Back From Mexico!

I've been back for over two weeks now, but with my grandma passing away a few days after I got back, I flew up to New Jersey to be with family. My finals just finished and I've finally found the time to update my blog and let you all know how the race went.

Picture it...

A plane FULL of passengers completely decked out in Ironman gear. Ironman hats, Ironman jackets, Ironman socks, etc. Honestly, I think there were maybe four or five passengers who weren't race participants. I took a seat in the back of the plane (after nearly missing it due to the tardiness of the first flight) and one person jokingly asked me how many people I thought were sitting on the plane, wearing compression socks. I've never worn them, but if you're familiar with triathlon gear, it's a funny thing to think about... a plane full of people wearing compression socks.

Arriving in Cozumel was awesome! I stepped off the plane into a high 80's, low 90 degree temperature and I knew the next few days were going to be great. That is, after all 120 people on the plane (and their bike boxes) made it through security. I took a taxi to the host hotel and went up to my room, where I stood on the poolside balcony and looked out on the ocean. Perfect.

I put my bike together and began to look around. The island of Cozumel is far from what you probably picture when you think of Mexico and it always has a ton of tourists, but it's great. Exactly what you'd think of when thinking of a small, tropical island. And I got to practice my Spanish!

I also think, being one of the youngest competitors and also traveling alone, a lot of veteran racers took me "under their wing" and invited me on runs, rides and drives on the bike course. I went on a ride with two guys who have been doing triathlons (including Ironman races) since the 1980's!

But I feel like I'm taking too long to get to the good stuff: THE RACE.

My Abuelo and Abuela flew in from Miami to cheer me on and while I knew they were somewhere at the swim start, I didn't see them. I did see 2000 other competitors, mostly in speedsuits, beginning to hop off the dock and into the water for the 2000-person mass swim start. I was nervous, but more excited than anything else. Everything I had spent the last 10 months training for was right in front of me and it was about to start.

The gun went off and I actually started swimming beneath the dock. People were everywhere, arms thrashing trying to make their way out of the crowd. The swim was shaped like a rectangle and I managed to break out to the point where I could swim around the first corner of the rectangle. The turns were the hard parts. (The next morning I woke up with bruises all over my arms because the 200-pound guys on either side of me were determined to get in front and I, judging from how many bruises I had, I must have been in the way.) After that first turn was the longest stretch of the swim. I did what my coach, Dave Williams, told me to do and looked up every time I took a breath. I thought this would waste time, but it actually saved me time/kept me on course.

Somewhere in the middle of that long stretch was the first time I had ever gotten stung by a jellyfish and it hurt. It felt just like someone once told me it might: like someone lays an iron on your skin. Luckily, it was only the back of my leg, but it must have been a prime stinging spot. A few minutes later, I got stung again. Sea lice decided to join the party too, but with those, you don't realize until the next day and see mosquito-like bites on your body. Mine was covered in them. Still, the swim was going MUCH better than I had anticipated. I was keeping a steady pace and the water was far less choppy than it had been in the days before. Even still, my motion sickness loves to creep up on me and for the last side of the rectangular swim I was dry-heaving. Fun. But you know what? Best case scenario, Dave and I were hoping for me to swim a 1 hour, 20 minute time. (I didn't tell him, but I was thinking more along the lines of 1:30. Coming of out of the water, feeling like puking but getting ready for the bike, I glanced at my watch. 1 hour, 8 minutes. THAT got me pumped.

The transition was much longer than shorter distance triathlons, but nobody looked to be in too much of a hurry. We all did the usual gear (helmet, shoes, socks, sunglasses) and then applied sunscreen. I put on what I thought was a good amount and then looked around to see people painted in sunscreen, looking as though they had applied the whole bottle. "Is that really necessary?" I thought. YES, it was. I can confidently say that when, over two weeks later, my back looks like I'm still wearing a triathlon top.

But the bike. That was probably my favorite leg of the entire race. Not because of the actual biking, but largely because of the atmosphere surrounding the race. It literally seemed as though the entire island had taken the day off to come out and watch the race/cheer. It was simply amazing. The bike course was three loops around half of the island and whether we were in the city, in small towns or on back roads next to the ocean, people cheered. They screamed hopeful words and little kids waved. They did this for hours and I loved every minute of it. Even though I was trying to do my best time, I did take the time to wave.

As for the logistics of the bike, the roads were actually VERY well paved and the island was pretty much flat. I managed to average 20-21 miles per hour when riding through the city, but slowed down a lot on the backside of the island. One of the guys from a local triathlon store here in North Carolina was competing in the race and had driven the course the day before. He told me there was about a nine-mile stretch that was incredibly windy. I knew exactly what he was talking about when I hit the wind. It was ridiculously strong, causing many of us to literally grip our bike handlebars to keep from being blown off of our bikes. The wind was so strong, that many people (like myself) who were averaging 20-21 mph dropped down to about 14-15 mph and tried to maintain that. Needless to say, I was glad when I finished the last windy portion of the third loop. Bike time? Dave and I said the best case scenario would be around 6 hours and 40 minutes. My actual time? 6 hours, 25 minutes. "This is GREAT!" I thought. Now the run.

While I was on the bike, my splits were better than I expected and I feared I might have been expending too much energy. Getting off the bike, my legs were surprisingly fresh. I almost couldn't believe it and was excited to start the run. The run, I had felt though all my training, would go the best. In fact, with the projected run time I was hoping for/training for, I was looking at possibly finishing the entire race in about 12 hours. Sadly, it didn't work out that way.

I got off the bike and ran for about the first two miles. All of a sudden, it felt like someone punched me in the stomach and left a large stone where thier fist had been. I felt as though I either needed to use the bathroom or vomit, neither of which I seemed able to do. I tried my best to run, but walked the majority of the 26.2 miles. Dave had told me Coke would be my saving grace during the run, but the aid stations had run out of Coke and they didn't get any more Coke until mile 18. By then, it must have been too late because I literally vomited from mile 18 all the way to the finish line. Mosquitos were eating everyone alive, but after what seemed like forever, the finishing chute was in sight. I ran the last half mile just to cross the finish line.

I finished a LONG time after I was hoping to... which is why I'll have to do another Ironman. Just to prove I can do it faster.

And The Tapering Begins!: 3 Weeks Until Ironman Cozumel!

It's coming up so fast.

I can't believe that months of running, biking and swimming are finally culminating into one big event that could either go well or not-so-well. I'm hoping to fall somewhere between "well" and "really good." Hoping.

This weekend I ran one last race, a half marathon in Outer Banks, North Carolina. It's getting chilly, so it's not great beach weather, but the cooler temperatures made for fantastic running weather.

My friend Allison and I drove out to the coast on Saturday, picked up our race packets, stopped at a pirate-themed restaurant for dinner and then got a good night's sleep in a nearby hotel. In all honesty, I really hadn't thought much about the race beforehand. I knew that I hadn't planned to go "all out," but I still wanted to see if I could improve my only other half-marathon time of 1 hour, 45 minutes (at the same half marathon in 2007).

Allison and I started out together at an 8 minute/mile pace (which averages out to an approximate 1:45 half marathon time). However, we ended up splitting up and I decided to try to hold a faster pace. I really wasn't sure exactly of how to pace myself since I hadn't really done a 13-mile run for time during training, so I decided to stay at about a 7:45 min/mile pace. Looking back, I definitely could have gone faster. The run itself was fast and flat and I would have loved to have broken an hour and 40 minutes...which is exactly where I ended up. Still, I shaved five minutes off my previous time, so I was happy.

Today I met with my triathlon coach, David Williams. I honestly wish I could have had more time to fill out his training logs after each individual workout, but I never really had the time to be consistent with it. Nonetheless, he's managed to plan my workouts very well. Today we met at a nearby coffee shop so I could ask him some more "last minute questions": what to bring to Cozumel, packing and unpacking my bike, what to wear on the bike and run, how to pace my nutrition, a run strategy for going through the aid stations, adjusting to the heat (it will be in the 80's in Cozumel), etc. He gave me a LOT of good information and I feel more comfortable in formulating a race strategy.

He also asked me if I had a goal time in mind. Generally and most importantly, my goal is simply to finish. I would like to be under 14 hours, but I really don't have much logic behind that number. Dave guessed that I would finish around 12:30-13 hours. Anywhere between 12 and 14 hours, he said, depending on how well everything goes during the race.

I'm nervous about the race, but undoubtedly excited.

A 22-mile run and 3 Boxes of Cereal Later: 4 Weeks Until Cozumel!

Rather than starting this post about my training, I'm actually going to start it with some thoughts on a New York Times article I read about marathons.

The topic of the article was about whether or not people who aren't considered "purist runners" should be considered marathoners. Basically, fast runners (who refer to themselves as "purist runners") are angry with the demystifying of the marathon by average Joes (of Janes) who enter a race simply to finish, normally hours after these faster runners. The resentment stems from the fact that slower runners who finish, no matter in what time, are given the same t-shirt and medal as those who finish in half the time. "Big deal?" is what you're probably thinking. However, I definitely see both sides to the argument.

Faster runners who ran marathons were once a rare species - the only ones to call themselves "marathoners." This definitely isn't the case anymore. I feel that everyone knows at least one person that has run a marathon and that's precisely what these faster runners have a problem with. To them, it is a sport, but they believe for slower runners, it's simply something to check off the "10 Things I Want To Do Before I Die" list. Several of the purist runners that were interviewed sound as though they would prefer if slower runners didn't participate at all - but really, is it ethical to let your own ego drive you to dissuade people from exercising? If it's one person's goal, why stop them? As a fast runner, honestly, how often are you going to wear that race shirt? Finally, to put it in financial terms, those "slower runners" are the reason that so many marathons exist now. Would an elite group of runners really be able to finance as many marathons as there are today? No. So suck it up, pass them in the first mile and stop complaining. Obesity if enough of a problem as it is.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/23/sports/23marathon.html?_r=1&scp=5&sq=slow%20runners&st=cse

As for me, I should be worried about my own weight issues. This past week, I've managed to eat an entire box of cereal each night for three nights straight. Definitely not healthy, particularly because I promptly pass out afterwards. The thing is though, I am constantly hungry! At times, my hunger is insatiable! But tonight I went out and bought some high-protein foods (non-fat yogurt, protein bars, fish and a protein drink supplement), so hopefully that should help fix the problem. Less carb overloading, more protein to allow me to finally feel full.

Despite my zany eating habits, I am proud of myself for my run on Saturday. I'd never run 22 miles before. Luckily, my friend Eloise ran with me for the first 15 miles; otherwise, the early morning silent run in the rain probably would have bored me to tears. I only had to run the last seven miles on my own, which wasn't bad at all. And I didn't bonk. On my last 20-mile run, I died around mile 18 because I slurped a GU packet too fast earlier in the run and then my stomach refused to take in any more later. When mile 20 came, I felt completely drained and definitely ready to get that GU out of my system. After both runs, I still had to teach my spin class in the afternoon. Neither was difficult, but I felt GREAT after my run this Saturday!

Finally, something important that I realized this morning: as challenging as it can be at times, this training is my release. I can let go and not worry about anything. Just see the puffs of warm air come out of my mouth and into the cold morning air. Just let my feet take me for miles and miles, with just the sound of my running shoes on pavement.

An "Easy" Traning Week and Pig Races at the NC State Fair: 5 Weeks Until Cozumel!

I had an epiphany at the North Carolina State Fair on Saturday as I watched hogs complete a lap around a miniature track for Cheetos. I believe the phrase that popped into my head was something similar to The Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy tells Toto, "I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." Hog racing is a far cry from my tropical South Florida childhood, no doubt about that. But embrace every new experience, right?

Erica and I trekked through the rain to the fair after my 13-mile run through a downpour that morning. Due to a missed run and an unsuccessful swim training the day before, I wasn't starting out on the best foot. By the end of the run, however, I was feeling great. Eloise (my friend/occasional running partner) and I even managed to pick up the pace as we ran uphill for the last two miles! So all in all, a good run. It's funny how, a few months ago, 13 miles would have seemed like a very long run. When I looked at my training schedule last week, my initial thought was, "Great! Only 13 miles. Easy."

However, the food at the fair didn't treat my stomach well at all. I clearly remember, when I went to the fair with friends during my freshman year at UNC, eating fair food didn't bother me at all. I sampled a candy apple, corn, a bloomin' onion, fried oreos, a BBQ sandwich, a corndog, french fries, a funnel cake, etc. This past Saturday, some funnel cake and part of a bloomin' onion left me nauseated and wanting to run to a trash can.

Luckily, I was feeling better the next morning because I had a full day's workout ahead: 100 miles on the bike and then a one-hour run after that. In all honesty, long bikes rides (especially alone) are extremely psychologically challenging. I've managed to test and try new methods of hydration and nutrition, but I am really excited/interested to see what a competitive atmosphere will do for my bike time.

I have five weeks to find out...

(AND Morgan will be in the U.S. in seven weeks!!!)

A Weekend of 20-Mile Runs, 80-Mile Bikes, the Rock Wall and Cuban Coffee: 6 Weeks To Go!

How William Harrison ever managed to qualify for Kona (i.e. the World Championship of triathlons), run Kona and then land his dream job this year - I'll never know.

I'm not even trying to qualify for Kona and I can barely juggle all of my responsibilities this semester: school, radio and TV projects, two part-time jobs (the rock wall and teaching indoor cycling), training and an internship at a local TV station. I noticed that I had Fridays off -for the first time in my college career- and I thought "Perfect! Space for an internship." I clearly make it look like I don't want a social life.

However, I do enjoy most aspects of all of these things: even 20-mile runs, one of which I did on Saturday.

I've been doing 16,17 and 18-mile runs, but for some reason the additional two miles really made a bit of a difference. I managed to finish and I'm not worried about my endurance, but I am worried about my habit of ALWAYS needing to go to the bathroom during these long runs...typically when there are no restrooms to be found. I've gotten better about this over the past few months and I thought my days of using "nature's restroom" were over. But it just so happened that I had run about 10 miles out into a forested area when I realized I needed to use the restroom...desperately. The only building in sight was a gymnastics clinic and it was closed. So I did what I had to do...and trekked into the forest.

Writing this, I feel as though this might come off as inappropriate to some, but if you run long distances, you know EXACTLY what I am talking about. The less glamorous side of being able to run for hours on end.

I did lose it a bit towards the end of the run. In terms of endurance, I was fine, but I hadn't paced myself when eating GU. As a result, I got a stomach ache from slurping one too quickly and then I didn't want to eat another. The bad part of that is that I need to have at least 100 calories (or 1 GU pack) every 45 minutes or so. So I was finishing a three-hour run with a caloric intake of probably 150 calories. The fact that it was 40 degrees (and I'm sure I needed even more calories to allow my body temperature to be maintained) didn't help. But of course, I finished and had about 45 minutes until I had to volunteer and then go to work at Duke.

The Cuban coffee may not have been a wise choice for training, but I'm not worried. It was during the few minutes that I had to hang out with my friend, Erica, before I had to dash off to teach my Saturday spin class.

As far as the bike, I was supposed to do that yesterday, but I was busy filming/editing a VO-SOT for a 5K race and then I went to the North Carolina State Fair to encourage people to use alternative sources of energy. (I was working as a volunteer for NC GreenPower: a 'go-green' state organization.) So the bike happened today and for some reason, it was a little more mentally taxing. Honestly, there are times when I wish I could mentally slip out of my body and let my muscles keep working, which they gladly would. It's a strange thing to describe. I'm tired, but my muscles aren't. They can easily keep going and if I could continue riding while asleep, I probably would.

While I may sound burnt-out, I cannot contain my excitement (and also my nervousness) for Cozumel. SIX WEEKS! I was reading through the race site today and the course description has definitely changed from what it originally was set to be. I'm not thrilled about the 3-lap bike (112 miles) or the 3-lap run (26.2 miles). Essentially, I'm going to pass the transition area/finish line twice before I can actually cross it. I suppose this might be a good thing for families who come out to support competitors, as well as other spectators. Abuelo and Abuela will be able to see me several times before I can actually collapse in front of them at the end. Which makes me wonder... do they know what they're getting into? My grandparents have been to one of my races, but this will last about 10 hours longer and triathletes (such as those that will be racing in Cozumel) are definitely a breed of their own.

Did I mention the great 'swag' for this race? (*Apparently, some people I've met say that they're going just for the cool gear that a new Ironman course will probably include in the goodie bags.)

Food Comas and Long Rides: 7 Weeks Until Cozumel

I feel like a mix of these two would definitely describe what the past few weeks have been like, particularly this last week.

After nutritionally crashing on my only swim for the week (I hadn't eaten enough calories beforehand), I was a little worried about my swim at Pinehurst, the Olympic-distance triathlon which would be my last tri of the season. I wasn't worried in the sense of "Can I do it?" But rather, I was concerned about how strong I was going to come out of the water. I also didn't anticipate only getting five hours of sleep the night before the race, so I'm almost positive that I didn't fully wake up until about halfway through the swim.

The course itself was tough. I remembered it being tough, but I just learned that morning that the bike had been rerouted and included an extra five miles at the end. I should consider myself lucky though because I later heard that many people didn't know at all, even after starting the bike.

Technically, the race was pretty terrible for me. I hadn't slept much, it was only my third time wearing a wetsuit and my watch didn't start when I hit the "Start" button when the horn for the swim sounded. I'm not obsessive about sticking to a certain time, but it's always good to know how long each leg is taking me to do and a general estimate of my pace. BUT the fun didn't stop there. My bike computer sensor was knocked off-kilter and my chain was stuck before I even mounted my bike. After I got the chain undone, I hopped on only to realize the computer issue. I attempted to align it with the other sensor, but to no avail. I had rode in races without knowing the exact distance, but I always had an estimate and I ALWAYS knew my speed. I had no idea how fast I was going or how far I'd gone by the time I asked another competitor about how far we'd gone. Thinking back, perhaps she thought I was being a jerk for asking her how much we had left on the course as I was passing her, but I was very poilite and only asked her because she looked nice enough to answer. Her response? "Why don't you get a bike computer?" Rude, definitely and clearly, I had a bike computer... it just wasn't working.

Luckily, there were mile-markers spray-painted on the road every five miles. It was about this often when I also saw racers changing flat tires. I don't know whether it was all of the burrs from the parking lot field or the poorly paved segments of road, but people were popping tires left and right. And the run? I would honestly say that about half of everyone competing stopped to walk at some point, if not more. Imagine doing a 10K on a golf course. A LARGE golf course. Same thing with the bike. Hills that could be the unknown stepsisters to those in San Francisco. No joke.

http://www.setupevents.com/files/PHFRes1.htm

In the end, I faired much better than I had thought or rather (without a timer or a computer) guessed. It was good to squeeze one more race in. Now just a half-marathon and possibly my first century race before Cozumel.

However, I have been putting in 4-7 hour rides on the bike, either alone or as a part of brick training sessions on the weekend.

And those food comas?

I'm finding that nutrition is probably just as difficult, if not harder than the actual training itself. I have to constantly listen to my body to figure out what nutrients I need more of, less of or maybe if all I have is an upset stomach. I've started taking electrolyte tablets, which I've been told can cause upset stomachs. ...Actually, I was kidding about my own upset stomach, but you get the point.

So I think my body just waved a white flag last night as I ate a ton of peanut M&Ms (which I had decided to buy and save in case I ever needed a super-quick fix) and some bread with olive oil and garlic. Weird combination and terrible nutrition by anyone's standards and I soon realized what a bad decision that all had been...when I was stuffed from the bread and had a nasty sugar headache. And then I woke up this morning feeling like an actualy peanut M&M.

Chewed Up, Spit Out and Rejected... But A Pretty Good Week

I have 8 weeks left until Ironman Cozumel and if you had asked me a few days ago if I was feeling extremely confident, I have no idea what I would have told you.

Every week has been and will be hectic, but I am slowly learning how to use every second of the day more effectively. Still, I had to miss a run (I had only slept for 3 hours the night before and had to return a recorder to one of my classmates at an exact time that wouldn't be feasible to do if I ran) and a swim (I was out with one of the ABC 11 reporters covering the set up of a U2 concert and barely made it back to the station in time to head off to work at the rock wall). Busy, busy, busy.

I also had two interviews this week regarding my post-grad plans: a telephone interview with Teach for America and an in-person interview in front of a nominating committee for the Luce Scholars Program. On Tuesday, I find out if I will be granted a final interview for Teach for America and unfortunately, I already found out that I did not receive one of the nominations for Luce. While I'm disappointed, I think I will be MUCH more disappointed if I don't make it to the final round of interviews for TFA. Luce is an exciting opportunity, but one that might be better suited for me in a few years once I've gotten to have more experience outside the realm of broadcasting and also, when Morgan and I aren't still living on two different continents.

BUT I did say that I would share the good, bad and the ugly in this blog, but I didn't mention this hilarious. I try to always look on the positive side of things and even though Luce didn't work out for me, the interview itself was quite an experience! I went down to the UNC Kenan-Flagler Business School and waited in a room of refreshments and large couches until someone came to escort me to the boardroom where my interview would be held. On the walk there, the man escorting me (also on the nominating committee) informed me that the interview would be taped and there was a camera inside, so not to worry. Upon walking in, I noticed five deans of various schools at UNC sitting across from me at a long boardroom table. They greeted me politely and got straight down to business.

First question: "Where will you be in 10 years?" This is the oldest question in the book. Furthermore, I feel that anyone who thinks they know exactly where they will be and what they will be doing in 10 years is kidding themselves. So of course, I talked about the things I wanted to accomplish in the next 10 years and places that I wanted to go, the type of work I wanted to do, etc. One of the women on the panel looked up and asked me if I didn't know what I wanted to do and implied that I was lacking direction because I couldn't tell her where exactly I thought I would be in 10 years. Haha, I probably should have just lied and pretended I knew exactly where I wanted to be 10 years from now.

Second question: "I see that you have been to South Africa... tell us about AIDS in Africa." Well, isn't that a controversial question and also the world's most general question. AIDS IN AFRICA. While I recognized all that this question encompassed, I felt confident in the responses I gave. But really... "tell us about AIDS in Africa"?

There were a few other questions in between, but this was the kicker and the final question: "Do you consider yourself a feminist and why?" Somehow, I felt as though the topic of reproductive rights (i.e. abortion) was unavoidable and that is how I ended the interview. I also may have inadvertently referred to my dad as a homophobe (he isn't) and I happened to mention how often I was told that people were "praying for my soul" the summer that I worked at Feminist Women's Health Center. None of the above are wise things to mention in an interview, particularly an interview in the South.

But you know, these are growing pains and lessons learned. I definitely found the interview situation, looking back, quite funny, but I am somewhat disappointed, too. The fact that my workouts have been suffering so much because of my school/internship workload hasn't been great either. This weekend's workouts, however, began to make up for some of that.

Yesterday, after two days of missed workouts, I ran 18 miles without a second thought. In fact, I rushed back and then jumped on my bike to go to an interview at UNC's football tailgate. I woke up slightly sore this morning and was happy. Today, I biked 75 miles and then ran for an hour afterward, all at a moderate pace. I worked on my nutrition and hydrated more, which helped a lot. I also had GU packs and tried electrolyte tablets for the first time today. Even after 75 miles on the bike, I managed about an 8-minute mile for about 7 miles, which I was pleased with.

All in all, a pretty good week.

9 Weeks To Go! (Not Such a Good Training Week)

Blogs are interesting in the sense that you are never sure if anyone reads them or not. Occasionally, someone will post a comment and you will know that at the very least, that person reads what you decided to write that day. I would be elated to know that someone took an interest in my travels or training, but for now, I'll have faith that a few people do.

This past week was HARD. Between the radio and TV news stations on campus, my two part-time jobs, regular academic classes, an internship AND training for an Ironman, life can get overwhelming at times. In terms of training, my setback this week was swimming... I didn't make it to the pool once. The pools at UNC are closed until 2010, so I've been bouncing back and forth between Chapel Hill community pools and making the trek over to Duke University to use their pool. I also haven't really been doing the "rest and recovery" bit. I probably averaged about 3-4 hours of sleep per night this week.

But enough of the negativity. Yes, this week was definitely hard and yes, it will continue to be difficult. Nonetheless, I'm keeping strong. My running is gettting better. Thursday I ran an 8-mile tempo run and averaged a 6:45 minute mile. Yesterday, Eloise (my friend/neighbor) and I did an easy/moderate 15-mile run and by the end of it, I felt as if I could have easily run another 15 miles. Today I had brick traning. For those unfamiliar with this term, brick training is when you ride on your bike and then switch immediately to a run. The format of a triathlon is swim, bike, run, so brick training prepares you and your muscles for the transition from the bike to the run. Today I rode 85 miles on the bike and then did a 30 minute recovery run afterwards. After about six or seven GU packs, gatorade and water, I was feeling completely sugar-filled.

A bit awkward, but as a side note: I thought that I was allergic to the new UNC Triathlon Club uniform because last time I did a long ride, I got a rash on my legs that was only where the elastic of the shorts sat. I wore different shorts today and guess what? The same swollen rash. This makes me feel worse, but is anyone familiar with the Dr. Doolittle movie with Eddie Murphy (the first one, I believe)? Eddie Murphy gets called into his office to administer a shot in the buttocks of a woman who knew she was allergic to shellfish, but ate some anyway and had an allergic reaction. Well, if you ever saw the rash that she had... Yup, on my leg.

All in all, today was a solid workout. Swimming will definitely be in the plans, this week!

The Final Countdown: 10 Weeks Until Ironman Cozumel!

I realize that I have commitment issues with my blog: it waits around for me and I leave it sitting here online, waiting. I promise it (and those reading my blog) that I will get better.

For a recap: My time in Cuba did come to an end in May, but not before I hopped on a government bus with my cousin, Maria and the two of us set off to Chaparra, the small rural town in eastern Cuba where my Abuela grew up. After a cramped and FREEZING 12-hour bus ride (I was told to dress warmly and didn't take the comment to heart), Maria and I made it to Chaparra, a town which still uses horse and wagon as its primary means of transportation. Up until then, I had never been able to imagine what Abuela's hometown - the town that I had heard stories about throughout my childhood - looked like. Somehow, being there seemed to satisfy so many of my past questions of identity and my cultural "roots." With government permission, I stayed there for a week with Abuela's younger sister, Tia Eva and her two daughters as well as my two cousins, Evelyn and Elisabeth. The bond that Evelyn and I formed in that week was almost unbelievable. We shared views on politics, culture, friends, love and a general passion for life. We both cried when I had to leave, but now we write every so often and I think about her and life there in Chaparra more often than that.

After coming back from Cuba, I worked as an intern at CNN's headquarters in Atlanta, GA with CNN Productions, CNN's documentary unit. It was a fantastic internship (NOTE: I cannot go into great detail about my work) and I had opportunities to meet many interesting people and do work on several documentaries including Black in America 2, Generation Islam, Michael Jackson: Man in the Mirror and Latino in America, set to air next month. I actually did quite a bit of work on LIA including (but not limited to): transribing tapes, translating interviews (from Spanish to English) and even some script-writing. It was phenomenal.

Fast-forward to the present: I have been training for a full Ironman since February and now I'm in the final homestretch. Keep in mind that I am not looking to qualify for the Kona Hawaii World Championship race or anything remotely that grand, but I am training to run a good race and complete the full 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike and 26.2-mile run. I have 10 weeks before I fly to Cozumel, Mexico, where the race is going to be held. It will be my first time in Mexico, I am probably going alone (which is disappointing, but I understand that it isn't cheap to fly and stay in Mexico for four days) and I am running an Ironman. A mixture of excitement, terror and suspense runs through my veins when I think about November. But I am dedicated and have been training hard so I feel confident. However, if anything DOES go wrong or funny mishaps occur then you, my blog readers, will be the first to hear about it. Stay tuned...

Finally, in preparing for the Ironman (aside from daily training), I thought it would be wise to sign up for a few shorter triathlons. I ran my first race this morning since last November (when I completed the Beach2Battleship Half-Ironman). It was a sprint in Waxhaw, NC and it was definitely a "rolling" course. But it was great to get back out and I won a bottle of wine for placing 1st in my age group! Next race: Pinehurst Olympic-distance tri on October 10th.

More to come...

Damn, It Feels Good To Be A Tar Heel!

As any former or current UNC student can tell you, this statement always rings true. But in my three years at UNC, the statement above has never been more true than it was Monday night…when we won the NCAA National Championship!

My dad said it would happen. “They’re going to go all the way this year and you’re not going to be there to see it,” he lectured as I told him of my acceptance to the Cuba Study Abroad program. Granted, many people thought it would be this year. It’s Tyler Hansborough’s last year on the team, we had the majority of players return from last year (when we played in the Final Four) and well, as a Tar Heel family we were all pretty much feeling unstoppable. On Monday morning, knowing we would play for the national title that night, I suddenly wished I was back in Chapel Hill, NC.

Still, our celebration here in Havana, Cuba was a good second (to Chapel Hill, of course). We all crammed in one of the rooms at the residence to be able to watch the game together, doing all of the cheers and shouting purposelessly just as we would have had we been there at the game.

“TAR,” one of us would cry.
“HEELS!” the other side of the room would shout.

We did some of the same cheers after the game had ended, as we all “rushed” Avenida G screaming and shouting with delight. The great American annoyance/boisterousness that stereotypes us as a nationality, but on Monday night, we were willing to fit a stereotype. We ran past the Hotel Presidente, where our program director was staying for his two-day visit, shouting up to the eighth floor where we knew he’d be. We continued on until we reached the Malecon, stopping only to catch our breath as we breathed in the ocean air. We then proceeded to dance and sing, taking pictures and essentially, savoring a precious moment in time.

UNC had won the national championship and Tar Heels all over the world were celebrating the fact that our blood runs blue. Carolina Blue.

The Day I Ran a Half-Marathon, Jumped Out of a Helicopter and Starred in a Comedy Show

I would hardly describe myself as a girl of many talents, but Friday was just quite the productive day.

This weekend, the majority of our study abroad group and a few of the girls from American University decided to go to Varadero. Alyssa and I had already been, but three of the guys that were going had arranged to go skydiving and I really couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

With my Ironman training though, it sometimes makes it difficult for me to do what everyone else does with ease, because they’re not worried about their running or swimming schedule (I’m not able to bike here). My long runs are usually on Saturday and this Saturday my run was 13 miles long. To ensure that I would have a relatively care-free weekend, I got up at 5:30 am on Friday and did my 13 miles before class. After that, the fun could begin…and it did.

There were six of us that took a maquina (one of the old 1950’s Ford cars that function, here in Havana, as a version of a cheap taxi) to Varadero and then proceeded to check in to the resort that Alyssa and I had stayed in the last time we went to Varadero. (For $35 per person, the room and all-you-can-eat breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks and drinks are provided.) After checking in, I went to look for the boys who were skydiving and at the last minute, two of the AU girls decided to jump as well.

While this blog entry may make me sound brave, I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t scared. I was terrified! I was thinking about it all day and although I’d been really excited, I hadn’t ruled out the possibility that I would back out at the last moment. But in the end, my excitement had gotten the best of me and by the time I had realized what I was actually doing, I was moments away from willingly flinging myself out of a helicopter.

Originally when reservations for skydiving were made, we were told that we were going to jump out of an old USSR war plane and land on the beach. However, I think the plane was in disrepair and due to the direction of the wind, we couldn’t land on the beach and we were told that we would be landing on the grassy area where we took off from. Just as we began to wonder where the plane was that we would now be jumping out of, a helicopter flew overhead and landed on the landing strip in front of us.

We were going to jump out of a helicopter!

As we climbed into the helicopter and we gained altitude, I realized it was too late to change my mind. First I saw the two camera people go: it looked like they literally just fell out of the helicopter. Next, Heather (one of the AU girls) dropped out and she looked absolutely horrified. Finally, it was my turn. I was literally strapped to the instructor at four different points of my suit and he turned his back to the open door of the plane. “Ready?” he asked. I was singing Tom Petty’s “Free Falling” to myself as we jumped out.

What a rush! Had I not been wearing goggles, the speed at which we were falling felt like it might have been enough to peel back my eyelids! Before we jumped out, the instructor told me to keep my eyes open the entire time so I wouldn’t miss a thing. “Right…” I thought. The only way I could see myself jumping out of the helicopter was if I didn’t have to look when I did it. But instead? I kept my eyes open the entire time.

The free fall ended when the instructor pulled the parachute open. When he did, it was as if time itself stood still. The rushing downward stopped and I looked around to take in all the sights. All around me were farm lands that, from that high up, looked perfectly manicured and green. And the ocean…wow. When we went skydiving, it was about 7 pm and the sun was just beginning to set and the rays of light danced across the ocean’s surface. The instructor even let me steer the parachute for a minute or two and as we floated back towards the ground, I can’t imagine that the smile on my face could have been any bigger.

After skydiving, we went back to the resort to have dinner and a few drinks. According to the itinerary, there was going to be a comedy show at 9:30 pm down by the pool and we all figured it would at least be a few good laughs to watch while we thought of something better to do. While we sat at the bar and waited for the show to start, the show “host” recognized Alyssa from the last time we had stayed there and pulled her towards the stage to come “help with the show.” Having had a mojito and a fabulous day prior to that, I eagerly followed her on stage. Following me was Louisa and Caitlin (from AU).

What we ended up doing hardly constitutes just “helping with the show.” For all intents and purposes, we WERE the show. The comedy show was actually a series of five competitions, with four female contestants competing. Our first competition was to pretend to be a model on a catwalk doing “sexy moves;” the second challenge was to make the male host of the show “fall in love” with us by saying sweet (generally corny/ridiculous) things to him; third, we had to act out the scene of a man waking up in the morning (scratching inappropriate places, etc.); fourth, we had to sing “Guantanamera” with our mouths full of water (similar to playing Chubby Bunny) and finally, beans were scattered on the floor of the stage which the four of us had to scramble to pick up. Whoever picked up the most beans won that competition. Alyssa ultimately won overall and all four of us were probably the resorts most popular people for the rest of the night. What a show!

After the excitement of the day before, we spent most of yesterday lying on the beach, which looked as beautiful as something you might find on a postcard.

*Last but not least, last night we watched UNC play in the Final Four – and we watched the game at the house of the head of the U.S. interest section. We had gone there to visit a few weeks ago, but because the game was only going to be on CBS and we definitely don’t receive CBS via Cuban satellite here in the Residence, we asked if they wouldn’t mind us watching the game there with them. They were kind enough not only to say yes, but to provide us with the means to stuff ourselves silly (popcorn, candy, cake, cookies, soda, etc.). Maybe they’ll invite us back over tomorrow to play for the national title?

Let The Games Begin!

Every year, la Universidad de Havana holds a series of athletic competitions in the spring, known as los Juegos del Caribe. Events range from everything as common track and field to those like karate to ping-pong. Each team is made up of students from a particular area of study/faculty and the different faculties try their best to have at least a few people compete in each event.

The biology faculty, the same faculty that has been giving us free dance lessons, was nice enough to also let us compete in the Juegos as students of their faculty. Some of us competed in the 1500-meter run, another girl from my study abroad group ran the 400-meter and two of the guys from my group competed in ping-pong. When we were asked to write down a list of athletic capabilities, I wrote that I could run and swim. As a result, I was registered to compete in a duathlon of sorts: a 400-meter run, 50-meter swim, 400-meter run.

The morning of the race, I was excited, but also a little nervous. I hadn’t run a 400-meter race since 10th grade and even then I wasn’t very good. I also looked around and saw students from other faculties that had the indisputable build of skilled swimmers. What I didn’t anticipate being the problem was understanding the rules and regulations of the race. How mistaken I was.

The race was at a beach, Bacuranao, just outside the city of Havana. It took race officials about an hour to set up, but the course wasn’t very formal and/or structured. The race began with the 400-meter run in the parking lot, then taking off your shoes and jumping in the ocean to swim to a buoy and back, and finally repeating the same run in reverse. “That’s simple enough,” I remember thinking. I had also “sized up” the other girls in my heat and after realizing that two or three of them had muscular thighs that each were about the width of both of mine put together, I figured that they would be in front of me and I could just follow them. And then the whistle blew.

I set off running and about 200 meters out, I took a look around me: there was no one there! “Awesome!” I thought to myself. I really hadn’t anticipated being in first place and while these competitions are mostly for fun, I was excited. I made it to the beach, kicked off my shoes and jumped in. As I was swimming to the buoy, I heard race officials shouting at me and Spanish and then finally realized what had happened when I swam into the girl who had been behind me. “What are you doing?!” she yelled in Spanish.

If you can get a mental image, picture this: we had to swim 25 horizontally, parallel to the beach. What I had not fully understood is that we were originally supposed to swim on the side of the buoy that was closest to land and then swim back to get our shoes on the side of the buoy that was farther from land; I had done the opposite. As a result, I came out of the water in second place. Then another problem: my shoes.

I couldn’t manage to squeeze my sand-covered feet back into my shoes and then I just decided to leave my shoes and run barefoot on the asphalt. It was only a 400-meter run anyway. So I left my shoes in their designated basket and proceeded to start running. Again, race officials shouted at me. “Grab your shoes!” they said in Spanish. “Even if you’re not wearing them, you at least have to have them in your hands!” As I turned around and went back for my shoes, another girl passed me. I was now in third place.

Funny enough, all of this is now irrelevant because I ended up getting disqualified. Because of my misunderstanding in the water, I had not “followed the rules” and thus, my race results did not count towards the total points of the biology faculty. It’s funny now, but at the time I felt pretty dumb.

Haha. As if I didn’t stand out enough as the American, I had to go and swim the wrong way.

The Cubacar Diaries

I wish our adventure to Maria La Gorda has been as noble as Che’s ride through South America. And while “noble” isn’t the word I would use to describe our road trip, it was nonetheless a road trip through Western Cuba and as such, an adventure.

We started out as a group of nine American students in two small rented cars departing from Havana two weeks ago. It was only a weekend trip, but we planned to make the most of it. Heading west, we saw lots of farmland, billboards praising the Cuban Revolution and other billboards urging the release of the Cuban Five. At one point, we even saw a military tank on the side of the road! They must have been conducting an army training exercise, but to have only seen billboards and farms for the first 30 miles and then glance to the side of the road and see a tank rolling around, its artillery aiming in different directions – truly a Cuban experience.

Then nightfall came and although we had made plans to stay at a beach villa, we were turned away and told it was full. That also happened again at the next place we tried. Before we knew it, it was half past midnight and we were parked at a gas station, ready to sleep in the cars for the night. On a whim, we decided to ask inside if anyone knew of a casa particular [*houses in Cuba where guests rent a room] nearby where we could simply sleep for the night. A woman and her daughter said that they had a friend that they would call, but it ended up that they couldn’t get in touch with her. So rather than letting us sleep in the cars in the middle of nowhere, the woman and her daughter welcomed us into their own home, no questions asked. They offered us food, let us park the cars in their yard and the next morning, went to the bakery and purchased a bread roll for each of us. They also introduced us to the litter of puppies their dog had recently had and we were awakened by the loud grunts of their two, very hungry, 800-pound pigs! While aspects of our stay were quite funny, the generosity of their family was all too kind. After breakfast we thanked them for everything and continued on our journey.

The morning drive went much better, but the dive time that we were trying to make was 11 am. We pulled into the parking lot of the scuba dive office at 10:45 am and somehow, made it on the boat clad in swim wear and scuba/snorkel gear by 11 am. Only two of us (including myself) were certified to dive and while everyone else snorkeled, we explored the ocean floor of the western-most point in Cuba.

Unfortunately, there really wasn’t that much (in terms of fish and other ocean creatures) to see, but we did see a manta ray and an eel and a few species of very colorful fish. The water, though, was crystal-clear. I think my favorite part of the dive was when our dive instructor led us through two high walls of coral that were so large, it felt as though we were swimming through an underwater cave. It was incredible.

Viñales and Other Cuban Adventures

Last Friday, a few other kids from the study abroad group and myself hopped on a bus after class and headed to one of the western-most parts of Cuba: Vinales.

Vinales is a small town in Western Cuba, also home to a UNESCO World Heritage site. The town is nestled within the Valle de Vinales, made up of mountains, tobacco plantations and some of the most natural beauty to be seen in Cuba. To say the least, we had a great time.

Upon arriving, we all split up in pairs to spend two nights in casas particulares (homes where rooms are rented on a nightly basis). I think the best part of that experience was the food: WOW! Not to say that the food at the Residence is lacking, because it’s not, but the food at these casas particulares was so flavorful, you might just start salivating before you even lay eyes on what’s about to be served. Moros, chicken, pork, platanos, tomatoes, juice, you name it. It’s all there and enough to feed a small army!

But despite my love for food, the food wasn’t even the beginning of our experience. That Friday night, Allison (one of the other girls from the group) and I found a man to take us on a hike through the valley the next day and it was quite a hike! We started at 9am and got back to town around 5pm. But the hike itself was breathtaking. Just being in the valley and looking up to see the surrounding mountain range is something incredible. But throughout the valley were animals, farms and various tobacco plantations. We even stopped at one and were given freshly-squeezed sugar cane juice to drink.

However, the best part of our hike, without question, was when our guide and one of the campesinos (term used for a farmer/peasant) took us to a cave on one of the mountain faces. Haha, I think it would be honest to say that we were all a little nervous about climbing inside. We had to use a rope to climb down into the cave and once to the bottom, with a few steps further in, it was pitch black. We wouldn’t have made it more than a few steps without a flashlight, which luckily, we had.

By miracle of the flashlight, some cautious steps and an adventurous spirit, we made it to the very bottom where we found pools of some of the clearest water I’ve ever seen. It was though, without a flashlight, completely dark. Nonetheless, Allison and I jumped in and swam around. Swimming in a pool at the bottom of a deep, dark cave in Cuba is easily one of the coolest things I have ever done.

The next day, with tired legs, Alec, Allison, Drew and I rented a few bikes and went riding through the valley before catching the bus home to Havana. It was the perfect ending to a fantastic weekend.

As for the past few weeks, I’ve been keeping pretty busy with classes and training. Our classes have been requiring more and more reading as of late and while the readings are interesting, it’s sometimes hard to keep up with it all and still find time to explore the country. Still, I’m managing just fine.

My training, all things considered, is actually going pretty well. I get up early every morning to run along the Malecon and about now, I’m averaging 30 miles per week. Tuesdays and Thursdays I swim at the only pool in the city, la Ciudad Deportiva. Coincidentally, it’s also the same place where the Cuban national swim teams practice as well! Overall though, I’m just glad to be able to swim. I made friends with one of the swim coaches there and she lets me come in to train whenever she is there, which is generally late in the afternoon. She also had a few extra athletic shirts with the Cuban flag printed on and sold one to me. At the time I bought it, I didn’t know it was anything terribly special, but when I wore it later that evening, some of our friends from the university kept asking me where I got it. Apparently, only official Cuban athletes have these shirts. How cool is that?

This weekend plans sound like we´re going a little further west on the island (I think it´s the western’most point) to have a beach weekend and get some scuba diving-snorkeling in. It´s supposed to be some of the best diving on the island...I can´t wait!

There's more than one kind of "papaya"

If you’re Cuban, you might already understand the significance of this phrase. I figured that after not writing for quite some time, I would need a fairly interesting blog entry title. I learned that the other day that, in Cuba, there are two different kinds of papaya:

On the days that we only have one class, some of the other girls in the group (Alyssa, Louisa and Alison) and I take the bus to the beach. The ride is about an hour as we ride along the entire route and when we went last week, I brought a bag of dried fruit with me. In the bag was pineapple, mango and papaya and I offered some, in Spanish, to the three other girls. I looked at Alyssa and asked, “Quieres pina, mango o papaya?” She looked at me frankly and said, “You know you just offered me a bag of vagina, right?”

Apparently I hadn’t been present on the day that everyone BUT me learned that in Cuba, the word “papaya” meant “vagina.” The word for the fruit, papaya, is “fruta bomba.”

Well, I suppose just as quickly as I learned this, I soon forgot it. After a few wonderful hours at the beach, we climbed back on the bus to head home. A few rows in front of us was a cute Cuban boy sitting on the floor. In Spanish, I asked him how old he was. He shyly told me that he was 10 years old. Wanting to continue the conversation, I searched in my bag for something I might be able to share. There was the bag of dried fruit, but all that was left was papaya. Before even thinking, I looked at the 10-year-old boy and asked, “Te gusta papaya…”

It had just barely made it out of my mouth when I realized what I had just asked this young boy. He looked confused and all of the teenage boys around him began to laugh. Alyssa, Louisa and Alison could barely contain themselves before beginning to laugh so hard that they started to cry. It takes a lot to embarrass me, and I can honestly say that I was mortified.

Hours later I realized how funny it actually was.

Still, I can confidently say that my Cuban adventures have involved less verbal errors. Last weekend, Alyssa and I tried to take the Hershey train (a famous American-made train brought to Cuba in 1913) to Matanzas, a city about an hour-and-a-half drive east of Havana. However, after seeing some of the guys in our group depart the train looking as though they had returned from hell (and that the line to Matanzas was broken), Alyssa and I opted to take the bus. Originally we were heading to Matanzas, but everyone else on the bus seemed to be heading to Varadero, a beautiful beach town, and so we changed our minds and went with them.

Upon arriving in Varadero, we needed to find a place to stay. After much walking and searching for over two hours, we ended up deciding upon a hotel instead of a casa particular (renting a room in someone’s house). Actually, what we thought was a hotel turned out to be a resort and I’m not sure which of you reading this have seen the movie “Cocoon,” but that’s exactly what I thought of as we began to walk around the report. Everyone was at least 30 years older than us and Canadian, gathered around the pool soaking in the last bits of sun. It was funny, but a great time overall and once having arrived in Varadero, it proved to be a very relaxing weekend at some of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen.

This past weekend was really fun as well. One of my best friends from high school, Greg, used his dual-citizenship (he was born in Poland) to come visit me in Havana. What a weekend, trying to show him even just Havana in a mere two days! We walked along the Malecon, through Centro Havana and through Havana Vieja, the historic district of the city. Yesterday we went to the Plaza de la Revolucion and saw the famous picture of Che Guevara as well as the Jose Marti Memorial. I also took Greg to take some pictures on the front steps of la Universidad de la Habana and introduced him to all of the people in my study abroad group here. I told him that if he brought a bag of candy with him that they would love him. He really didn’t believe me until he got here and had instant friends.

Showing Greg around this past weekend made me realize how familiar I’ve become with Havana and also, how much of Cuba I still want to see. Luckily, I have over two months left for some great adventures.

Hace Frio en la Habana!

While the weather here is in no way comparable to what's going on in the U.S., Havana is experiencing what Cubans refer to as "los dias mas frio del ano" (the coldest days of the year). And make no mistake: to American kids who brought primarily shorts and tank-tops, it is a bit chilly.

But aside from the weather, I think this week has been the best yet. Last week was primarily settling in, which really kept us on our toes and left us somewhat confused as to what was actually going on in our study abroad program. We still managed to have fun though. We've all been out for drinks (and while I've gone, I've still yet to taste Cuban rum!), we've chatted to locals at every opportunity and we even went to a rave just off campus a few nights ago. Talk about an eye-opening experience!

Our time in Cuba has also left a lot of time for self-reflection as well, and I often find myself sitting on the Malecon, jotting down at least one of innumerable thoughts. Good thoughts, but thoughts that leave me wondering where each subsequent adventure will lead me and what my actual plans are for post-graduation. Luckily I still have another year and a half, but strangely I think being in Cuba might help to answer some questions, even if the answers have nothing to do with Cuba itself.

And on an exciting note, I finally met with the CNN Havana Bureau producer the other day. At this point, after sending emails since October and not receiving much response, I assumed that she was just going to have coffee with me to humor me. But instead, she actually explained that she and Morgan Neil (Havana's Bureau Chief) had been looking into the possibilites for taking on an intern. While I feel like my chances are slim, she promised that it wouldn't be too much trouble to take a look into OFAC regulations and see what might be done. She asked if I knew how to edit using Final Cut Pro and if I was interested in learning about producing. I could barely contain my excitement.

Vivimos en Cuba por cuatro meses!

It’s true.

The rest of the study abroad group (Rose, Allison, Casey, Nick, Drew, Alec, Alex, Louisa, Alyssa, Adam, John, Sarah and Brittany) and myself have been living in Vedado (in Havana) since this past Sunday. I think the fact that we’re in Cuba took a few days to sink in.

It’s been an adventure thus far, exploring Havana Vieja (the historic district), la Universidad de la Habana (where we will be taking classes) and preparing to celebrate the birth of Jose Marti with torches in a march.

The adventure wasn’t too fun for me the first few days, having a nasty ear/sinus infection and an ever-present fever. I’m just now beginning to feel better and I can’t wait to experience the nightlife that Havana has to offer!

We have some in the group who love to salsa, others who want to learn to box and…me? I’m still trying to figure out what it is that is authentically “Cuban” that I want to take away from this. Plenty of time to figure that out though. This is simply the introduction to an eye-opening four months.

"Bahamas for Obama!"

I got to Nassau, Bahamas yesterday around 2pm and as I walked around the streets near the hotel, signs on storefronts read "Bahamas for Obama!"

Clearly, everyone is excited about the inauguration.

I'm excited as well, but by the time Tuesday comes around, the rest of the study abroad group and myself will have been in Cuba for a few days. Our flight leaves for Havana this afternoon and I don't think any of us can really believe it's happening.

But while Cuba is just on the horizon, this is my first time in the Bahamas as well and it is BEAUTIFUL! I cannot believe how crystal-clear the water is and the tropical atmosphere is intoxicating. It reminds me a lot of Key West.

I think we're all going to walk around, explore and maybe visit a beach or two before leaving. And then it's off to Cuba...

I Swam with Sharks on My 21st Birthday!

I did, I really did.

It was a surprise though. Morgan has done a few different stories with a particular shark-diving company and, without me knowing, arranged for the two of us to dive with them on my birthday this past Monday. It was FANTASTIC! We were out in the Indian Ocean for the better part of the day when we first dove in to swim with about 30 or 40 dolphins and later, about that many blacktip sharks. Two tiger sharks also showed up a bit later, but by that time I was passed out on the boat with the color completely drained from my face.

...I get seasick.

Despite feeling terrible, I found my nausea almost funny. That WOULD happen to me when Morgan planned a great surprise and that WOULD happen to me on my birthday, with my head hung over the side of the boat while everyone else threw on their gear to jump in the water. Still, it was an amazing experience. No cages, no harnesses, nothing. Just swimming alongside tens of curious sharks.

One of the women working our particular dive was an American who is doing field work in South Africa as a shark conservationist. We learned quite a bit of valuable information not only about sharks, but about the particular organization which she started up: Shark Savers. For more information, I believe her website is: www.sharksavers.org.

Also, as predicted in my last post, I did have a South African braii for my 21st birthday. Friends from eTV (where I interned last summer) came, some of Morgan's good friends that I've since met and various members of Morgan's family. I have to say that for a 21st birthday far away from home and old friends, it was was wonderful. Morgan and his family prepared everything, down to decorating a little chair for me to sit in. I really couldn't thank them enough.

And now, after having spent an amazing month back in South Africa, I am little more than a week away from leaving for Havana, Cuba where I will live for the next four months. I leave for the the States on Monday, get back on Tuesday and that Saturday I fly out. When this realization hit me last night, it made me somewhat sad. I love South Africa and I think it's a beautiful country. I also won't see Morgan until I run my Ironman in Cozumel this November. However, I think that the best situation to feel sad in is when you're going from one exciting adventure to another.

A South African New Year

First things first: I suck at blogs. My entries are always weeks, if not months, apart. Still, I'm going to keep at it.

So: A lot has happened since my last entry. I made it to South Africa just fine, after two days of grueling flights. It occurred to me as I was walking down the passageway from the airplane, having had my passport stamped and wondering which line to stand in (there were only two: one said "RSA citizens" and the sign for the other line read "all other African citizens") that it had been quite a while since I had seen my boyfriend, Morgan. As I continued to walk, all of the weight of our cross-continental relatiionship seemed to overwhelm me and I was just about to turn when I saw a huge smiling face, clad in a faded UNC shirt, pushing through the crowd. While I was still pretty nervous about seeing him, the weight seemed to lift and right then I figured out what I had worked so hard for throughout the semester.

Since then, I've been living quite a fun (and MUCH more relaxing) life. For the first time in months, I'm sleeping in past 7am and enjoying the morning - and not lacing up my running shoes as frequently as I probably should. We've been keeping busy, though.

Morgan arranged a great surprise for me last week. He is a TV reporter for eTV, one of the national TV stations here, so he made use of some connections and I got to go to the Sea World in Durban and see the world's largest dolphin (he looked more like a miniature whale!) and it's 3-week-old baby. Very cool. We also went snorkeling with some fish native to the region and opted to later drop down into a pool of sharks. It was a FANTASTIC day!

I've also been meeting a lot of people. I visited the Zulu family in Cato Manor that I lived with this summer and dropped off some Christmas presents with them that I'm hoping they enjoy. I've been meeting a lot of Morgan's friends as well. I went to my first official braii (*South African version of a BBQ, very popular) and also went to a friend's 21st birthday celebration. It's funny how the legal drinking age here in RSA is 18, but the 21st birthday is still quite the big deal. My 21st is on January 5th (4 days!!!) and I'm pretty excited myself. I think we're going to have a braii...

As far as New Year's celebration, it was great. We scored complimentary tickets to a rooftop party at a hotel followed by dancing at a bar nearby. I must admit though, I did truly miss seeing the ball drop. BUT I don't think I'll have another South African New Year's anytime soon, (or at least not next year) so I soaked up every minute.