Fire & Ice

These days, my competitive streak has taken a turn for the worse.

The half-marathon is so close...only 17 days and 12 hours remaining until that warm, Moroccan sun will be burning my shoulders while I run 13.1 miles alongside palm trees and sweaty, seemingly asthmatic competitors. Keeping myself going in the cold, brutal wind along the Rhein River is no small feat.

Often alone in my misery, I seek out unsuspecting pawn who I can chase down while working on my turnover and tempo pace--cyclists, dogs, other runners, barges, and pedestrians chasing after buses are only a few examples of the innocent bystanders and objects I victimize along the Rhein and on the sidewalks of Mainz. The sad thing is, I don't realize half of the time what I'm doing.

Take the poor lady riding her bicycle the other day, for instance. Both of us were steadily climbing the subtle hill that leads to the university when I decided to keep pace with her and stay right alongside her back wheel for the entirety of the climb. It wasn't until she gave me a confused and somewhat offended look that I realized that this was no pacing bicycle sometimes found in cross country races to keep the leader from getting lost in the woods. I conveniently turned down another street and decided not to follow her anymore. Unfortunately, this was not the last case of my compulsive competitiveness.

The second time involved a dog, who, like most dogs in Mainz, was without a leash (I do dare to say, while, of course, knocking on wood, that dogs in Germany are very well behaved), and had playfully decided to run alongside me, leaving his owner in the dust. I took this as another opportunity for a race--unfortunately my canine friend had to forfeit, as he was called back by his owner (his name was Buddha).

Another time, more recently, I was running by the entrance to the university, where many students wait for the buses to take them into town. Suddenly, the fellow next to me started to break into a run. Thinking he was mocking me, and, naturally, putting up a challenge, I indiscretely looked over my right shoulder at him and picked up the pace. I made it past the bus stop, convinced that I had been victorious, when I realized my rival was in fact only trying to catch the number 58 that had come barrelling down the street seconds before.

But hey, at least I got some speed-work in.

Appropriately enough in Germany, wishing someone a Happy New Year equates to wishing them a good "slide" into the New Year ("einen guten Rutsch")--something very appropriate for January weather and runners, like myself, that tend to (gracefully) glide along the ice while chasing down dogs and bike tires.

This New Year, although nothing outrageous for Erich and I, was definitely memorable. Hanging out with the other students that live in Inter I, the 16-story building where Erich, Hannah, and Dito all live, Erich and I climbed up to the roof at midnight to see a panoramic show of fireworks all throughout Mainz. Earlier that day, I had quickly learned that fireworks were very legal in Germany, as I had seen hundreds of people carrying dozens of fireworks home with them on the bus and through the cobble-stoned streets (they will trip you up--don't be fooled by their quaint appearance). That night, however, I was very much surprised to see not only Mainz's fireworks display along the Rhein, and Frankfurt's in the distance (up for debate), but also every household in the city shooting green, red, and gold sparks up into the sky. Everywhere you turned, you could see a continuous light show. We even set a rocket or two (or twenty) off of the roof ourselves. It went on for a good half-hour, until we all gave into the cold and headed back inside to fight over dibs on the elevator.

The next morning, as I ran along the Rhein, the remains of fireworks littered all of the streets. I had never seen so much Umweltverschmutzung in my life--that goes for the sky, too, as it was pretty smokey the following morning. There were also a lot of shattered champagne bottles (it's the new confetti).

Kulturgeld is going fast these days--with several trips to the opera, a trip to the Städel Museum in Frankfurt today, and a potential Berlin trip in a few weeks, Hannah and I are making the most of glorious Middlebury reimbursement. And there's still oh-so-much-more to see.

Peace, love, and European outlets (!),
Amanda