Well, after nearly 13 hours of travel time from Scotland to Belfast via a taxi, a bus and a ferry, then from Belfast to Dublin via another taxi and more buses, I made it to the small seaside town of Dun Laoghaire on Monday night.
On the morning of my departure, I got up at 5 (no alarm) and went for a run along the seaside in Ayr. I was the first to breakfast in my cute little inn and then made it to the train station before most had even awoken. Leaving Ayr at 8:40 or so, I took a lovely coach ride along the coast to the ferry terminal, nearly an hour and a half away. Then once on the ferry, I sat near the window and snoozed (don't tell Mrs. Poole) as we crossed the Irish Sea. When I arrived in Belfast, I taxied from the terminal to the bus station with a very animated driver who professed his love for me, and then, narrowly escaping his advances, I got the Air Coach to Dublin. The major benefit of the Air Coach is that it has wifi, although this must have been the first coach ever used because the interior of the bus was pretty worn, and that's putting it lightly.
I arrived at Dublin airport shortly after 5 pm and took the next Air Coach to my destination of Foxrock, just south of Dublin. My Airbnb hostess picked me up here and drove me to her house. She lives in a cute little cottage just ten minutes walking from Dun Laoghaire. When I moved to Dublin in 2011, I had considered finding a flat in the area. It's a pleasant little town, but at that time, I had decided I needed to be closer to the "action" of Dublin. For this trip, I felt ok being out here because I've done Dublin so many times and this trip was meant to be a little more relaxing.
I was happy Monday night to have a cuppa tea with my hostess before freshening up and then going into town for dinner. She drove me to a place she recommended, a little Italian restaurant called Oliveto. I sat at the bar and thoroughly enjoyed my meal. It was too much to eat so I brought home leftovers, but the pasta was amazing (and that I finished). I wrote a review for them immediately and seriously considered going back last night.
Yesterday was my first full day back in Ireland so I woke up, not so early, and decided to take a walk. I wasn't pressed for time or racing out to see anything...I know this area well as I visited here often when I lived in Dublin. I brought my sister and mother here on their visits and came often to the farmers' market on the weekends (I'll sadly miss it this trip).
I set out yesterday morning just before 11 after having some yummy yogurt with fresh raspberries and a cuppa tea. I walked the 10 minutes downhill towards Dun Laoghaire, turned left to go into the town, walked all the way down the main street, then headed back towards the sea. Along the way, I stopped in several little charity shops (the UK and Ireland are chock full of them and they are great places to find little trinkets as well as cheap books). In one shop, the first book I picked up was The Healer Within, a book using traditional Chinese techniques to release your body's own medicine. I purchased it for a whopping 1 Euro. I guess you can take the girl out of China but you can't take China out of the girl! ;)
I walked down past the yacht club and all the way out to the old light house (which now houses an ice cream shop) at the end of the pier. After walking all the way back up, I headed further down the seaside to an area where I finally sat in the sun to rest a few minutes. I read a few pages of my new book, but my stomach started growling so I headed up towards the little town of Glasthule which borders Dun Laoghaire. There is a darling shop here called 64 Wine in which Mom and I ate before. I went in to have my lunch here, debating what to get, but settling on a caprese ciabatta. Honestly, it probably wasn't the best choice as there was little flavor, but the olives they served along side the sandwich were good and made me, at about 1 o'clock, crave a dirty martini. I resisted the temptation and instead set out walking again.
I stopped in many little shops here: an antique store where I once bought earrings, a few small grocery shops where lots of special items can be found, clothing shops, and a great new art gallery. After passing through this area, I set out uphill again towards Dalkey, another area Mom and I visited. There are lots of little museums and things to do along these walks, including the James Joyce Museum and Tower as well as the Dalkey Castle Historic Center, but I've done most of them before, so this trip was more about just walking.
In Dalkey, I went in every little grocer I could find. There are so many specialty shops here. I could do some serious shopping for dinner planning. I thought about purchasing some things, but I wanted to keep walking and I knew things would spoil if I bought...yesterday was the nicest day Dublin's seen all summer and it was pretty hot for what the city normally gets.
On my way out of Dalkey, I grabbed an Italian ice, pineapple, and walked back towards Sandycove. Getting a little tired again, and wanting to read more of my new book, I found a little marina where I sat and soaked in the sun, listened to the seagulls' music and the waves crashing, and read a bit more about self healing. I think it's a bit ironic as I truly believe the wind and the ocean can heal, so my breathing was deep and purposeful while sitting there taking it all in.
Knowing I had a bit more walking to do before getting "home," I closed my book and headed back towards the cottage. I stopped in a few more shops or peeked in windows along the way, and finally made it back the cottage around 4. It seemed as if I had been walking all day, but really I'd only been out a few hours. Feeling pretty tired though, and wanting to enjoy the sun more, I went out in the back garden and read a bit more of my book. I changed into shorts to try and get sun on my oh so white legs, but my shoulders were so red that I quickly came back inside. Yesterday was absolutely gorgeous and I was outside for most of it, so I don't feel like I missed out on sitting inside a little while.
After a few hours of resting, writing reviews, chatting with friends via text and Facebook, etc., I finally got up and showered for dinner. I had considered making something myself, but sort of wanted to go back in town to eat. I poured a glass of wine (a bottle I bought in Glasgow and have been toting around with me) and then when finished, walked down to the seaside to a place I'd read about called The Hen House. I had considered going back to the Italian place, and honestly, should have done so.
The service at The Hen House was pretty mediocre. The food was ok, but not outstanding, and the atmosphere was much less intimate than Oliveto. I ate a fried brie starter and then had the lamb for my main. Nothing was stellar and with the lack of good service, probably isn't a place I'll ever go again.
After walking back after dinner, I checked my phone for the number of steps I'd taken yesterday. I walked a total of 10.47 miles and took a massive 25,457 steps. Insane. After all that, I came home and did sit-ups because I was feeling so full from dinner!
I watched my fav "Come Dine With Me" on 4 on Demand (a website where you can stream shows from the UK and Ireland) and then went to bed late, around midnight. This morning I woke and decided to take it easy for the beginning half of the day because I'm meeting a friend in the city later this afternoon.
I am so very happy to be back. People often ask me if I'd ever live here again and I have a hard time deciding to be honest. There are parts of this city that I really love. I feel so at home here, but there are also things that I don't care so much for and so I have to weigh out the pros and cons. I do feel I could live in Ireland again, but perhaps somewhere other than Dublin. Who knows. For now, I will enjoy feeling "at home" and in a week, I'll actually be home in Charleston. What a summer!!
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Birthday Hike-Honoring My Dad's 75th
Cool breezes and calming sounds of the rain enter my window as I sit here writing in my little room at the Oak Tree Inn. Today is June 25 and would have been my daddy's 75th birthday. Because it's a special day, I wanted to spend my time doing something he'd enjoy. Prior to arriving in this little Scottish town, I knew I'd be traveling this summer and thought about what part of the UK my dad most enjoyed when I brought the family over here. He and Edgar seemed to really like Scotland and preferred it over some other areas we visited.
My daddy loved the outdoors. He often took us to the mountains where we'd walk the trails and he'd point out the vegetation and life along the path. He often took my brother hunting and fishing, and I occasionally went along with them. Whenever out in nature, Daddy would make sure to remind us of our connection to the earth. Much like the Native Americans, Daddy believed we should show appreciation for the things we take from the earth, whether it be plant or animal. In his later years, Daddy said that he hunted no longer with the intention of shooting anything, but rather just to be out there and to be able to observe the beauty around him.
I'm like my dad in that I love being outside, but as I've said, I'm not super outdoorsy. I like to go for walks or runs and I enjoy feeling the sun on my skin, but I don't usually combine being outside and exerting too much energy (Great Wall Half excluded). I've never been very sporty and so when it comes to "outdoor activities," I prefer the low key kind. Dad used to practice Tai Chi, for example, so that's one habit I've adopted.
To honor Dad on his birthday, I thought that Daddy would appreciate a simple hike. I figured that I'd be able to manage something easy as a way to pay tribute to him. I asked a friend from home who now lives in Glasgow to organize a hike near a loch. I told him the purpose of my request, and he planned the trip. I came, pretty blindly, with him to an area called Balmaha near Loch Lomond in Scotland.
We set out this morning after a nice Scottish breakfast of tomatoes, mushrooms, sausages and bacon (I skipped the eggs and the haggis!). I had said repeatedly that I was not a hiker and didn't want to be rock climbing, but he assured me it was "easy." After the first 20 minutes or so, I thought the incline would kill me; climbing stairs was my least favorite part of the race in Beijing. We got to the bottom of Conic Hill and set on towards the top. This wasn't too terribly bad, although I definitely worked up a sweat. When we got to one section pretty high up, I made the executive decision to not go all the way to the top as it looked really steep. I was only in my running shoes so I wasn't sure how easy it'd be for me to continue on the rocks. When we got to this point, I said I'd like to take ten minutes because it was a gorgeous spot and I wanted to have a little quiet time to pray and meditate.
I laid out my rain jacket so as to not sit directly on the wet ground, set my alarm on my phone, and got into position on the corner of the hill where I could overlook the lake and other gorgeous surroundings. Closing my eyes, I began to pray. I spoke to both my Heavenly father and my earthly father in Heaven. I went back and forth between the two of them thanking them for guiding me through so many stages of my life. I breathed in and out in slow deep breaths taking in the fresh air and letting it circulate through my body, imagining its power to cleanse and renew.
Just before the 10 minute alarm went off, I heard some people coming up the path behind me and I slowly opened my eyes to reacclimate myself to my surroundings. This was an emotional minute or two. The view that was before me was absolutely breathtaking. You see, I'm not a super athletic person who wants to climb the mountain, but being up on top and having a view that overlooks such a magnificent part of God's creation made it all worth it...even if going down would prove more challenging. Spiritually on top of that hill, I felt very connected, and that was the whole point of hiking this morning. I wanted to connect to both Dad and my Heavenly father, I wanted to connect to the earth, and I wanted to breathe that fresh air so as to rid my body of the pollutants it's inhaled or consumed after living in China. I do believe there is magic in a deep breath of fresh air; whether it be saltwater or mountain, it's healing.
After meditating, my friend and I headed back down the hill, but off the beaten path. We went straight over the edge where there were lots of tiny little rocks we used as stepping stones. My anxiety level shot up as my legs shakily took me down the hill. I was pretty nervous, to be honest. Thankfully, my "guide" patiently and supportingly helped me descend, and when we got down he said, "Look back...that's what you just did" as a way to help ease my nerves. I felt proud looking back at my accomplishment. It's pretty awesome actually, that I managed to get all the way back down and not hurt myself!
The hike today was a little more adventurous than I had intended, but it was a good way to honor Dad this morning, and for me also to have time to reconnect with myself. Living in what most deem a concrete jungle, I long for green grass and fresh air. I believe that being here in Scotland will rejuvenate me. As I walked down the "mountain," grasping the rocks and concentrating on not falling, I tried also to look around at my surroundings. This is the place fairy tales are written. There's magic in these hills and I thank the good Lord I was able to be part of it today. I think my dad enjoyed it too. I've felt his presence again stronger here lately, and I know, as always, he was with me.
Happy Birthday Daddy.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
A Better Beijing and the Amazing Race
Sometime in 2014, a friend of mine from high school asked me if I wanted to do the Great Wall Half Marathon since I'm now living in China. I think I've written of this before. He asked, I agreed somewhat reluctantly, then he backed out because of military duties and I was left to do the race alone. I asked a friend from work to join me and she, although not a runner, said yes. I started training in November, but because I was already running a decent amount, I didn't have to get too serious until February/March of this year. My friend Jackie hadn't really ever run (she's super fit because of her Acro interests), so she had to get proper shoes and test the waters, so to speak. We both trained in slightly different ways. I was good for distance, Jackie was prepared for the stairs. Last weekend, our hard work in both areas paid off.
On Thursday afternoon Jackie and I left school and had a driver take us to the bus station, also known as the Dongguan airport, where we then checked in for our flight. This place is in the downstairs of a big building in Dongguan and although called the "airport" has no airplane larger than a model toy. It's a strange place honestly. Once you've checked in, you take a bus to the airport in Guangzhou which is nearly two hours away from Dongguan. When we had arrived at the actual airport, we boarded our life size plane and headed on our way to Beijing.
We were both excited because neither of us had been to Beijing before. I expected the city to be extremely polluted and dirty. I think Jackie expected the same. To our pleasant surprise, after a good night's sleep at the Beijing International Hotel, Jackie and I set out Friday morning for a day of touring the city and found that Beijing was actually quite the opposite of what we thought it would be. Walking down the road from our hotel to the Forbidden Palace, we were in awe of the cool weather, the clear blue sky, and the lovely smell of roses. Everywhere there were roses. The grass was well manicured along the roadside, and the streets, although 8 lanes across and rather full of cars, were quiet. I couldn't get over it. I felt as if we were in the twilight zone.
We headed down a side street which we had been persuaded to travel by a local guy who just so happened to say he was going the same place we were. Before you jump to attention in worry, it wasn't a dark little alley way and the older gentleman's only sneaky plan was to get us to buy art. Jackie and I knew he was up to something when he began leading us off our path, but it was a great discovery actually, this little road we wandered. We found a few stalls of street food where we grabbed our breakfast, amazingly delicious steamed buns. I am reluctant to buy street food as I never know whether or not it will make me sick, but these were fantastic. Each of us got one vegetable and one meat.
Later, we stumbled upon a precious little poetry cafe. This is the kind of place Jackie and I both could hang out for a few hours on a Saturday afternoon. Downstairs was set to look like someone's living room. There was a little table and chairs on the right side of the space and the left wall had shelves of books and trinkets. There was a guitar in the corner. Directly in front of you when you walked in was the kitchen and ordering counter. Tiny narrow stairs took you upstairs to what I thought would be someone's loft, but actually was more seating. These chairs were plush and more comfortable than the options downstairs. More books lined the walls and art work from various places, mostly photographs, adorned the walls. We didn't have a coffee or anything, but rather bought postcards and headed back on our journey towards the Forbidden Palace.
Easily enough, although probably not the most direct route, we came to the entrance. We paid our ticket fee and wandered through the massive space trying to admire the palace itself. I made a comment that perhaps it wasn't as powerful to me as it would be to a person who had studied Chinese history. I know so little...I really couldn't appreciate it to the extent that I had hoped. It's not a beautiful property like some of the places I know and love in Europe, or even Charleston. I will say, however, that the gardens were lovely and became my favorite part of the tour.
After our visit to the palace, we crossed the street to visit a park (the name escapes me). We climbed the stairs to the overlook where we had a nice view of the city. We headed back down the stairs to the peony garden. I love peonies. I miss flowers and I miss plush green grass beneath my feet. I live in a concrete jungle now, so I took my shoes off and stood in the grass in the garden there. Had I not been ready for lunch, I'd have stayed longer, connecting with the earth.
When Jackie and I left, we headed out, with no particular direction other than an idea, and found a street with many Western shops. First we passed this precious little church though and I got a great shot of the building with that gorgeous blue sky in the background. It so reminded me of a picture I took in New Orleans.
The area we had found was the district the hotel concierge had suggested we visit. I suppose she assumed all Westerners are more interested in Zara and H & M than the history of the city. This is not the case of course, but still, I haven't seen clothing stores where I can shop for myself since I was home in Charleston so I did pop in. I bought a cute skirt and top and then Jackie and I headed back outside where we found a very Chinese area. The two streets which ran perpendicular to one another were crowded, noisy, and bustling with life. I videoed what I could. It was the first time I'd ever seen scorpions and other creatures on skewers. They were live by the way. We each grabbed other items for our lunch, dumplings for me, super spicy ones. We walked up and down the street then decided we were on overload and needed to decompress in the cool someplace. It wasn't a particularly hot day and the humidity was low, but we wanted to sit and gather thoughts. My phone was about dead too so where did we decide to go to recharge...every Westerner's staple...Starbucks.
Sitting in Starbucks I overheard some people speaking and found out that one girl was from Atlanta, the other was clearly American but I didn't ask where from, I'm guessing Chicago. They worked and had children who attended ISB...the International School of Beijing. Funny how I picked them out the crowd.
After my phone had enough charge to use Google Maps to get us home, Jackie and I set back out. We ended up getting a rickshaw, my first in China, to take us back to the hotel. We were planning to go out to dinner, but I was worried about time because our bus for the race would be leaving at 3:30 am and I also realized that my feet were swelling a bit from all the walking so I thought perhaps we should take it easy. Jackie agreed, and we went to the hotel spa for a massage. It was the most expensive massage I've had in China, about $100 USD for an hour and a half. It was a "Chinese massage and foot rub" which means your clothes are one. It's not my favorite option, but it was good enough and the room was gorgeous. There was a huge jacuzzi tub in the middle of the room and a massage table with flowers in the center next to it. Jackie and I had hers and hers chairs, much like recliners, for our massages. Clearly this was a space for honeymooners, etc.
After our massages we went back up to the room and decided to order room service so we could eat and get to bed early. We each chose pasta, Jackie had one with fish and I had a mushroom cream sauce. It was nothing to write home about, but it would do the trick. We needed carbs before Saturday's race, so I ate what I could, although my appetite wasn't great, and we went to bed probably by 8 or 9.
At 2:45 the next morning, the alarms went off and Jackie and I both got up to get ourselves ready. I had showered the night before and only needed to wash my face and brush my teeth before lathering up in sunscreen and putting on my race day clothes. We each made a bowl of our instant oatmeal and I attempted to get down what I could of that awful mush. I drank a cup of hot green tea and then suffered through a cup, my very first cup actually, of instant coffee. I don't drink coffee, but I was desperate to make myself go to the bathroom. You see, two days prior, I had suffered from an overly active stomach as many do in China, so I had taken anti-diarehal medicine. It was apparently still in my system and so I wasn't able to go like I normally would have been able to before running. I was terrified this would cause me major issues during the race. I literally prayed and prayed for a bowel movement (sorry if that's unpleasant) and after the three hour bus ride to the Great Wall, was able to have the slightest success.
It was go time. Jackie and I were FREEZING as the sun hadn't quite come up and neither of us prepared by wearing warm clothing. Note to self. Next year wear pants and take a fleece to put in storage before the race begins. In our shorts and sleeveless tops, we were shivering from the cold. The square was full of life though and soon an aerobics instructor came on the stage to help us all get warmed up. I didn't exactly participate but I danced around in my own little corner of the square while Jackie did the routine. After an hour, the race was about to begin. Jackie and I were in phase 3, so we went up to start line to encourage those who were setting off first. The countdown began and they took off, then Jackie and I raced to the porta-lets to try and use the bathroom one last time. We got in our places afterwards, took a pre race photo, I said a prayer, and then we too set off.
The first three miles were unbelievably hard in the sense that they were uphill and by the time I got to the top I thought my legs might fall off. Incline...next year train with more incline. Once we got to the base of the wall, most people stopped running. A) It's nearly impossible to run the stairs because of how steep they are and B) There were so many people on the wall you can only move at as snail's pace anyway. Jackie had gone on ahead because she tends to run a little faster than me anyway, so we had agreed to meet at the finish line. Slow and steady wins the race for me. I was never worried about speed. I wanted to do it in about 3 hours. That was my only goal, oh that and to finish on my own two feet, uninjured.
The wall itself was intense. There is no other way to describe it. It is up and down and up and down and some stairs were so steep I had to grasp the wall and REACH with my short little legs. Some stairs were so close together that made it hard to find a rhythm. Do I take one at a time, do I skip stairs? At a few points, I thought I might fall. I held the wall so tightly. My legs were shaking. My neck was hurting because I had been looking down for so long, nearly two hours to be exact. I was scared, honestly. Finally, after about two miles of this, we passed the place were the race began and the wall portion of the half marathon was over. Now we had to run through the village.
The first two miles of this portion were on a paved road. This wasn't too difficult. People were standing all along the road cheering us on and giving us high fives. Children, little old ladies, you name it. Their spirit and enthusiasm was infecting. Then we went through a smaller village along what I believe was called Goat Path. I know why now...there were legitimate goats blocking the road at times. Running this wasn't too hard though. The ground was uneven and I had been warned to watch my footing, so that I did. Then we went up. I was with another person I'd met a long the way, a former teacher from DC. She said she couldn't believe the quality of the path. It wasn't a path. It was more like one person went up so we all followed. I wish I had pictures of this area. It was narrow, steep, rocky, and a bit dangerous.
We circled around and through the village and I have to admit I ended up walking a little bit here. Then a guy passed me, a guy I'd seen in the first phase take off for the marathon. As he passed he said, "Come on, don't quit now, you got it." Right behind him another marathon runner passed, one I'd noticed also in the first wave because he was wearing a North Carolina t-shirt. He said the same, "Come on. Keep going!" I thought of my friend Mary Beth; she'd tell me to run, so I did. These two guys had given me the boost of energy and moral I needed (I had also taken an energy gel at mile 9).
I started running again. I think I was at mile 10 by this time. The rest of the race would be on the paved section of the road again. I could do this. This was flat, the home stretch. I ran, and ran, and then, ugh, walked, but then ran again and eventually, I FINISHED. I came in at 3 hours 24 minutes, just at the 3 hour mark I wanted. Yes, I would have preferred to be under that time, but I had never run a half marathon before and I'd certainly NEVER anticipated the Great Wall to be easy, so I'm extremely proud of myself. What a rush. Going through that finish line and getting my medal was...magic. I was on a high...cloud nine. Jackie and I met up and ate our Subway sandwiches after my stomach had settled a little. I had been a little nauseous at first. Actually, Jackie had already eaten one of her subs and a banana. I knew I needed to eat quickly, but first I drank two waters. I had been hydrating the whole way and ran most of the race with a water bottle stuck in my bra, but I couldn't eat immediately. A short time later I had the first of my two subs, then was able to eat the second. I've never eaten so much in one sitting, but they say you have to eat to make sure your muscles don't deteriorate.
Jackie and I went and had massages, filthy dirty and covered with layers of salt from sweat, but everyone else was doing it and the "therapists" didn't seem to mind. We had grabbed beers and then when our massages were over, we got on the bus to head back to the hotel. What a morning it had been.
I looked at my phone and it said I'd taken over 36,000 steps so far that day. That's insane to me. The sky was so blue and the day so perfect. I knew my angels were with me and I was feeling so blessed. Jackie and I had done it. We had completed a race that some only dream of and others can't possibly even fathom. It was less about the race and more about the Great Wall in my opinion, but together, the two made an amazing experience. I'll definitely do it again next year. Even though the next day was spent icing my knees and ankles, even though I could hardly walk for three more days after the race, it was totally worth it. I am so proud of us and feel so lucky to have been able to participate in something so massive on one of the world's most famous monuments.
*Side note, I was speaking to someone yesterday and it hadn't occurred to me before, but there is a strong likelihood that the pollution was nearly nonexistent in Beijing last weekend because this was such an international event. It's said that more than likely, the factories were shut down so that the visitors to Beijing wouldn't see the true state of things. I don't know if there is truth to this or not, but I did find it rather suspicious that a city known for its pollution would have such beautiful skies for two days straight. Leaving on Sunday, the sky was much more gray. Interesting none the less.
On Thursday afternoon Jackie and I left school and had a driver take us to the bus station, also known as the Dongguan airport, where we then checked in for our flight. This place is in the downstairs of a big building in Dongguan and although called the "airport" has no airplane larger than a model toy. It's a strange place honestly. Once you've checked in, you take a bus to the airport in Guangzhou which is nearly two hours away from Dongguan. When we had arrived at the actual airport, we boarded our life size plane and headed on our way to Beijing.
We were both excited because neither of us had been to Beijing before. I expected the city to be extremely polluted and dirty. I think Jackie expected the same. To our pleasant surprise, after a good night's sleep at the Beijing International Hotel, Jackie and I set out Friday morning for a day of touring the city and found that Beijing was actually quite the opposite of what we thought it would be. Walking down the road from our hotel to the Forbidden Palace, we were in awe of the cool weather, the clear blue sky, and the lovely smell of roses. Everywhere there were roses. The grass was well manicured along the roadside, and the streets, although 8 lanes across and rather full of cars, were quiet. I couldn't get over it. I felt as if we were in the twilight zone.
We headed down a side street which we had been persuaded to travel by a local guy who just so happened to say he was going the same place we were. Before you jump to attention in worry, it wasn't a dark little alley way and the older gentleman's only sneaky plan was to get us to buy art. Jackie and I knew he was up to something when he began leading us off our path, but it was a great discovery actually, this little road we wandered. We found a few stalls of street food where we grabbed our breakfast, amazingly delicious steamed buns. I am reluctant to buy street food as I never know whether or not it will make me sick, but these were fantastic. Each of us got one vegetable and one meat.
Later, we stumbled upon a precious little poetry cafe. This is the kind of place Jackie and I both could hang out for a few hours on a Saturday afternoon. Downstairs was set to look like someone's living room. There was a little table and chairs on the right side of the space and the left wall had shelves of books and trinkets. There was a guitar in the corner. Directly in front of you when you walked in was the kitchen and ordering counter. Tiny narrow stairs took you upstairs to what I thought would be someone's loft, but actually was more seating. These chairs were plush and more comfortable than the options downstairs. More books lined the walls and art work from various places, mostly photographs, adorned the walls. We didn't have a coffee or anything, but rather bought postcards and headed back on our journey towards the Forbidden Palace.
Easily enough, although probably not the most direct route, we came to the entrance. We paid our ticket fee and wandered through the massive space trying to admire the palace itself. I made a comment that perhaps it wasn't as powerful to me as it would be to a person who had studied Chinese history. I know so little...I really couldn't appreciate it to the extent that I had hoped. It's not a beautiful property like some of the places I know and love in Europe, or even Charleston. I will say, however, that the gardens were lovely and became my favorite part of the tour.
After our visit to the palace, we crossed the street to visit a park (the name escapes me). We climbed the stairs to the overlook where we had a nice view of the city. We headed back down the stairs to the peony garden. I love peonies. I miss flowers and I miss plush green grass beneath my feet. I live in a concrete jungle now, so I took my shoes off and stood in the grass in the garden there. Had I not been ready for lunch, I'd have stayed longer, connecting with the earth.
When Jackie and I left, we headed out, with no particular direction other than an idea, and found a street with many Western shops. First we passed this precious little church though and I got a great shot of the building with that gorgeous blue sky in the background. It so reminded me of a picture I took in New Orleans.
The area we had found was the district the hotel concierge had suggested we visit. I suppose she assumed all Westerners are more interested in Zara and H & M than the history of the city. This is not the case of course, but still, I haven't seen clothing stores where I can shop for myself since I was home in Charleston so I did pop in. I bought a cute skirt and top and then Jackie and I headed back outside where we found a very Chinese area. The two streets which ran perpendicular to one another were crowded, noisy, and bustling with life. I videoed what I could. It was the first time I'd ever seen scorpions and other creatures on skewers. They were live by the way. We each grabbed other items for our lunch, dumplings for me, super spicy ones. We walked up and down the street then decided we were on overload and needed to decompress in the cool someplace. It wasn't a particularly hot day and the humidity was low, but we wanted to sit and gather thoughts. My phone was about dead too so where did we decide to go to recharge...every Westerner's staple...Starbucks.
Sitting in Starbucks I overheard some people speaking and found out that one girl was from Atlanta, the other was clearly American but I didn't ask where from, I'm guessing Chicago. They worked and had children who attended ISB...the International School of Beijing. Funny how I picked them out the crowd.
After my phone had enough charge to use Google Maps to get us home, Jackie and I set back out. We ended up getting a rickshaw, my first in China, to take us back to the hotel. We were planning to go out to dinner, but I was worried about time because our bus for the race would be leaving at 3:30 am and I also realized that my feet were swelling a bit from all the walking so I thought perhaps we should take it easy. Jackie agreed, and we went to the hotel spa for a massage. It was the most expensive massage I've had in China, about $100 USD for an hour and a half. It was a "Chinese massage and foot rub" which means your clothes are one. It's not my favorite option, but it was good enough and the room was gorgeous. There was a huge jacuzzi tub in the middle of the room and a massage table with flowers in the center next to it. Jackie and I had hers and hers chairs, much like recliners, for our massages. Clearly this was a space for honeymooners, etc.
After our massages we went back up to the room and decided to order room service so we could eat and get to bed early. We each chose pasta, Jackie had one with fish and I had a mushroom cream sauce. It was nothing to write home about, but it would do the trick. We needed carbs before Saturday's race, so I ate what I could, although my appetite wasn't great, and we went to bed probably by 8 or 9.
At 2:45 the next morning, the alarms went off and Jackie and I both got up to get ourselves ready. I had showered the night before and only needed to wash my face and brush my teeth before lathering up in sunscreen and putting on my race day clothes. We each made a bowl of our instant oatmeal and I attempted to get down what I could of that awful mush. I drank a cup of hot green tea and then suffered through a cup, my very first cup actually, of instant coffee. I don't drink coffee, but I was desperate to make myself go to the bathroom. You see, two days prior, I had suffered from an overly active stomach as many do in China, so I had taken anti-diarehal medicine. It was apparently still in my system and so I wasn't able to go like I normally would have been able to before running. I was terrified this would cause me major issues during the race. I literally prayed and prayed for a bowel movement (sorry if that's unpleasant) and after the three hour bus ride to the Great Wall, was able to have the slightest success.
It was go time. Jackie and I were FREEZING as the sun hadn't quite come up and neither of us prepared by wearing warm clothing. Note to self. Next year wear pants and take a fleece to put in storage before the race begins. In our shorts and sleeveless tops, we were shivering from the cold. The square was full of life though and soon an aerobics instructor came on the stage to help us all get warmed up. I didn't exactly participate but I danced around in my own little corner of the square while Jackie did the routine. After an hour, the race was about to begin. Jackie and I were in phase 3, so we went up to start line to encourage those who were setting off first. The countdown began and they took off, then Jackie and I raced to the porta-lets to try and use the bathroom one last time. We got in our places afterwards, took a pre race photo, I said a prayer, and then we too set off.
The first three miles were unbelievably hard in the sense that they were uphill and by the time I got to the top I thought my legs might fall off. Incline...next year train with more incline. Once we got to the base of the wall, most people stopped running. A) It's nearly impossible to run the stairs because of how steep they are and B) There were so many people on the wall you can only move at as snail's pace anyway. Jackie had gone on ahead because she tends to run a little faster than me anyway, so we had agreed to meet at the finish line. Slow and steady wins the race for me. I was never worried about speed. I wanted to do it in about 3 hours. That was my only goal, oh that and to finish on my own two feet, uninjured.
The wall itself was intense. There is no other way to describe it. It is up and down and up and down and some stairs were so steep I had to grasp the wall and REACH with my short little legs. Some stairs were so close together that made it hard to find a rhythm. Do I take one at a time, do I skip stairs? At a few points, I thought I might fall. I held the wall so tightly. My legs were shaking. My neck was hurting because I had been looking down for so long, nearly two hours to be exact. I was scared, honestly. Finally, after about two miles of this, we passed the place were the race began and the wall portion of the half marathon was over. Now we had to run through the village.
The first two miles of this portion were on a paved road. This wasn't too difficult. People were standing all along the road cheering us on and giving us high fives. Children, little old ladies, you name it. Their spirit and enthusiasm was infecting. Then we went through a smaller village along what I believe was called Goat Path. I know why now...there were legitimate goats blocking the road at times. Running this wasn't too hard though. The ground was uneven and I had been warned to watch my footing, so that I did. Then we went up. I was with another person I'd met a long the way, a former teacher from DC. She said she couldn't believe the quality of the path. It wasn't a path. It was more like one person went up so we all followed. I wish I had pictures of this area. It was narrow, steep, rocky, and a bit dangerous.
We circled around and through the village and I have to admit I ended up walking a little bit here. Then a guy passed me, a guy I'd seen in the first phase take off for the marathon. As he passed he said, "Come on, don't quit now, you got it." Right behind him another marathon runner passed, one I'd noticed also in the first wave because he was wearing a North Carolina t-shirt. He said the same, "Come on. Keep going!" I thought of my friend Mary Beth; she'd tell me to run, so I did. These two guys had given me the boost of energy and moral I needed (I had also taken an energy gel at mile 9).
I started running again. I think I was at mile 10 by this time. The rest of the race would be on the paved section of the road again. I could do this. This was flat, the home stretch. I ran, and ran, and then, ugh, walked, but then ran again and eventually, I FINISHED. I came in at 3 hours 24 minutes, just at the 3 hour mark I wanted. Yes, I would have preferred to be under that time, but I had never run a half marathon before and I'd certainly NEVER anticipated the Great Wall to be easy, so I'm extremely proud of myself. What a rush. Going through that finish line and getting my medal was...magic. I was on a high...cloud nine. Jackie and I met up and ate our Subway sandwiches after my stomach had settled a little. I had been a little nauseous at first. Actually, Jackie had already eaten one of her subs and a banana. I knew I needed to eat quickly, but first I drank two waters. I had been hydrating the whole way and ran most of the race with a water bottle stuck in my bra, but I couldn't eat immediately. A short time later I had the first of my two subs, then was able to eat the second. I've never eaten so much in one sitting, but they say you have to eat to make sure your muscles don't deteriorate.
Jackie and I went and had massages, filthy dirty and covered with layers of salt from sweat, but everyone else was doing it and the "therapists" didn't seem to mind. We had grabbed beers and then when our massages were over, we got on the bus to head back to the hotel. What a morning it had been.
I looked at my phone and it said I'd taken over 36,000 steps so far that day. That's insane to me. The sky was so blue and the day so perfect. I knew my angels were with me and I was feeling so blessed. Jackie and I had done it. We had completed a race that some only dream of and others can't possibly even fathom. It was less about the race and more about the Great Wall in my opinion, but together, the two made an amazing experience. I'll definitely do it again next year. Even though the next day was spent icing my knees and ankles, even though I could hardly walk for three more days after the race, it was totally worth it. I am so proud of us and feel so lucky to have been able to participate in something so massive on one of the world's most famous monuments.
*Side note, I was speaking to someone yesterday and it hadn't occurred to me before, but there is a strong likelihood that the pollution was nearly nonexistent in Beijing last weekend because this was such an international event. It's said that more than likely, the factories were shut down so that the visitors to Beijing wouldn't see the true state of things. I don't know if there is truth to this or not, but I did find it rather suspicious that a city known for its pollution would have such beautiful skies for two days straight. Leaving on Sunday, the sky was much more gray. Interesting none the less.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
The Dongguan Children's Library
I love to read. I love to write. I do both as often as I can. One way I combine those loves is by sharing the pleasure I get from doing both with boys and girls, encouraging them to become avid readers and writers themselves. As a teacher, I get to do this daily, but as an author, I really cherish the moments I get to visit and share my books, The Adventures of Gia the Giraffe and Gia the Giraffe Goes to Dublin, because I rarely get to do so.
A few weeks ago, I was sent an email by my school director about partnering with the Dongguan Children's library. The library wanted to offer a chance for boys and girls to come and listen to books read in English. They wanted native speakers to do the reading so that the children who attended would have more exposure to the language.
Two of my Chinese colleagues and I promptly met to discuss what the library's goals were and then we searched our own school library for appropriate books to be read to children ages 6-9. I helped with this, choosing a book that would be rather easy. We then went on Pinterest to find ideas for activities we could do with the children after we finished the reading.
I was asked why I didn't want to read my own books to the kids, but as I explained, not knowing the childrens' levels of English, knowing that Gia's adventures take place far away in cities that perhaps these children have never heard of, and knowing that there are many unfamiliar words, even to native speakers, on the pages, I felt that it would not be a good starting point for us. We needed to gauge the listeners' abilities first.
The book we chose was Kite Flying, by Grace Lin. It's a simple story about making and flying a kite. It also has a lot of Chinese influence as all the character's names are Chinese and the kite itself is of Chinese design. We found a cute little craft where boys and girls could use construction paper, glue, and other art supplies to make a picture of a kite.
We visited the library one Friday afternoon a week or so ago, and I was really impressed with the venue. We decided how we could arrange tables and chairs and how we would display the story's pictures. We each had a task of preparing, and on Sunday morning, May 3rd, we went to the library at 10:30 for our hour long session.
We put the Powerpoint presentation of the book on the projector so the 20 or so kids would easily be able to see. I introduced myself and the book and then began reading. I could tell that, although they were being good listeners, very few of the children had any idea what I was saying. I read the book through, then called my colleague Lynne, a Mandarin teacher, over to the stage. She and I traded places and she read each page, in Chinese, then translated to English. She was so wonderful with the children, having them repeat the words in English and then checking for understanding. I myself could understand very little of the words now, but the children were being unbelievably attentive. She had them chorally practicing words and phrases from the book, "dragon eyes" and "laughing mouth," then she'd call on individual children and they would stand up to speak in the microphone.
After Lynne finished reading, I had her help translate, step by step, what we'd be doing for the craft. My other colleague, Vivian, helped us arrange the tables and we all monitored and assisted children in their artwork. So many wonderful ideas came to fruition during the next half an hour. We had put such a basic sample up on the screen, but these children made designs much more creatively than anything I had expected.
Although these children had very little if any English, I think they really enjoyed the book and the activity. I am eager for us to get back to the library for the next visit, and excited that this is something we can do for the children in Dongguan on a monthly basis (starting in the fall). Gia's adventures weren't shared today, but one thing that I'm working on for HubHao, a new magazine in Dongguan, is a children's section where Gia's adventures around our area of China can be recorded. I've gotten lots of ideas and today's visit to the Children's Library helped me think of even more.
Looking forward, hopefully we'll be able to get more teachers and perhaps even students from ISD to join us in our upcoming visits to the Children's Library. I personally am excited to get Gia's presence there (we're adding The Adventures of Gia the Giraffe to the library's inventory)! Reading is, of course, a valuable way we learn, and as Dr. Seuss says, "The more that you read, the more things you will know, the more that you learn, the more places you'll go!" Here's to the next great book you read, and the places it may take you!
A few weeks ago, I was sent an email by my school director about partnering with the Dongguan Children's library. The library wanted to offer a chance for boys and girls to come and listen to books read in English. They wanted native speakers to do the reading so that the children who attended would have more exposure to the language.
Two of my Chinese colleagues and I promptly met to discuss what the library's goals were and then we searched our own school library for appropriate books to be read to children ages 6-9. I helped with this, choosing a book that would be rather easy. We then went on Pinterest to find ideas for activities we could do with the children after we finished the reading.
I was asked why I didn't want to read my own books to the kids, but as I explained, not knowing the childrens' levels of English, knowing that Gia's adventures take place far away in cities that perhaps these children have never heard of, and knowing that there are many unfamiliar words, even to native speakers, on the pages, I felt that it would not be a good starting point for us. We needed to gauge the listeners' abilities first.
The book we chose was Kite Flying, by Grace Lin. It's a simple story about making and flying a kite. It also has a lot of Chinese influence as all the character's names are Chinese and the kite itself is of Chinese design. We found a cute little craft where boys and girls could use construction paper, glue, and other art supplies to make a picture of a kite.
We visited the library one Friday afternoon a week or so ago, and I was really impressed with the venue. We decided how we could arrange tables and chairs and how we would display the story's pictures. We each had a task of preparing, and on Sunday morning, May 3rd, we went to the library at 10:30 for our hour long session.
We put the Powerpoint presentation of the book on the projector so the 20 or so kids would easily be able to see. I introduced myself and the book and then began reading. I could tell that, although they were being good listeners, very few of the children had any idea what I was saying. I read the book through, then called my colleague Lynne, a Mandarin teacher, over to the stage. She and I traded places and she read each page, in Chinese, then translated to English. She was so wonderful with the children, having them repeat the words in English and then checking for understanding. I myself could understand very little of the words now, but the children were being unbelievably attentive. She had them chorally practicing words and phrases from the book, "dragon eyes" and "laughing mouth," then she'd call on individual children and they would stand up to speak in the microphone.
After Lynne finished reading, I had her help translate, step by step, what we'd be doing for the craft. My other colleague, Vivian, helped us arrange the tables and we all monitored and assisted children in their artwork. So many wonderful ideas came to fruition during the next half an hour. We had put such a basic sample up on the screen, but these children made designs much more creatively than anything I had expected.
Although these children had very little if any English, I think they really enjoyed the book and the activity. I am eager for us to get back to the library for the next visit, and excited that this is something we can do for the children in Dongguan on a monthly basis (starting in the fall). Gia's adventures weren't shared today, but one thing that I'm working on for HubHao, a new magazine in Dongguan, is a children's section where Gia's adventures around our area of China can be recorded. I've gotten lots of ideas and today's visit to the Children's Library helped me think of even more.
Looking forward, hopefully we'll be able to get more teachers and perhaps even students from ISD to join us in our upcoming visits to the Children's Library. I personally am excited to get Gia's presence there (we're adding The Adventures of Gia the Giraffe to the library's inventory)! Reading is, of course, a valuable way we learn, and as Dr. Seuss says, "The more that you read, the more things you will know, the more that you learn, the more places you'll go!" Here's to the next great book you read, and the places it may take you!
Thursday, April 30, 2015
I Must Be Crazy
A few months ago, actually back in November I think, a friend of mine from home posted on my Facebook page asking if I wanted to do the Great Wall half marathon. I had heard of the race and had considered for a moment doing it, but up until I was asked publicly, I hadn't really given it any more thought. My friend, who lives in Japan, encouraged me, saying that if he could do it, so could I, so I talked someone else here in Dongguan into joining me and we both signed up. Needless to say, my friend in Japan had to back out because of military duties. Now my friend Jackie and I are running this thing in less than a month.
First off, I should admit that I don't consider myself a runner. I never really ran in high school or college, and it was only a mile or two at most when I did. At the end of my college years, when I thought I was young and agile, I ran the Cooper River Bridge run, a 10K in Charleston, SC, without training. I did it as a last minute fill in for someone I was supposed to be babysitting for so she could run, but she got sick so I took her place. I paid the price for that decision for days. My stomach had never been in such knots. I remember lying in a ball drinking Gatorade, of which I've never been a fan, and cursing that bridge.
After that, my running was sporadic. When I moved to Ireland, I often ran down the canal from my flat in Ranelagh to Portobello, or up and around St. Stephen's Green, then it was in Italy that I started being more diligent about running. I ran most mornings when I lived in Milan, that is, when it wasn't snowing. I participated in the Stramilano 10K alone that year, and I had a blast. A friend had asked if I wanted to run it, but then she moved home to the states before the race was to take place (I'm now recognizing a pattern of friends who ask me to run, then themsleves back out!!). I actually thought I'd only signed up for the 5K, but I remember finishing the race and looking at my bib, then being so proud of myself. I ran with a bunch of crazy Italians, alone, and finished feeling great. In America, we drink after races. In Italy, I kept that tradition alive and went to the nearest cart, grabbed two beers, and sat down in front of the Duomo observing others. No one else was drinking. I began chatting with a guy and I had him take a picture so I could better hold on to that memory. I love that picture...it's still on my phone; that guy and I became Facebook friends that day come to think of it.
After moving back to the states, I kept running small distances. I participated in the Cooper River Bridge run again, this time prepared, and enjoyed leisurely runs along the Battery when I could. I ran in my neighborhood in Hanahan a couple of times a week. It was never much, 4 miles at the most, when I was running just to run. It felt good though...it was something that allowed me to clear my head.
My chiropractor wasn't and isn't very happy with me, but I do enjoy running now and again. She's told me many times to quit. She's worried about my back and my knees, but I've been a bad patient and I've kept on. I try to be cognizant of my "issues" when I'm running though. I know my back can give me major problems (I have titanium rods down either side of my spine), but I am very conscious of how I place my feet to land, how I align my spine and hips.
I don't think I'm a runner and I don't plan to run marathons the rest of my life, but I'm living in China, and in less than a month there's this awesome race that takes place on the Great Wall, so I am doing it. I am terrified though.
Since November, I've been running more regularly and trying to keep up with a schedule for preparing for a half marathon. Actually, for the past several months, I've been ahead of my schedule. I only just recently had to start making gains...going a greater distance. Last Saturday, I ran my first 8 miles ever. I knew I had to do it, and apparently I was dreading it.
I woke up Saturday morning, and like most mornings, didn't open my eyes. I knew if I did I'd be awake, and I really wanted a little more sleep. A few hours later, by the time I did open my eyes, I felt sure that it must be at least 12 or 1. I knew I had slept the whole morning. I had been dreading getting up for the run, so that was ok with me. I looked at my phone to check the time; it was 8 am. Geez.
I got up and read a few blogs looking for what to eat before a long run. I settled on some oatmeal because what most of the blogs said was to not introduce anything new. I hate bananas, I didn't have a lot of other options here, so I made my oatmeal with some peanut butter and a few chocolate chips...hey, I was about to burn major calories...don't judge.
I ate breakfast and tried to drink several glasses of water. I needed to wait half an hour to run after eating, or so I'd read, so I went on the Great Wall Marathon website and re-read the info on the race...huge mistake. I got so nervous that I started to have an anxiety attack. I did a devotional and then tried to meditate to calm myself down. I couldn't clear my mind though. I was freaking out...honestly. Shaking almost...so scared. I knew I had to do this though; I had signed up. I'm not one to give up on myself, and if I set my mind to something, then I at least want to try.
Once I mustered up the courage, I got dressed, put some money and a granola bar in a ziplock bag, stuffed that bag between my breasts (when it comes to running, this is the only benefit of being slightly larger in the chest), and set out. I turned on my Sirius Radio and Map My Run, did a few last stretches, and went on my way.
I had decided I'd need to refuel to make the full 8 miles. I've never stopped, not even in the 10K races I've done. I always push through, but for this, I figured I needed to have a boost of energy. I have noticed that my energy has been depleted a lot during my 6 mile runs lately, so I didn't want that to happen to me for this 8 mile. I had mapped out in my head how I could run just under three miles, stop at a convenience store by my house, grab a Gatorade, and then keep moving. This I did. It's actually a benefit of running in a big city like Dongguan. I knew if I had some money with me, I could easily stop to grab a drink along the way. I'm pretty aware of my milage marks so I knew I'd pass several of these little stores even if I hadn't planned it out.
The first few miles were a little harder than they normally are. I think it was my nerves still. My feet just didn't want to pick up off the ground. It could also be the fact that last Saturday was very humid and highly polluted. Training for a marathon, or even a half for that matter, in China, is probably a little more difficult than training in other cleaner air cities. Despite these difficulties though, I made it to the convenience store and got a Gatorade. I drank a few sips and then carried the bottle with me so I could drink a little more at my next stop, if I needed. I also couldn't stand the thought of wasting a whole bottle for just a few sips...I think I'm my mother's daughter.
I ran only one more mile and had to stop. I was dying. I was dizzy. I tried walking a little ways (timer off and not adding this to my mileage), but I was feeling quite strange...I'll still blame that on nerves. I drank more Gatorade and then after a little rest (I even let myself sit down a few minutes), I got back up. You see, I'd been praying the whole time...the whole first 4 miles, I prayed. I asked God to give me the energy...to protect my back, to strengthen my knees. I wanted to give up. I wanted to just call it all quits right there, but I couldn't do that, and I knew He'd carry me if I kept putting forth the effort.
I started back on my run, working now towards mile 5. I threw the Gatorade bottle away with a few sips left just because I was tired of carrying it. I honestly think I drank too much Gatorade because I began to feel sick. I worried about vomitting up that Gatorade all over the street. Somehow I managed to keep it down. I already get stared at enough when running...the last thing I needed was to draw more attention to myself by way of getting sick.
I made it to the end of the street where I needed to turn around and come back...this is completely out of expat land by the way. I was in China for sure. People sit on the street selling their fruits, doing their laundry, eating their noodles, and staring at me, a busty blonde girl, sweating profusely, trying to run 8 miles. It's quite a site.
At the intersection, I ran across the street and headed back towards home. I knew I'd need to detour towards my other route now to get the mileage I needed. I ran back, turned left to head towards the mountain and park with the Red Lantern (Qi Feng Park for those that know Dongguan), and made it to the corner where our little expat community again begins. This was almost mile 7. I had to stop. I turned off the mileage, walked to a store to grab a water, breathed, stretched, walked back to the corner, and set off on my last mile and a half or so. The "finish line" was nearly in sight now. The seven mile announcement came through my speakers and I almost threw my hands up in celebratory expression. I was so tired. I was so shaky, but I was almost there. I was moving slowly, but I was going to make it.
I ran that last mile and I can't tell you how extremely proud I was of myself. It was like the air was purer all of a sudden, like the temperature had cooled. Actually, I was quite cold and had had lots of chills during that run because I was soaked with sweat, even in my quick dry clothes. It was magical though. When I finished, I felt like I could have gone even further. I had been praying all 8 miles. It had taken me longer than I wanted, but honestly, I couldn't care less about the time. I FINISHED. I RAN 8 MILES.
When I got home, I showered and rested a few minutes after hydrating with another Gatorade and more water. I went for a massage and the girl killed my legs, but boy they needed it. My calves were on fire when her fingers were digging in them, but they felt really great after. I ate a 6 ounce filet for dinner that night and I felt as good as new on Sunday morning...like I could go for a run!
I was talking with my brother this week and he asked what was the elevation here in Dongguan. He was trying to calculate the added difficulty with the pollution and elevation combined. I wasn't sure honestly, so I Googled it and found that it's 10 meters, about 32 feet, above sea level. That's really not that bad. It made me curious about Beijing though and it said most of the city there lies 20-60 meters above sea level. That makes it a little more tricky. My brother said, "If you can run a 1/2 marathon through smog {and other elements}, you could probably run a 1 and 1/2 marathon in the states." Ha. He might be right.
I honestly think I might be crazy. I might die doing this thing in Beijing, but I'm so proud of myself. I let my nerves get the best of me last weekend, and I'm sure the morning of the race on May 16th I'll do the same, but if I can have the confidence that the Lord will be with me the whole time, then whether it takes me 3 hours or 3 days, I'll be happy to finish. Now, I'm prepping myself for 9 miles this weekend. Wish me luck!
First off, I should admit that I don't consider myself a runner. I never really ran in high school or college, and it was only a mile or two at most when I did. At the end of my college years, when I thought I was young and agile, I ran the Cooper River Bridge run, a 10K in Charleston, SC, without training. I did it as a last minute fill in for someone I was supposed to be babysitting for so she could run, but she got sick so I took her place. I paid the price for that decision for days. My stomach had never been in such knots. I remember lying in a ball drinking Gatorade, of which I've never been a fan, and cursing that bridge.
After that, my running was sporadic. When I moved to Ireland, I often ran down the canal from my flat in Ranelagh to Portobello, or up and around St. Stephen's Green, then it was in Italy that I started being more diligent about running. I ran most mornings when I lived in Milan, that is, when it wasn't snowing. I participated in the Stramilano 10K alone that year, and I had a blast. A friend had asked if I wanted to run it, but then she moved home to the states before the race was to take place (I'm now recognizing a pattern of friends who ask me to run, then themsleves back out!!). I actually thought I'd only signed up for the 5K, but I remember finishing the race and looking at my bib, then being so proud of myself. I ran with a bunch of crazy Italians, alone, and finished feeling great. In America, we drink after races. In Italy, I kept that tradition alive and went to the nearest cart, grabbed two beers, and sat down in front of the Duomo observing others. No one else was drinking. I began chatting with a guy and I had him take a picture so I could better hold on to that memory. I love that picture...it's still on my phone; that guy and I became Facebook friends that day come to think of it.
After moving back to the states, I kept running small distances. I participated in the Cooper River Bridge run again, this time prepared, and enjoyed leisurely runs along the Battery when I could. I ran in my neighborhood in Hanahan a couple of times a week. It was never much, 4 miles at the most, when I was running just to run. It felt good though...it was something that allowed me to clear my head.
My chiropractor wasn't and isn't very happy with me, but I do enjoy running now and again. She's told me many times to quit. She's worried about my back and my knees, but I've been a bad patient and I've kept on. I try to be cognizant of my "issues" when I'm running though. I know my back can give me major problems (I have titanium rods down either side of my spine), but I am very conscious of how I place my feet to land, how I align my spine and hips.
I don't think I'm a runner and I don't plan to run marathons the rest of my life, but I'm living in China, and in less than a month there's this awesome race that takes place on the Great Wall, so I am doing it. I am terrified though.
Since November, I've been running more regularly and trying to keep up with a schedule for preparing for a half marathon. Actually, for the past several months, I've been ahead of my schedule. I only just recently had to start making gains...going a greater distance. Last Saturday, I ran my first 8 miles ever. I knew I had to do it, and apparently I was dreading it.
I woke up Saturday morning, and like most mornings, didn't open my eyes. I knew if I did I'd be awake, and I really wanted a little more sleep. A few hours later, by the time I did open my eyes, I felt sure that it must be at least 12 or 1. I knew I had slept the whole morning. I had been dreading getting up for the run, so that was ok with me. I looked at my phone to check the time; it was 8 am. Geez.
I got up and read a few blogs looking for what to eat before a long run. I settled on some oatmeal because what most of the blogs said was to not introduce anything new. I hate bananas, I didn't have a lot of other options here, so I made my oatmeal with some peanut butter and a few chocolate chips...hey, I was about to burn major calories...don't judge.
I ate breakfast and tried to drink several glasses of water. I needed to wait half an hour to run after eating, or so I'd read, so I went on the Great Wall Marathon website and re-read the info on the race...huge mistake. I got so nervous that I started to have an anxiety attack. I did a devotional and then tried to meditate to calm myself down. I couldn't clear my mind though. I was freaking out...honestly. Shaking almost...so scared. I knew I had to do this though; I had signed up. I'm not one to give up on myself, and if I set my mind to something, then I at least want to try.
Once I mustered up the courage, I got dressed, put some money and a granola bar in a ziplock bag, stuffed that bag between my breasts (when it comes to running, this is the only benefit of being slightly larger in the chest), and set out. I turned on my Sirius Radio and Map My Run, did a few last stretches, and went on my way.
I had decided I'd need to refuel to make the full 8 miles. I've never stopped, not even in the 10K races I've done. I always push through, but for this, I figured I needed to have a boost of energy. I have noticed that my energy has been depleted a lot during my 6 mile runs lately, so I didn't want that to happen to me for this 8 mile. I had mapped out in my head how I could run just under three miles, stop at a convenience store by my house, grab a Gatorade, and then keep moving. This I did. It's actually a benefit of running in a big city like Dongguan. I knew if I had some money with me, I could easily stop to grab a drink along the way. I'm pretty aware of my milage marks so I knew I'd pass several of these little stores even if I hadn't planned it out.
The first few miles were a little harder than they normally are. I think it was my nerves still. My feet just didn't want to pick up off the ground. It could also be the fact that last Saturday was very humid and highly polluted. Training for a marathon, or even a half for that matter, in China, is probably a little more difficult than training in other cleaner air cities. Despite these difficulties though, I made it to the convenience store and got a Gatorade. I drank a few sips and then carried the bottle with me so I could drink a little more at my next stop, if I needed. I also couldn't stand the thought of wasting a whole bottle for just a few sips...I think I'm my mother's daughter.
I ran only one more mile and had to stop. I was dying. I was dizzy. I tried walking a little ways (timer off and not adding this to my mileage), but I was feeling quite strange...I'll still blame that on nerves. I drank more Gatorade and then after a little rest (I even let myself sit down a few minutes), I got back up. You see, I'd been praying the whole time...the whole first 4 miles, I prayed. I asked God to give me the energy...to protect my back, to strengthen my knees. I wanted to give up. I wanted to just call it all quits right there, but I couldn't do that, and I knew He'd carry me if I kept putting forth the effort.
I started back on my run, working now towards mile 5. I threw the Gatorade bottle away with a few sips left just because I was tired of carrying it. I honestly think I drank too much Gatorade because I began to feel sick. I worried about vomitting up that Gatorade all over the street. Somehow I managed to keep it down. I already get stared at enough when running...the last thing I needed was to draw more attention to myself by way of getting sick.
I made it to the end of the street where I needed to turn around and come back...this is completely out of expat land by the way. I was in China for sure. People sit on the street selling their fruits, doing their laundry, eating their noodles, and staring at me, a busty blonde girl, sweating profusely, trying to run 8 miles. It's quite a site.
At the intersection, I ran across the street and headed back towards home. I knew I'd need to detour towards my other route now to get the mileage I needed. I ran back, turned left to head towards the mountain and park with the Red Lantern (Qi Feng Park for those that know Dongguan), and made it to the corner where our little expat community again begins. This was almost mile 7. I had to stop. I turned off the mileage, walked to a store to grab a water, breathed, stretched, walked back to the corner, and set off on my last mile and a half or so. The "finish line" was nearly in sight now. The seven mile announcement came through my speakers and I almost threw my hands up in celebratory expression. I was so tired. I was so shaky, but I was almost there. I was moving slowly, but I was going to make it.
I ran that last mile and I can't tell you how extremely proud I was of myself. It was like the air was purer all of a sudden, like the temperature had cooled. Actually, I was quite cold and had had lots of chills during that run because I was soaked with sweat, even in my quick dry clothes. It was magical though. When I finished, I felt like I could have gone even further. I had been praying all 8 miles. It had taken me longer than I wanted, but honestly, I couldn't care less about the time. I FINISHED. I RAN 8 MILES.
When I got home, I showered and rested a few minutes after hydrating with another Gatorade and more water. I went for a massage and the girl killed my legs, but boy they needed it. My calves were on fire when her fingers were digging in them, but they felt really great after. I ate a 6 ounce filet for dinner that night and I felt as good as new on Sunday morning...like I could go for a run!
I was talking with my brother this week and he asked what was the elevation here in Dongguan. He was trying to calculate the added difficulty with the pollution and elevation combined. I wasn't sure honestly, so I Googled it and found that it's 10 meters, about 32 feet, above sea level. That's really not that bad. It made me curious about Beijing though and it said most of the city there lies 20-60 meters above sea level. That makes it a little more tricky. My brother said, "If you can run a 1/2 marathon through smog {and other elements}, you could probably run a 1 and 1/2 marathon in the states." Ha. He might be right.
I honestly think I might be crazy. I might die doing this thing in Beijing, but I'm so proud of myself. I let my nerves get the best of me last weekend, and I'm sure the morning of the race on May 16th I'll do the same, but if I can have the confidence that the Lord will be with me the whole time, then whether it takes me 3 hours or 3 days, I'll be happy to finish. Now, I'm prepping myself for 9 miles this weekend. Wish me luck!
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Blessings Come in Small Packages
It's been almost a week since I returned to China after flying home to Charleston for the birth of my first niece. I had tried for months to keep my trip home a secret; I had attempted to convince my sister's husband and doctor as well as my mother to encourage my sister to schedule her c-section on April 6th, the first Monday of my spring break. My sister sort of had her mind set on April 1st, but I prayed and prayed about it and low and behold, the Lord arranged things perfectly. My sister's doctor (who is also my own) had her own children's spring break the week of April 1st, so the surgery was scheduled on the 6th after all.
I did well to keep the secret of my return for several months, but on my sister's birthday in February, I couldn't hold it in any more (I'm terrible at keeping surprises a secret when it comes to me surprising someone else). I called the restaurant where I knew she was having dinner and just missed her...rats. I called her husband's phone and it was turned off, really?! I called her phone and told her the good news of my flight home and she cried. It wasn't the way I wanted to reveal the secret, but it was a good reaction.
I had a two week visit in the middle of February where my sister's friends and I threw her a baby shower. It was so nice to be able to do that for my sister and to be there with her, even if for only a short time, before the baby came.
I flew home again on April 4th, after a four hour delay in Guangzhou and the fear I'd not make it home for Easter Sunday at all. I arrived late on Saturday night and was able to get to church with my family on Sunday morning. That was the first of many blessings that week.
On Monday morning, I got up and went for a run around the old neighborhood (my sister now lives in the house I lived in for the ten years I spent in Charleston after college). My sister and her husband got themselves ready and went to the hospital for pre-op. My mother and I followed behind a short time later and met my sister's in-laws in the entrance to the hospital. We all got our stickers (the hospital is serious about their security) and we headed upstairs to the waiting room.
In true Hannah fashion, I remarked on the dullness of the waiting room at East Cooper and how poorly it had been designed architecturally. The room faced the bank of elevators and for hours we listened to the swoosh of the up and down movement. I'm the daughter of a contractor...sorry, it's in my blood to notice things like that.
My mother was beside herself with anticipation as were the parents of my sister's husband. I was eager, but I knew it'd take some time to hear from anyone. I had texted Brian, my brother-in-law, and he did send word finally that the baby was born, but not much else. I got one or two pictures, but we didn't know how Mommy or Baby were doing. Finally, I saw the doctor come out (remember she's my doctor too) and I asked how things were. She came over and told us all that the surgery had gone really well and that the baby was beautiful. Everyone was healthy and it'd just be a little while before T'Lene, my sister, would be out of recovery.
Brian finally sent a few more pictures for us and then he himself came out to tell us the details. Everyone was overjoyed, and after a few more hours, my mother, brother (who arrived just in time for delivery) and I went back to see my sister. After they heard my sister and the baby were ok, the in-laws had all gone to get lunch. My mom refused to leave! Mom, Edgar (my brother) and I chatted with T'Lene, and then shortly after, the baby was brought in.
Creighton T'Lene Brown was a beautiful little girl, 7 lbs 2 oz and 19.5 inches long, born Monday, April 6th at 12:57 pm. We were over the moon. We each took our turns holding #SweetbabyCreighton and after several hours at the hospital, I left to go to my sister's house to inform the big sisters, aka the dogs. I took one of Creighton's blankets from the hospital to let the dogs get a good sniff before she was brought home later that week.
For the next 3 days, I stayed at my sister's house with the labs and went to the hospital daily to visit with my sister and niece. I snuggled with her as much as possible, and when my sister's father-in-law jokingly asked if I wanted my "ten minutes" with her, I replied, "Huh, you think I'll only get ten minutes? I go back to China in a few days...you'll have to fight me to get her back!" Of course I was joking too, but I did want every second I could possibly get with her, tiny little bundle of joy that she was.
On Thursday, April 9th, my sister and her husband brought Creighton home. There were a few visitors (family members) that came by that first afternoon, but then T'Lene and Brian tried to settle into their new life as parents and being home with Baby. I was staying that night too as my flight would be Friday morning.
So sad to leave, but so grateful to have been home for such a special occasion, I packed my things and my mom drove me to the airport on Friday morning. She and I said our goodbyes, hugging, and I headed inside as she drove away. I went to the kiosk to check in and got the message "No itinerary found" twice. I walked up to the desk and had the flight attendant search for me and wouldn't you know it, my itinerary had been cancelled! The trouble I had in China on my flight over caused United airlines (with whom I may never fly again) to cancel the return portion of my flight.
I laughed hysterically, honestly, and told the woman at the desk that I was very upset that I had no flight when obviously I had booked a return, and explained that my boss would have a conniption fit if I weren't back to work on time, but that my sister had just had her first child and clearly being "stuck" in Charleston with the beautiful weather and my sister's sweet baby wasn't the worst fate I could receive. I said I'd never been so happy to have cancelled flights in my life!
She wasn't able to get me a flight out until Monday morning, which meant I'd get an extra weekend at home with family. I was ecstatic, but also quite worried about my boss's reaction. I went over to Mom's and made several phone calls to United and I finally found a flight out on Sunday, which meant I'd still get the weekend but I'd only miss one day of work. That was better for me, although I still felt guilty.
I went back over to my sister's house and on Saturday, I spent the majority of the morning, 4 hours to be exact, snuggling with Creighton on the couch while my sister rested and her husband went to his son's soccer game (he has two boys from a previous marriage). That time was priceless.
Sunday morning rolled around and I got up early to catch my flight back to China. Mom again drove me and I headed, reluctantly, into the airport. Upon arrival this time I got the same message from the kiosk, "No itinerary found," but the guy at the desk was able to locate my information in the system. I got in line for the security check, crying, and headed on through to the gate. I sat there before boarding, trying to calm myself down, but checking messages from my brother-in-law saying how much I was missed already, and then messaging my sister and letting her know I was balling my eyes out, didn't really help the situation. She said she too was very upset over my departure.
Finally I calmed down a little, but as soon as I got to the airport in Chicago for my connection, I started crying again. I saw Bill Murray depart the plane from Charleston (he was sitting two rows in front of me) and I honestly wanted to go share my sob story with him, but knew that would make me out to look like a crazy person, so instead, I went to the United desk.
The lady at the desk was so very empathetic, she even invited me behind the desk to look at options for my flight, but she was unfortunately not able to do anything. I really wanted an upgrade, and feel that I absolutely deserved one, but not a single person throughout the course of the trip was able to help me.
I got on the flight, finally, for Beijing and headed way back to my seat, 40 something A, astonished by the condition of the aircraft. First of all, it was a two story plane. I've never in my life experienced that. Second of all, there were no television screens in the backs of seats, there were only the "community" screens located along the ceiling of the plane. I boarded quickly and found a flight attendant to whom I poured my heart out. I summarized my dilemma and the fact that I was heading back to China with an extremely heavy heart and asked if he would help me move from my window seat, which I normally prefer, to an aisle seat because I was honestly so emotional I made myself sick. He was very helpful in finding me an aisle seat, albeit further back in the plane, so I moved to a place I felt I would have an easy escape route to the bathroom should I feel worse.
I took a muscle relaxer (I have those babies for my back and could count on one hand how many I've taken in the last two years, but was happy to have them on Sunday) and I passed out. The flight attendant who helped move me informed another attendant about my "condition" and they looked out for me. I woke for a meal and for hydrating, but otherwise, I slept that whole flight.
Arriving back in China wasn't as difficult as I thought it might be. I was exhausted, even after all that "rest" on the plane, so getting back to my apartment that Monday night was a huge success for me, and I was able to go right to bed.
I had to get up at 5 am the next morning and head right to work. The week went on as it normally would, but with little time for me to think. I checked in with family several times via iMessage and called my mom once, but didn't really get a chance to process anything.
Last night, going to bed was a little more difficult. I suppose it's because I finally had time to process the fact that I'm here in China, and that baby girl is at home in Charleston. My heart breaks in knowing that I won't see her in person again for several months. I've always enjoyed traveling, and I do enjoy living abroad, but events such as the birth of a child, the wedding of a friend, the death of loved one, cause many of us who live overseas, or just away from our family in general, to really consider our options. My heart is and always will be in Charleston. There are bits of it scattered in other places around the world, and perhaps one day I'll be able to say a little part of my heart is in China too, but for now though, the blessing that came in that tiny package that was delivered on April 6th is a memory for me, and driving force to help me get home soon.
Much love to #SweetbabyCreighton. Your Aunt Hannah loves you very much!!
I did well to keep the secret of my return for several months, but on my sister's birthday in February, I couldn't hold it in any more (I'm terrible at keeping surprises a secret when it comes to me surprising someone else). I called the restaurant where I knew she was having dinner and just missed her...rats. I called her husband's phone and it was turned off, really?! I called her phone and told her the good news of my flight home and she cried. It wasn't the way I wanted to reveal the secret, but it was a good reaction.
I had a two week visit in the middle of February where my sister's friends and I threw her a baby shower. It was so nice to be able to do that for my sister and to be there with her, even if for only a short time, before the baby came.
I flew home again on April 4th, after a four hour delay in Guangzhou and the fear I'd not make it home for Easter Sunday at all. I arrived late on Saturday night and was able to get to church with my family on Sunday morning. That was the first of many blessings that week.
On Monday morning, I got up and went for a run around the old neighborhood (my sister now lives in the house I lived in for the ten years I spent in Charleston after college). My sister and her husband got themselves ready and went to the hospital for pre-op. My mother and I followed behind a short time later and met my sister's in-laws in the entrance to the hospital. We all got our stickers (the hospital is serious about their security) and we headed upstairs to the waiting room.
In true Hannah fashion, I remarked on the dullness of the waiting room at East Cooper and how poorly it had been designed architecturally. The room faced the bank of elevators and for hours we listened to the swoosh of the up and down movement. I'm the daughter of a contractor...sorry, it's in my blood to notice things like that.
My mother was beside herself with anticipation as were the parents of my sister's husband. I was eager, but I knew it'd take some time to hear from anyone. I had texted Brian, my brother-in-law, and he did send word finally that the baby was born, but not much else. I got one or two pictures, but we didn't know how Mommy or Baby were doing. Finally, I saw the doctor come out (remember she's my doctor too) and I asked how things were. She came over and told us all that the surgery had gone really well and that the baby was beautiful. Everyone was healthy and it'd just be a little while before T'Lene, my sister, would be out of recovery.
Brian finally sent a few more pictures for us and then he himself came out to tell us the details. Everyone was overjoyed, and after a few more hours, my mother, brother (who arrived just in time for delivery) and I went back to see my sister. After they heard my sister and the baby were ok, the in-laws had all gone to get lunch. My mom refused to leave! Mom, Edgar (my brother) and I chatted with T'Lene, and then shortly after, the baby was brought in.
Creighton T'Lene Brown was a beautiful little girl, 7 lbs 2 oz and 19.5 inches long, born Monday, April 6th at 12:57 pm. We were over the moon. We each took our turns holding #SweetbabyCreighton and after several hours at the hospital, I left to go to my sister's house to inform the big sisters, aka the dogs. I took one of Creighton's blankets from the hospital to let the dogs get a good sniff before she was brought home later that week.
For the next 3 days, I stayed at my sister's house with the labs and went to the hospital daily to visit with my sister and niece. I snuggled with her as much as possible, and when my sister's father-in-law jokingly asked if I wanted my "ten minutes" with her, I replied, "Huh, you think I'll only get ten minutes? I go back to China in a few days...you'll have to fight me to get her back!" Of course I was joking too, but I did want every second I could possibly get with her, tiny little bundle of joy that she was.
On Thursday, April 9th, my sister and her husband brought Creighton home. There were a few visitors (family members) that came by that first afternoon, but then T'Lene and Brian tried to settle into their new life as parents and being home with Baby. I was staying that night too as my flight would be Friday morning.
So sad to leave, but so grateful to have been home for such a special occasion, I packed my things and my mom drove me to the airport on Friday morning. She and I said our goodbyes, hugging, and I headed inside as she drove away. I went to the kiosk to check in and got the message "No itinerary found" twice. I walked up to the desk and had the flight attendant search for me and wouldn't you know it, my itinerary had been cancelled! The trouble I had in China on my flight over caused United airlines (with whom I may never fly again) to cancel the return portion of my flight.
I laughed hysterically, honestly, and told the woman at the desk that I was very upset that I had no flight when obviously I had booked a return, and explained that my boss would have a conniption fit if I weren't back to work on time, but that my sister had just had her first child and clearly being "stuck" in Charleston with the beautiful weather and my sister's sweet baby wasn't the worst fate I could receive. I said I'd never been so happy to have cancelled flights in my life!
She wasn't able to get me a flight out until Monday morning, which meant I'd get an extra weekend at home with family. I was ecstatic, but also quite worried about my boss's reaction. I went over to Mom's and made several phone calls to United and I finally found a flight out on Sunday, which meant I'd still get the weekend but I'd only miss one day of work. That was better for me, although I still felt guilty.
I went back over to my sister's house and on Saturday, I spent the majority of the morning, 4 hours to be exact, snuggling with Creighton on the couch while my sister rested and her husband went to his son's soccer game (he has two boys from a previous marriage). That time was priceless.
Sunday morning rolled around and I got up early to catch my flight back to China. Mom again drove me and I headed, reluctantly, into the airport. Upon arrival this time I got the same message from the kiosk, "No itinerary found," but the guy at the desk was able to locate my information in the system. I got in line for the security check, crying, and headed on through to the gate. I sat there before boarding, trying to calm myself down, but checking messages from my brother-in-law saying how much I was missed already, and then messaging my sister and letting her know I was balling my eyes out, didn't really help the situation. She said she too was very upset over my departure.
Finally I calmed down a little, but as soon as I got to the airport in Chicago for my connection, I started crying again. I saw Bill Murray depart the plane from Charleston (he was sitting two rows in front of me) and I honestly wanted to go share my sob story with him, but knew that would make me out to look like a crazy person, so instead, I went to the United desk.
The lady at the desk was so very empathetic, she even invited me behind the desk to look at options for my flight, but she was unfortunately not able to do anything. I really wanted an upgrade, and feel that I absolutely deserved one, but not a single person throughout the course of the trip was able to help me.
I got on the flight, finally, for Beijing and headed way back to my seat, 40 something A, astonished by the condition of the aircraft. First of all, it was a two story plane. I've never in my life experienced that. Second of all, there were no television screens in the backs of seats, there were only the "community" screens located along the ceiling of the plane. I boarded quickly and found a flight attendant to whom I poured my heart out. I summarized my dilemma and the fact that I was heading back to China with an extremely heavy heart and asked if he would help me move from my window seat, which I normally prefer, to an aisle seat because I was honestly so emotional I made myself sick. He was very helpful in finding me an aisle seat, albeit further back in the plane, so I moved to a place I felt I would have an easy escape route to the bathroom should I feel worse.
I took a muscle relaxer (I have those babies for my back and could count on one hand how many I've taken in the last two years, but was happy to have them on Sunday) and I passed out. The flight attendant who helped move me informed another attendant about my "condition" and they looked out for me. I woke for a meal and for hydrating, but otherwise, I slept that whole flight.
Arriving back in China wasn't as difficult as I thought it might be. I was exhausted, even after all that "rest" on the plane, so getting back to my apartment that Monday night was a huge success for me, and I was able to go right to bed.
I had to get up at 5 am the next morning and head right to work. The week went on as it normally would, but with little time for me to think. I checked in with family several times via iMessage and called my mom once, but didn't really get a chance to process anything.
Last night, going to bed was a little more difficult. I suppose it's because I finally had time to process the fact that I'm here in China, and that baby girl is at home in Charleston. My heart breaks in knowing that I won't see her in person again for several months. I've always enjoyed traveling, and I do enjoy living abroad, but events such as the birth of a child, the wedding of a friend, the death of loved one, cause many of us who live overseas, or just away from our family in general, to really consider our options. My heart is and always will be in Charleston. There are bits of it scattered in other places around the world, and perhaps one day I'll be able to say a little part of my heart is in China too, but for now though, the blessing that came in that tiny package that was delivered on April 6th is a memory for me, and driving force to help me get home soon.
Much love to #SweetbabyCreighton. Your Aunt Hannah loves you very much!!
Friday, April 3, 2015
A Family Affair
For years, decades probably (and wow that makes me feel old), I have been curious about my ancestry. One of my aunts on my mother's side had done a lot of genealogy tracing my maternal line, but there has always been some debate over whether or not things were accurate. My father was adopted, which I didn't find out until I was 16 years old, and so I've never really known too much about his biological family.
At the age of 16, when I originally heard of my dad's adoption, I took it the way I expect most typical teenagers would. I rebelled. I was upset. My grandmother who I'd known and loved and spent much of my childhood with suddenly wasn't my grandmother anymore. I felt betrayed. It hurt, for years, but unfortunately, I didn't get over the shock of it until after my grandmother passed away. That's a regret I have even today. She was and always will be my grandmother, so Nanny, I'm really sorry I treated you so badly after the truth came out. I love and respect you to this day and I'm sorry for ever treating you poorly.
The story of my dad is this. He was the youngest biological son of Ida Martha Breland and Henry Blake Crosby. He had four older biological brothers and sisters. When Daddy was born on June 25, 1940, his mother died from complications in childbirth. His father died about two weeks after in what I've heard was a boating accident, but may have just been an accidental drowning. When the two parents died, the children were divided mostly among family, but my daddy, being the youngest, was separated from the rest and adopted by Mary Augustus Hill and Edgar Moore Salters. These two I came to know as my grandparents. We haven't been able to discover the root of the story yet, but most believe that Mary or Edgar were of some relation to the Crosby's.
Daddy knew of his adoption most of his life. It still baffles me as to why it was kept a secret from the grandchildren. Why I was 16 before I found out, I'll never know. That's besides the point now, however. I'm happy to know of the relationships that Daddy had with his biological siblings. I was even able to meet everyone at a reunion years ago. I'm still in contact with some of my cousins and aunts from Daddy's biological family. It's they who have given me some great insight into my own past.
Just before Christmas last year, I saw that Ancestry.com was running a special on their DNA testing. I had previously done some work on Ancestry, and although my account wasn't active, much of my research and family trees that I had started a few years back had been saved on the site. I ordered the DNA kit, reactivated my account, and patiently waited until I could go home for the Chinese New Year.
As soon as I could get my hands on the kit, which I had had delivered to my sister's house, I sat down and took the test. I had to salivate considerably into a tube and then mail off the sample. I read that it would take 6-8 weeks to get my results. In the meantime, I didn't bother to do much with my family tree.
Two weeks ago, just as I was heading out the door for a weekend trip to Hong Kong, I received an email with a link to my DNA results. I could hardly stand it. I sat at the kitchen table, crying, before I even read anything. My first glance at the results was one that left me in awe, really. I received a breakdown in the form of a pie chart which showed my ethnicity. Now, for a moment I must stop and explain something. I knew I had a lot of German on my mother's side. I suspected there was some Scottish and assumed English too. I believed I had some French and I hoped that I had some Irish. I have always felt extremely connected to Ireland. I only lived there six months, but I promise you that place is about as close to home as it comes.
So back to the ethnicity results...when I saw the estimate, it showed that I was 57% from Western Europe, 26% from Ireland (WHOOHOO) and 5% from Great Britain. The rest was too little to measure really...less than 1% Asian, less than 1% Northern African, etc. I could not believe it. I sat at the computer with tears streaming down my face. It wasn't just the Irish thing, although that was a huge part of it honestly. It was that I finally was getting somewhere with knowing who I am.
Because of the DNA test, I was instantly matched with others on the Ancestry site who had similar DNA. I sent a few emails reaching out to people with whom I was connected and very quickly I got a response from a gentleman (a long lost cousin) named Clarence. Clarence and I instantly became email buddies. He sent me so much information to read over and helped me correct my Crosby family tree. I am by no means finished as I have so much to weed through and as any "genealogy freak" will tell you, I'm addicted to digging deeper. I spent that first weekend (after returning from Hong Kong) glued to my computer. One thing leads to another, then there's double and triple checking, then you go back to the beginning and follow another leaf (Ancestry's tool for hints). I literally could sit on the website for hours doing this, but unfortunately it's been an extremely busy week at work and I haven't had any time in the last few days.
I thought I'd write this blog entry though for a few reasons. A) I really love ancestry and I have discovered so much interesting information that I absolutely have to share it B) I've posted pictures on Instagram and Facebook but I feel I now have to give the back story and C) My dear friend Katy said she was eager to read a blog post about it so here it is, some of it.
The knowledge I've gained and the history I've uncovered is outstanding, in my opinion. On my Dad's biological side, I traced the Breland line back to the late 1700's. That would be my 3rd great grandmother and grandfather. I traced this great grandmother's family back (Kearse) to her grandfather in 1720, Germany. I followed the Crosby line back to Henry E Crosby and wife Mary E Black (my second great grandfather and grandmother) in the 1800's, then continued on with her family as far back as the 1600's in the UK.
I discovered that the Black family came to South Carolina just before the time of the American Revolution. One of the neatest things I read came from an excerpt that Clarence sent me.
"According to family tradition, the Black family of Colleton County is of Scottish descent, being originally a part of Clan Alpine, later of Clan Lamont and Clan MacLean-MacGregor. The first Robert Black came to South Carolina-and America-about the time of the Revolutionary War along with two brothers whose names are unknown. He landed at Georgetown and worked on a plantation to pay for his ship's passage, as did many others at that time. For two days he worked in the field and each day refused to eat the bowl of mush served him along with the other laborers. The lady of the house, seeing that he evidently was a gentleman of refinement, on the third day had his food served on a tray with linen."
If you know me at all, that linen point is absolutely hilarious. I hate paper napkins! Ha.
As previously mentioned, any information discovered leads to other information, so I have been digging, reading, and researching more and more each little bit I get. I looked up the clans to see what I could find about them, and read a little about the Lamonts that put the pep in my step. Apparently, the Lamont clan descended from an Irish prince. Hmmm...royalty in this blood?! Not only this, but we also fought against Robert the Bruce! Wise decision, probably not, but so cool!!
So as you can see, I'm really into this ancestry thing right now. I have pictures, marriage certificates, newspaper articles and more to document my family's past. Can I say it's all 100% accurate, no. Can I say I am absolutely loving what I'm finding and connecting with my past, yes.
As I head back to the states tomorrow, I prepare for my very first niece to be born (my very first anything actually as this is my sister's first born child). One day, I'll be able to tell her stories of my discoveries. Until then, I've got more digging to do...the fun has only just begun!
At the age of 16, when I originally heard of my dad's adoption, I took it the way I expect most typical teenagers would. I rebelled. I was upset. My grandmother who I'd known and loved and spent much of my childhood with suddenly wasn't my grandmother anymore. I felt betrayed. It hurt, for years, but unfortunately, I didn't get over the shock of it until after my grandmother passed away. That's a regret I have even today. She was and always will be my grandmother, so Nanny, I'm really sorry I treated you so badly after the truth came out. I love and respect you to this day and I'm sorry for ever treating you poorly.
The story of my dad is this. He was the youngest biological son of Ida Martha Breland and Henry Blake Crosby. He had four older biological brothers and sisters. When Daddy was born on June 25, 1940, his mother died from complications in childbirth. His father died about two weeks after in what I've heard was a boating accident, but may have just been an accidental drowning. When the two parents died, the children were divided mostly among family, but my daddy, being the youngest, was separated from the rest and adopted by Mary Augustus Hill and Edgar Moore Salters. These two I came to know as my grandparents. We haven't been able to discover the root of the story yet, but most believe that Mary or Edgar were of some relation to the Crosby's.
Daddy knew of his adoption most of his life. It still baffles me as to why it was kept a secret from the grandchildren. Why I was 16 before I found out, I'll never know. That's besides the point now, however. I'm happy to know of the relationships that Daddy had with his biological siblings. I was even able to meet everyone at a reunion years ago. I'm still in contact with some of my cousins and aunts from Daddy's biological family. It's they who have given me some great insight into my own past.
Just before Christmas last year, I saw that Ancestry.com was running a special on their DNA testing. I had previously done some work on Ancestry, and although my account wasn't active, much of my research and family trees that I had started a few years back had been saved on the site. I ordered the DNA kit, reactivated my account, and patiently waited until I could go home for the Chinese New Year.
As soon as I could get my hands on the kit, which I had had delivered to my sister's house, I sat down and took the test. I had to salivate considerably into a tube and then mail off the sample. I read that it would take 6-8 weeks to get my results. In the meantime, I didn't bother to do much with my family tree.
Two weeks ago, just as I was heading out the door for a weekend trip to Hong Kong, I received an email with a link to my DNA results. I could hardly stand it. I sat at the kitchen table, crying, before I even read anything. My first glance at the results was one that left me in awe, really. I received a breakdown in the form of a pie chart which showed my ethnicity. Now, for a moment I must stop and explain something. I knew I had a lot of German on my mother's side. I suspected there was some Scottish and assumed English too. I believed I had some French and I hoped that I had some Irish. I have always felt extremely connected to Ireland. I only lived there six months, but I promise you that place is about as close to home as it comes.
So back to the ethnicity results...when I saw the estimate, it showed that I was 57% from Western Europe, 26% from Ireland (WHOOHOO) and 5% from Great Britain. The rest was too little to measure really...less than 1% Asian, less than 1% Northern African, etc. I could not believe it. I sat at the computer with tears streaming down my face. It wasn't just the Irish thing, although that was a huge part of it honestly. It was that I finally was getting somewhere with knowing who I am.
Because of the DNA test, I was instantly matched with others on the Ancestry site who had similar DNA. I sent a few emails reaching out to people with whom I was connected and very quickly I got a response from a gentleman (a long lost cousin) named Clarence. Clarence and I instantly became email buddies. He sent me so much information to read over and helped me correct my Crosby family tree. I am by no means finished as I have so much to weed through and as any "genealogy freak" will tell you, I'm addicted to digging deeper. I spent that first weekend (after returning from Hong Kong) glued to my computer. One thing leads to another, then there's double and triple checking, then you go back to the beginning and follow another leaf (Ancestry's tool for hints). I literally could sit on the website for hours doing this, but unfortunately it's been an extremely busy week at work and I haven't had any time in the last few days.
I thought I'd write this blog entry though for a few reasons. A) I really love ancestry and I have discovered so much interesting information that I absolutely have to share it B) I've posted pictures on Instagram and Facebook but I feel I now have to give the back story and C) My dear friend Katy said she was eager to read a blog post about it so here it is, some of it.
The knowledge I've gained and the history I've uncovered is outstanding, in my opinion. On my Dad's biological side, I traced the Breland line back to the late 1700's. That would be my 3rd great grandmother and grandfather. I traced this great grandmother's family back (Kearse) to her grandfather in 1720, Germany. I followed the Crosby line back to Henry E Crosby and wife Mary E Black (my second great grandfather and grandmother) in the 1800's, then continued on with her family as far back as the 1600's in the UK.
I discovered that the Black family came to South Carolina just before the time of the American Revolution. One of the neatest things I read came from an excerpt that Clarence sent me.
"According to family tradition, the Black family of Colleton County is of Scottish descent, being originally a part of Clan Alpine, later of Clan Lamont and Clan MacLean-MacGregor. The first Robert Black came to South Carolina-and America-about the time of the Revolutionary War along with two brothers whose names are unknown. He landed at Georgetown and worked on a plantation to pay for his ship's passage, as did many others at that time. For two days he worked in the field and each day refused to eat the bowl of mush served him along with the other laborers. The lady of the house, seeing that he evidently was a gentleman of refinement, on the third day had his food served on a tray with linen."
If you know me at all, that linen point is absolutely hilarious. I hate paper napkins! Ha.
As previously mentioned, any information discovered leads to other information, so I have been digging, reading, and researching more and more each little bit I get. I looked up the clans to see what I could find about them, and read a little about the Lamonts that put the pep in my step. Apparently, the Lamont clan descended from an Irish prince. Hmmm...royalty in this blood?! Not only this, but we also fought against Robert the Bruce! Wise decision, probably not, but so cool!!
So as you can see, I'm really into this ancestry thing right now. I have pictures, marriage certificates, newspaper articles and more to document my family's past. Can I say it's all 100% accurate, no. Can I say I am absolutely loving what I'm finding and connecting with my past, yes.
As I head back to the states tomorrow, I prepare for my very first niece to be born (my very first anything actually as this is my sister's first born child). One day, I'll be able to tell her stories of my discoveries. Until then, I've got more digging to do...the fun has only just begun!
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