to Barriques, my old coffee shop on the Square, and sauntered through the farmers' market for breakfast, running into two old friends on the way.

The wedding was picture perfect, planned to the minute, as everyone joked about, knowing that Emily would have it no other way. Our group came back together and the years that have passed slipped away. I caught up with my roommates' parents, who wanted to know all about my crazy adventures around the world that they had heard about. Lunch at Amy's and beers on the terrace until reception time. It's good to be back. Wisconsin has been flooding so much over the past week that the piers off the terrace are nearly submerged in water. We ducked into the Rathskeller when the rain started, refilling our pitchers of Spotted Cow and catching up.

At the Monona Terrace, the tears gathered in my eyes a few times, but didn't start to fall until Lauren's speech when the memories of our college days came flooding back to us who had shared such priceless times together. We danced the night away, as our group is known to do, much like the countless nights that we spent at Bros. over the years. I know of no place other than Madison where a DJ will get as astounding of a response for playing Build Me Up Buttercup, House of Pain's Jump Around, and a certain polka, that ends with a resounding When you say Wisconsin, you've said it all.

Wisconsin. What more is there to say? I looked around at the faces I knew so well and realized that these were the people who made my experience at Madison what it was. We grew up together, shared the experience that brought us to where we all are today - living our dreams, as art teachers in Minneapolis, accountants in Chicago, engineers, med students. I remember watching these people struggling though the courses in pursuit of their dreams and realized that we have all made it. Melissa joked that I won the Most Traveled Award for the distance I had flown to come back to the wedding. We both knew that it applied not only to this weekend. Those were my dreams. This is the place where I learned how to make them come true, these are the people who stood by me. They mean more to me than they could possibly know.

We moved the party to a bar near on the Square. I paused as we walked toward State Street to take in the sight of the capitol dome illuminated against the black sky. The evening finished with a slice of pizza at Ian's. Because when you're in Madison, is there really any other way to finish off the night?

temperatures are rising...

Barranquilla officially made me immune to heat and humidity. The temperature jumped up to the 90s this past weekend and the humidity isn't supposed to break for at least a few more days. Sure, it's a little annoying and sticky, but I still spent most of the weekend outside, enjoying the sunshine, not really noticing the sweat. That's all that ANYONE in this city is talking about - how damn hot it is, how they don't want to go outside for anything, heatwave heatwave heatwave, blah blah blah. My mom emailed me - I can't believe it was almost 100 degrees in NYC yesterday! My thoughts were really?? it couldn't have possibly been that hot.

I think there's definitely costeño blood running through my veins.

Hot town, Summer in the City...

Run like the city and never ever stop. Run like its power is the muscle in your legs. Run like the speed of a New York Minute is a time you can beat. Take your cue from Fred Lebow and memorize your second hand. Run like a restored Grand Central and don't stop until you see stars. Let the dreams of New York's tenants be your inspiration to finish first. Run like you're late for breakfast at Tiffany's and your name isn't Golightly for a reason. Begin your sprint confident you can turn West 4th into West 10th just like that. Run a time so nice, you'd run it twice. Run like anything is possible. Run like you can't be stopped. Run like you love New York and if you can make it here you can make it, well, you know the words. Run like the city.

Run like you've hit the triple digits and there's no end in sight. Break a runner's sweat. Break a past record. Run like a Fifth Avenue penthouse and have the best view in the city - the one from the front of the pack. Run like the UWS and put some jazz in your step. Chart a course like the menu at Big Nick's and continues on and on and on. Run like Riverside Park and trace the shore. Push it like the GW and connect determination to domination. Run like Tavern on the Green and pop the question. Feel the adrenaline course through your veins. Ask that special split second to be yours forever. Lay it all out on the line. On your legs and lungs. Show the world that your feet mean what they say. That you're a New York runner. Run like the city.

Run like the skyline and tower over your personal best. Run until your second wind scrapes the sky. Leave your legs in awe. Run like Letterman and make sure this race is in your personal top ten. Run like the Great White Way and break a PR instead of a leg. Be the longest-running on Broadway. Run aggressive like a cabbie and flip tired the bird. Sprint like Trump and tell your burning lungs it's just business, nothing personal. Run like you're spreading the news. Spreading your stride. Spreading out the mileage. Run like the city.

Run funky and fresh. From Chinatown to Chelsea. Run like a diplomat and unite the East and West Sides. Join two shores with one route. Welcome new miles like Lady Liberty. Run like you have an appointment with the Brooklyn Bridge. Span fatigue and suspend worry. Run like your calves are carved from granite and your quads are strong as steel. Run like Wall Street and increase your speed exponentially. Run like Gramercy Park and be the key that unlocks the gate to farther and faster. Forge on to the finish like there's no number you can't get - even the one to Milk & Honey. Cut across Gansevoort and don't stop thumping - when the clubbers are headed home, you're still out running. Run like the city.

- Niketown, RUNNYC

Madtown or bust...

It has been way too long since I spent some quality time back in the heart of Wisconsin, chilling on the terrace over a pitcher of Spotted Cow, too long since the Chadbourne girls were reunited, too long since I escaped Up North to spend the day doing nothing but jet skiing and water skiing and catching up with my best friend.


I'll be back in a week.

take what you can from your dreams, make them as real as anything...

When mentally and physically training your body, heart, and mind to run 26.2 miles, inspiration comes in small, but surprisingly powerful doses.

Exploring a different side of New York City. Running under the Brooklyn Bridge at dusk.

Those nights when you fall easily into your groove. The pace is comfortable, the level of humidity is right, you feel like you could run for hours, your push through the hills and refuse to let yourself walk because any incline in Central Park is nothing compared to what's waiting out in SF. Only a few weeks into training and the miles are starting to get easier to add on.

The song that comes up on your iPod, syncs with your footsteps and your heartbeat, and you press repeat over and over and over.

Ramon. Our coach. His ridiculous Spanglish emails detailing our work-outs, which will never be canceled for rain, but could possibly be changed if American Idol or Grey's Anatomy is moved to Tuesday nights. I think he's only half joking. He is training for a 100-mile ultramarathon. During one of our trail runs a few weeks ago, I asked him how the hell you complete an event like that. His answer: Go to the start line. Run for about 20 hours. Cross the finish line. Simple as that. He has also already raised over $50,000 for LLS through TNT. He makes all of our goals seem so much more attainable.

The post-run stretch and energy bar waiting for you.

The people who support you, yet don't even know you. My running buddy and I rounded the last corner of our run tonight, the end point was in sight, a quarter mile ahead of us, and two little kids, not more than 5 or 6 years old shouted out "YOU'RE AWESOME" and "YOU GIRLS ARE SO TALL!". They sat on the grass and continued to cheer on everyone else behind us. We sprinted to the end.

The incredible sense of community.