9/11/01

“The landscape of New York has just been changed and you have to presume that thousands of lives have been extinguished.”

Those were the words I heard when I first started to realize that something major had happened on the East Coast on that fateful morning 10 years ago today. Words spoken by Peter Jennings. Words that sent a chill down my spine as I was driving to work.

I still remember the exact place I was when I heard those words: waiting for the light to turn green on the corner of West Carillo Street and San Andres Street in Santa Barbara. 

September 11, 2001 started out as any other work day for me. I got up around 7am, put on my running clothes, tied my running shoes, put Nelson on a leash and headed out the door for our daily six mile run. As I was running down Carrillo Boulevard towards Shoreline Park on this perfect Santa Barbara day I noticed that the roads seemed to be less busy than normal and I did not run into the usual early morning dog owner crowd in the park, but I did not pay much attention as I turned around at the bottom of Shoreline and made my way back home. I took a shower, got dressed, fed the dog, brushed his teeth (don’t ask!), picked up my backpack and got into the car to go to work.

Just a typical morning in our house, except for one minor detail: David had flown to a conference in Atlanta (of all places!!!) the day before and therefore the TV, which is usually switched on by the time Nelson and I get back home, remained idle. I never turned in on that morning and was literally oblivious when I got into the car and the radio station did not play the usual music. Instead a male voice that sounded like Peter Jennings was talking. Without really listening to what he was saying I switched to a different station only to hear the same voice. By the time I tried my luck with the third station and was again faced with who was now clearly Peter Jennings I had reached the first traffic light and slowly started to listen… WHAT??? Is this some kind of sick joke? I was immediately ripped out of the early morning, pre work trance and thrown into the reality of one of the most tragic days in this nation’s history. By the time I arrived at work ten minutes later I had been able to somehow put two and two together and ran upstairs to my office where I found my co-worker and dear friend in tears watching a live stream of downtown Manhattan on her computer screen. Even before I asked her “did we have an attack?” I already knew the answer and as we learned more details we realized then and there that this country would never be the same.

Since no one knew how many planes were involved and as we heard the news reports that all air traffic would be shut down my thoughts went to Atlanta… A place you do not want to be stuck in! Or any place other than home on that particular day. But that is exactly the situation David found himself in. With nowhere to go. The conference was canceled and all transportation out of Atlanta was immediately booked solid, including rental cars. But quite honestly, I did not care at that moment. All I cared about was that he was save. It is amazing how selfish we become when it concerns a loved one. Not a lot of constructive work got done that day and as more and more of our fellow co workers arrived we made sure immediately that all their loved ones were OK as well, before turning our attention back at the unfolding news. Late afternoon we all gathered at the restaurant next door to watch President Bush address the nation and a sense of community spread amongst those gathered around the table. We all realized we were in this together and that we could only overcome this tragedy by putting differences aside and working in unison. And amazingly this feeling lasted. I think back to those days and weeks following the events of 9/11 and how our country rallied, standing unified behind our President. It did not matter if you voted for him or not. He was our leader and needed all the support he could get. I remember listening to him speak and thinking how this event would shape the rest of his still young presidency…

But today is not the time for any kind of political banter. Today I am only grateful that the mastermind of the September 11th attacks cannot take glory in their 10th anniversary!

Today’s Running Tip: There will be no running tip today!

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Johannes

Some people come into our lives, leave footprints on our hearts,

and we are never the same. ~ Anonymous

His name was Johannes.

He was the second of five boys. All only a few years apart.

His dad was one of the most prominent eye surgeons in Germany who practiced in a major clinic just around the corner from the house I grew up in.

And on May 17th, 1985 Johannes jumped out of his father’s office window on the 5th floor and to his death. He was 26 years old.

Of all my adolescent memories this is by far the most traumatic and is the one that has stuck with me to this day.

Johannes was one of the most brilliant people I had ever met. He breezed through high school without ever having to worry about not getting an A+. He spoke several languages fluently and had a natural gift for music that left those who knew him breathless. And yet, he was a very lost and tortured soul. A good soul, but a soul that could no longer deal with being around those who loved him most.

I remember the day he died as if it was yesterday. I was at a friend’s house who lived right next to Johannes’ family. Caroline’s dad was the main anesthesiologist and critical care doctor at the same hospital Johannes’ dad worked. Words cannot describe what went through my head when he came home that night of May 17th and told us that he had been called to the scene first in the hopes that he could save the life of his friend’s and colleague’s son, a life said son could no longer bear to live.

The news of this tragic event went around our small community like wildfire but the shock we all felt was nothing in comparison to what Johannes’ suicide did to his own family. The night of her son’s unimaginable death his mother went to bed a mostly dark haired woman only to wake up completely grey the next morning. She had aged decades in the course of a few hours. His father, grief stricken beyond anything one, who has not been through the same emotional turmoil, can understand was a mere shell of himself for months.

Many days I saw both of Johannes’ parents walking in their expansive back yard, hand in hand, holding each other up, yet unsteady in each other’s company. For those of us close to the family it became apparent that a rift had opened up in Johannes’ family that could never be repaired and we started to wonder if his parents’ marriage would survive.

What their brother’s suicide did to the rest of the boys was not immediately apparent but turned into one of the most heart breaking episodes of my life. Although at the time I was clueless.

In August of the same year I went on my Senior Class trip to Prague. One of Johannes’ brothers, who was in my grade went on the same trip. Jürgen was admired by many of my (female!!!) classmates. Like his older brother he had a brilliant mind, which in combination with his almost unreal good looks, made him a prime target for adolescent fantasies. With the exception of yours truly. Besides being on friendly terms he had never really caught my attention. And therefore it is still a mystery to me how I got myself so involved with this young man that it almost ruined my entire future.

It started innocently enough on the bus ride to the Golden City with jokes and innocent touches. By the time we were on our way back home I was so head over heals in love I would have done anything to keep the relationship alive. Little did I know at the time that I almost lost myself in the process to do just that.

I did understand that Jürgen was still in mourning over his brother at the time of our trip, even though he never talked about it and I never pushed him to do so. Not then and not any time over the months that followed. In fact in all those months he only mentioned Johannes once. Looking back I realize that deep down I knew from the beginning that this was a fragile relationship, one that could shatter at any moment.

What I did not know while I was blissfully walking hand in hand through Prague was that Johannes had been in love with a girl that had left him to pursue a modeling career in Paris and his younger brother had gotten it in his head that this was the reason for Johannes’ depression and suicide.

Instead I let myself love someone that was emotionally completely unavailable, and when I say “love” I don’t mean this lightly. I truly and utterly loved this boy, more so than I had ever loved anyone. It‘s not that I had not had my fair share of boyfriends before my life was taken hostage, but it had become clear to me very early on that being with Jürgen felt different than anything I had ever felt before. It was truly scary and definitely overwhelming. Especially since it had also become very clear from the beginning that this feeling was not mutual, or, if it was, he was never going to allow it to flourish.

And hence began a torturous game of back and forth, giving and taking, not giving back and taking more. I tried my hardest to push back but every time I did Jürgen would pull me back, and every time I hoped it would be better this time around. It never was. His fear of commitment and getting hurt overshadowed everything else and left me broken and deeply wounded. No matter how much I gave of myself it never felt enough and I became completely occupied with trying to make Jürgen love me back as much as I loved him.

The fact that he would never really let go only made matters worse. It would have been easier if had just kicked me to the curb told me straight that he did not want to be in this relationship, but he never did. Instead he just manipulated me from a distance that was comfortable for him. And for me, there was no way out. I had completely lost all rational thought and let myself be manipulated beyond reason.

When it finally did end I had lost 10 pounds from my already slim frame and almost failed High School, my heart broken beyond repair, or so I thought.

It took me years to get over this “relationship” and him. Years of healing and finding new trust. In the end it was  Jürgen himself who helped me the most. We had not seen each other for a few years when we ran into each other at a friend’s wedding. At first my heart skipped a beat but eventually I was able to actually have a conversation with him. We even danced, which almost made me cry. A week later his letter arrived, the first of many. A letter that started a most intense exchange of communication I have ever had. He wanted to explain himself and because I still cared for him I let him. I also wanted answers and saw this as my chance. I got them all. He needed emotional closeness to someone at the time we went to Prague. Closeness he could not get at home. Closeness, he himself was unable to feel to anyone. He wanted and needed to feel loved but was scared beyond words of loving himself. His brother’s death had taken all of it away from him. I cried! And we both healed over the course of many letters and exchanges!

I still think of him and what suicide can do to a family. Through Adrienne’s passing I know that the death of a child brings unimaginable sorrow to the parents. Imagine the cause of death being suicide… Johannes’ suicide became a part of me even though I was not immediate family. His horrible death had an impact on not only his family’s life but the life of those who loved and still love them.  I am sure his parents never got over the tragic loss of their son and I only hope that his brothers are living lives filled with happiness and love.

Jürgen and I stayed in touch for a while after I moved back to the States but over the years we have lost contact. The last I heard of him he was married with two children and my hope for him is that he himself feels unconditional love for his wife and family, because everyone deserves this. I wish nothing but the best for him and hope that true heartbreak will never enter his life again.

My experience at the tender age of 18 did not only cause grief and heartache, however. It showed me how much I am capable of baring my soul to another person and letting them into my heart. Something I cherish deeply to this day.

 

Today’s Running Tip: Feeling blue? Go for a run!

Running and exercise in general is a proven stress buster and helps relieve anxiety. Working out helps with self esteem, gets your heart rate up and eases muscle tension, which in turn will help you relax, stay alert and therefore better able to face every day problems.  And what better stimulant than taking a run in fresh air.

 

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Happy Easter

I am not a religious person. I am not even what you would consider a spiritual being. I grew up Lutheran by default as that was my parents “religion” and therefore on my birth certificate. The End!

Germany does not have a separation of church and state and everyone automatically belongs to one church/religion or another. You pay church tax that comes directly out of your paycheck unless you make a conscious effort to opt out, sign the necessary paperwork and pay a fee. I did just that when I turned 18. And even though there is no official separation religion plays a much lesser role in politics and every day life than it does here, where we supposedly have said separation. Go figure!

For as long as I can remember religion has always been a bit suspect to me and if I had to choose a faith for myself I would probably go with Buddhism, which is more of a philosophy. A philosophy that thrives to end suffering, achieve nirvana, and escape what is seen as a cycle of suffering and rebirth. Which is just the opposite of what most other religious branches seems to be after. As we know most wars are being fought over differences in religious beliefs and the amount of bloodshed “in the name of God” is rather off putting to me personally.

But I do understand that for many people their belief is essential to their (well) being and I truly respect everyone’s religious freedom, just as long as they do not scrutinize me as a non believer. I had an almost traumatizing experience with rather overzealous religious fanatics (yes, fanatics) my first year in college and still shudder thinking about those weeks where people would show up on my door step in the middle of the night to scream at me for knowing “the truth” and refusing to be “born again”. Interestingly enough I never heard of a believer experiencing the same trauma at the hand of a non believer although I am sure it is possible. Maybe!

In any case, I don’t want to get into too many details as it is Holy week and Pesach and I want to respect those for whom this is the highest holiday of the year.

With that in mind I am here to tell you that Easter has always been my favorite holiday, especially when it falls in April. It marks the end of winter and spring is in full bloom, summer on its way. Yes, even as a kid summer was my all time favorite season. All throughout my childhood and adolescence Easter was associated with fun times. I usually spent the holiday and three weeks off from school with my aunt and uncle in Vienna. My aunt used to go all out for Easter with egg colorings (my favorite) and lots of baked goods.  For Easter week we always went spring skiing. The snow was still powdery and soft, the sky deep blue, the sun was shining and the temperatures were warm enough to hit the slopes in a T-shirt. And we always ended up with the typical spring skiing tan lines. Badges of honor! The honor of being outdoors and enjoying a sport I love almost as much as running. And one year I had the extra bonus of falling in love with a local, a teenage crush (OK, I cried all the way back to Vienna!) but it made this holidays just a bit more delicious!

To this day I love this time of year. In the desert spring is in the air, the mornings are still cool enough to run comfortably and the evenings are starting to get balmy. The mid day temperatures are warm and the pool is still cool enough to be refreshing. After Easter most of the snowbirds will go back to their northern states and everything starts to slow down, traffic eases and the gym will empty out.

I cannot wait for summer!!!

Today’s Running Tip: Summer races!

Spring is the ideal time to prepare for summer races. Speed work in spring, when temperatures are still on the cool side, will help you develop the strength, speed, and power you will need for summer races.

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Giving Thanks

23 years ago I celebrated my first Thanksgiving in this country. I spent it at Denny’s. Yes, the place that claims to be “Always Open”! And it was indeed!

I had just arrived “fresh off the boat” a month prior and really had not the slightest idea about this holiday. The concept of turkey, stuffing and the Macy’s parade was still as foreign to me as Pumpkin Pie. In fact I was so oblivious that I did not even know this was a holiday until I woke up that Thursday morning and realized my host parents were not leaving for work. Instead they were seated in front of the TV watching huge balloons pulled by humongous floats through the streets of New York City. I could not imagine anything more boring!!!

We lived in Chester Springs at the time, a small enclave about 30 miles north west of Philadelphia. Not much else was going on that day, which was OK as were packing to go out of town for the long weekend. Although I found it a bit odd that we had to watch the entire spectacle of the parade first before we could actually leave for our drive up north to Marlboro, Massachusetts – another exciting place!  We took the scenic route through New York City, still buzzing from all the parading and since it was dinner time before we even hit the Massachusetts state line I got to enjoy my first Thanksgiving dinner at Denny’s. And no, I did not order their “Thanksgiving Special”.

When we finally arrived at my host parents friends’ house in Marlboro it was way past late o’clock but it was then that I met Jacqui and Barry. Little did I know at the time that they would become friends for life! If we had had a chance to look into the future back then on that cold Thanksgiving weekend in New England what would we have done with that insight? Let’s just say that it is probably a good thing that we couldn’t get a glimpse of what lay ahead, even though it worked out very well for all of us and we spent many Thanksgivings in each others company. We are definitely different people from the ones that met on that snowy driveway 23 years ago, trials and tribulations for all of us, highs and lows, that thing called “life”, allowed us to evolve. Jacqui lives in Chester now and Barry in Italy, Tuscany to be exact (I KNOW!), and we do not get to spend as much time with them as we used to and want to but our friendship has endured and remains strong to this day. A friendship both David and I are grateful for. They are family!!!

So this week it is only fitting that I list the things I am thankful for this year and of years past:

Jacqui and Barry!!!
sunny skies
a roof over our heads
Nelson
my health
David’s health
clean sheets to sleep in every night
a solid marriage
the fact that the right person won the last Presidential election
that I have no addiction other than the one to exercise
bananas
Facebook connections
memories of good times
being able to start each day with a bike ride
my iPhone (shallow? I don’t care!)
the morning ritual of drinking herbal tea
my Welsh relatives
desert summers
being able to call myself a citizen of this great country

Today’s Running Tip: Run a local Turkey Trot!

If there is a Turkey Trot scheduled in your neck of the woods be sure to sign up and run it. Turkey Trots are usually 5-K races, easy to prepare for and great fun to get out in your community and meet up with other local runners. Not to mention the added benefit of burning some calories before sitting down for the Thanksgiving Feast!

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The past does not always paint with a golden brush

So (it is always a good sign when your blog post starts with “So”! Me thinks) the other day I received an email from one of my oldest and dearest friends. And by “old” I am not referring to her age but to the length of our friendship. I met Annette on the first day of my very first class at the Ludwig-Maximillians Universität in Munich, a class I showed up to a week late… By the time I made it to class everyone had already gotten to know each other the previous week when yours truly was missing because she had no idea when her “Introduction to English Literature” was actually going to take place. It sort of set the stage for the remainder of my years as a student. When I finally showed up a week late all seats were taken but the one next to Annette and we became friends instantly. I guess when you have to analyze Jane Austen’s “Emma” and her match making skills you have no choice but to bond and bonding we did. For the next 4 1/2 years our friendship grew through the good times and the not so good times.

We only lived a few miles apart, Annette in one of the student bungalows in the Olympic Village (which were torn down a couple of years ago), me just up the road in Fasanerie, and many evenings and weekends were spent together. In the summer we often packed up our picnic baskets with caprese salad and trifle and headed to the nearest Biergarten on our bicycles, meeting up with friends over wheat beer and soft pretzels. On days when we had no class and on weekends you could find us along the banks of the Feldmochinger See catching sunny rays and enjoying the summer heat in Bavaria. Then there was our annual white asparagus feast in May. We survived the long and cold winters with ski aerobics at the Olympic Village Gym, followed by hot tea and crispy bread with honey or Nutella, Kaesespaetzle at the “Scheidegger” and the annual holiday baking in my kitchen.

We only spent time apart during spring breaks, when Annette went off to South Africa where her aunt and uncle owned a farm and I worked, and summer break, which I spent in California every year.

Sounds lovely? Well it wasn’t!

I know that for a lot of kids out there college is the most fabulous time of their lives and they can hardly wait for it. The partying, the endless supply of alcohol, and finally escaping their parents’ prying eyes. For me it was anything but.

Since I had already lived away from home for two years before I moved to Munich – and when I say “away” I mean “far away”, 7000 miles to be exact – the novelty of escaping my childhood home had already worn off. And as German kids are allowed to officially have a drink at the tender age of 16 – although most have their first taste unofficially at an earlier age – my experience with alcohol poisoning had happened in high school and I had no desire to repeat the joys of losing two days of my life. The only time I got even remotely drunk was on my very last night in Munich when I celebrated my departure with margaritas and ended up falling asleep on the last subway ride of the night which resulted in instant sobriety when I realized I was one station short of the end, 50 miles out of Munich. At 2am! Without a penny of change!

When I was still living at home I often dreamed of the day when I could just do whatever I chose to do, spend nights away from home and never having to explain myself afterwards to my parents who were strong believers in curfews even after I had turned 18. The amount of nights I did not come home while I was in college: ZERO! For some reason nothing seemed as exciting as sleeping in my own bed every night and waking up to my room mate playing classical music CDs and the smell of her brewing coffee and baked goods on weekend mornings.

Instead of partying I hunkered down for the first times since 7th Grade and actually worked hard at getting through the Master’s Degree as fast as possible and move back to the place my heart belonged to. And studying hard I did, often taking on more than double the workload of the regular degree requirements for the semester while completing and handing in term papers before the term was actually coming to a close in the summer. But I did not mind as it allowed me to fly back to California the beginning of August, rather than the middle, meaning that I could spend three full months on the west coast. A time I waited for nine months out of every year. The summer months were my favorite time of year even back then, but for different reasons as they are now, and November SUCKED, even more so than it does now!!! Stepping off the airplane in Munich on a cold, damp November evening after having spent three glorious months in the Bay Area was about as depressing as it gets. The only positive (if you can even call it that) was the fact that I had usually scheduled my return flight a day before classes started up for the winter semester and was therefore right back in the swing of student life within 12 hours of touching down.

The most fun I had in Munich was my last year there and the fact that I knew my time was coming to an end helped me skip along through my thesis on victorian women (don’t be jealous now!), my final exams in English comprehension, American History and Political Science, and my summer that, for the first and last time, I spent in its entirety in Munich.

17 years have gone by since that last endless summer at the foot of the Bavarian Alps. Annette graduated six months after me and when I left she inherited all my IKEA dishes, some of which she still uses today. After her graduation she worked in Munich for a year before meeting the love of her life in South Africa and settling into her new home in Johannesburg where she has been raising two boys. We have not seen each other since she visited me in 1995 but we have remained in contact and are able to pick up where we left off. One of my future travel plans does include an extended trip to South Africa and I am sure it will be just like old times when I get to see her again. We will probably eat caprese salad, trifle, and crisp bread with honey or Nutella.

I have noticed that Annette often wants to write about our days in Munich and although she does not say it directly I can read between the lines that she misses her days as a student. I understand that her experience was different from mine in that she did not have to overcome constant heart ache but I also remember how stressed out she was about school and getting her degree, something I hardly ever worried about. I had never worked hard in high school (my mom always blamed hair graying hair on my lack of interest in school work during my teenage years) but I realized early on that I was making up for my disastrous high school years when I became a university student. Annette on the other hand always doubted herself which overshadowed the good times she had. It is curious that she only wants to remember how fun her life was and on several occasions she has mentioned that she would love to go back in time. I say: NO WAY!!!

On Twitter I follow “MunichPhoto” and get to look at a new photo of places in and around Munich every morning. I truly and utterly love it as I recognize most of the places in the photograph and can usually recall that last time I went by. But I realize that the enjoyment is due to the fact that I can reminisce from the place I call home, the place my heart belongs to. For the same reason I also thoroughly enjoyed visiting Munich a few years ago, dropping by the house I lived in and revisiting all the old familiar hang outs. I even went back to Annette’s old bungalow. All with the comfort of knowing that I would be going home! The place I love most!

Yes, we did have some good times during our years in Munich but I was glad when I could close this chapter of my life. I never looked back from that day my dad picked me up, the day I said “Good Bye” to the hardest four 1/2 years of my life!

Today’s Running Tip: Staying warm and injury free while traveling to alpine climates!

One of the ways to warm up in icy conditions is to run on the treadmill, run up the staircase, or jump rope for 10 minutes before hitting the road!

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