The Boy who Cried Wolf

I recently read this story again, in class, and although I remembered it, it resonated this time. The situation here in Greece cannot be described as good, but for some reason, I have remained calm.
I have spent the last two years, in 3 month cycles of panic and relief, breath holding and deep breathing alternately. Every three months (or so) there is a new threat, a new Eurogroup meeting, the next tranche, the possibility of default, of exit from the Eurozone... I spend several days closing watching and listening to the news, reading articles, thinking of 'what if's'. Yet, so far, we have evaded destruction... we march on.

Disaster might be close, but I have simply run out of emotional energy to invest into it. If it happens we will find a way. If it doesn't, so much the better. Like the villagers in the story, I am not responding to the boy... yet the wolf might be nearer than ever.

In the meantime we are enjoying all that Greece has to offer. Having made a very conscious decision to stay (it seems the best choice for us, personally, professionally and strangely, financially too, at this stage) we have also made a conscious decision to enjoy the best of Greece. And we have!

We have taken to the mountains several times and have extended our excursions further afield,  not simply to the mountain out our front yard (which are still  visited regularly nonetheless). We have made a point of travelling around Greece a bit more - we visited the beautiful area of Kalamata in the Peloponnese and ran in the Natura Reserve. We are also spending more time with friends, enjoying the reliably sunny weather outside at every occasion.


Resting after a morning run on Immitos with friends.



Not forgetting to stop and smell the flowers on the way...



Dusk in the Peloponnese.

We have also decided to do something - not to simply complain about the situation. We set up a community project http://runwildathens.blogspot.com/- a series of fun runs for all, which we hope will benefit both the charities we want to help, as well as all the people who join us. We feel that Greece needs more community involvement, more people off the sofas and on the road, trying to achieve, however small the contribution or achievement might be.

Finally we have also been racing - May and early June seem to be prime race season in Greece (it then gets too hot it seems). Our first race for the season saw me coming second (unexpectedly and mainly due to luck, I feel) on a short, but steep mountain race on Parnitha. I certainly had fun, especially tumbling down the mountain - at last all this downhill training paid off!

(Thank you to Path Runners for this picture!)

Unfortunately with all the racing, training (and standing up at work all day) I seem to have picked up a little niggle. So, more swimming and cycling from now on - maybe look at another tri towards the end of the season? That is, if Greece it still standing after the upcoming elections...

Running on snow

Both an actual reality, as well as an allegory for what life has been like lately...

We have been running on snow. Literally and figuratively. I often make analogies of life and sport and this one dawned on me after I had been looking at some of the pictures from a run we did a couple of weeks ago. It was a wonderfully sunny day, maybe the first of spring, and we decided to go and run on Parnitha for the day. First we climbed the nearly vertical mountain, step by step, lungs screaming and legs burning.

Then we reached the more level part of the mountain and were surprised to see there was still snow there (rookies!). I was wearing my favourite running shoes, my inov8 195's, a great pair of shoes, but made for road and certainly not for compacted and iced-over snow. We started running, at first avoiding the snow, then the further up we went there were fewer and fewer parts not covered.

Soon the whole trail was covered and the choice was simple - keep to the footsteps in front of you, but fear slipping on the compacted snow, or go onto virgin snow and risk occasionally sinking up to your thigh.

Life has been a bit like that too. We have been running up the mountain on snow. 2011 was a tough, tough year in every sense of the word. It left us winded and tired, deflated and unsure of where to go from there. But life is relentless and you can only go forward. After the steep uphill that was last year, we have now hit the plateau.

2012 has started well and is certainly easier than last year. It is however, covered in snow. We are taking tentative steps, unsure of what we'll find. Greece is in crisis. Not a theoretical one, but the kind of crisis that has left people on the streets, that has children fainting in class from not having eaten for days, that sees friends losing their jobs, relatives unpaid for months, pensions disappearing, cold houses in a long, long winter.

We have been moving forward, yet looking down. Wary of the holes and the icy parts. Having to make choices of whether we stay on the path or diverge from it. Careful of hidden traps and moving towards something we don't know much about.

But, like running in snow last weekend, we have actually been in a position to enjoy it a bit more. It can be tough, but we've had two really difficult years and we know that we can do this. We've been through worse and have come through. We have each other for balance and we can pick each other up. And like that, we are getting into our stride, both figuratively and literally and enjoying the route.

Not bad, for the first day of spring!

Crisis

Life has a way to keep you on your toes, I've been finding out increasingly. Just when you think that everything's good, you are reminded that at the end of the day we have but an illusion of control over what happens.

I realise that not everyone thinks like that. I also realise that I used to be one of those people who thought they were in control of their lives and destinies. I have been proven wrong.

If nothing else, life has a sense of humour. It is deeply ironic in so many ways.

My last post about happiness was followed by a very difficult month of dreams and hopes crushed. Another pregnancy, another loss, followed by complications, hospitals, endless blood tests. Still not out of that and wondering if I will ever be.

But as we battled with that we are also faced with the harsh reality of a country in crisis. The financial crisis has finally affected us. Our salaries have been cut, so that we can carry the burden of debt along with all our fellow salaries employees and pensioners. VAT has continued to rise and now even food has a 23% stamp on it.

Food bills have risen enormously. Heating oil has become prohibitive, heralding a difficult winter. Rising taxation means the paycheck at the end of the month has seen a decrease. Family members are losing their jobs, some others have been unpaid for months. My mother's pension - something she worked for for almost 40 years, has been reduced repeatedly.

And on top of that the government keeps sending emergency taxation bills. And emergency bills for the unemployed. And, as if that wasn't enough, emergency property taxation which is attached to our electricity bill and if we don't (can't) pay we get our electricity cut!

And yet, the untouchables, those who do not declare, those who have their money in Swiss bank accounts, those who routinely cheat the system, once more get away scot free. (Which by the way is an Old English word meaning exempt form royal tax, how apt!) How frustrating is that! How maddening to live in a country where only some have to pay, the ones who have always paid!

We are not sure where this is going. We are not sure how much of it we can endure. We have built a life here that is wonderful - we have a nice house, jobs we enjoy, freedom to walk our dogs on the mountain, to play tennis on a municipal court on a beautiful Friday night, to run and cycle on the mountain. We have the luxury to wake up to sunshine every day, to sit out for dinner in our garden well into autumn, to look at the sea from our kitchen window and the mountains from our bathroom. But where do you draw the line? When do you decide that you cannot go on in this situation, pack and leave?

These are not rhetorical questions, they are questions we have been asking ourselves every day. Answers much appreciated :)

A new kind of happiness

It feels like we have finally come out of a very long, very dark period. It included illness and death, forest fires, several house moves, unemployment and financial troubles, miscarriage, pain and injury. And yet we have come out.

I have to be honest: there were times in that period when I really did think that life was never going to be fun again. I had lost all hope that "things would work out" and in fact I would get angry when people said that to me. The truth is, and we have found that the hard way, that things don't always work out in life. Unfortunately you don't always get what you deserve, or have worked hard for. That is the lesson and the strength I gained from the last two years.

And a new kind of happiness. The sun is shining brighter than it ever has before. Small things don't matter, yet they give me huge amounts of happiness. D and I are finally enjoying ourselves, the summer, Greece. We have started doing races again. We have been on holiday. We are infused with energy and creativity.

At the moment we are channelling this energy into fixing our house. My dad built it (took him 13 years) and has unfortunately not been repaired for the last 10+ years. We are scrubbing, sanding, coating, painting and cleaning away.

In our spare time we walk our dogs, run races, meet friends and enjoy each other's company. Life is good!

"Whatever you do...

...don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s."

I have felt old lately. Not physically, as I have in fact started running again after my 12 weeks of inactivity. I feel mentally old and tired. I feel I have become wiser in some ways, but mostly I have lost the optimism that youth is synonymous with.

I have lost hope in what everyone around me seems to keep saying: "everything will turn out OK". Well, I don't believe that anymore. Life in the last couple of years has shown me that often everything does NOT turn out OK. There is simply no reason why things will. Life is simply not fair, you do not get what you deserve. Or rather you might or might not get what you deserve. I knew it, I guess we all do, but lately I have felt it really deeply.

There is a hollowness inside me and I have been carrying a weight with me. My thoughts have been on the nature of life a lot, and I have been discussing it with those close to me. It's hard to explain it, I guess, but I feel it deeply.

The revelation in all of the above is this: even when life is tough, even when there is loss of hope, there can be pleasure in life. Even in my darkest moments life can be funny, happy, warm. Even in the long and hard build up to my dad's death, even then we had laughs. I cherish those moments. Even after the loss of our baby, even then we had love and warmth.

And that is the miracle of life, even in its darkest moments its way preferable to the alternative.

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The title really touched me when I read it [or I guess heard it, it's from Baz Luhrmann Lyrics - Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)]. As people we naturally do both. But truth is, life throws all sorts of stuff at us and, really, we have little choice in it. Our only choice is in our reaction. I plough ahead into the future! It's spring time!

Silence

I have been silent for the last month or so, no news of my training or plans to race. It's because for the last 2 months and a bit I had been pregnant. We were expecting little baby B in early November of this year and both D and I, though a little surprised, were very excited. It took us a few weeks to adjust to the idea, but making space in your life for a little one seems so natural and we started enjoying it.

When we went for a routine scan last Monday, though, our plans abruptly stopped. The heartbeat that had been there the week before was no longer there. The silence was deafening - and the longer it went on, the more I wanted it to stop. We were told that we had lost the baby, it had died in the womb a few days before. I had suffered what is commonly called a "silent" or missed miscarriage - one when the baby dies, but the body does not expel it.

Miscarriages are so very common, 1 in 5 pregnancies ends like that. Yet no one ever seems to talk about them. Women are encouraged to keep their pregnancies quiet until after the 12 week mark, when miscarriage rates reduce dramatically and don't often talk about a pregnancy loss. Miscarriage is taboo, yet so very common and so very sad. And it seems, so very isolating too.

Why the silence? It is now widely accepted that it's a chance event, not caused by something that the mother did or didn't do (with a few exceptions like smoking and excessive alcohol consumption... and maybe bungee jumping). It is also a time when a woman needs support, instead of having to lie to those around her, pretending all is fine.

Well, I resent this silence and I break it. As we try and get back to normal I want to acknowledge what has happened to us, not fishing for sympathy but merely wanting to share this. To let anyone out there who has been through this, or will go through this, that yes, it is a sad time, yes, it is the end of a life and a dream. But it is only a hurdle on the way. My life goes on, and as with other difficulties, I will get stronger.

I don't feel stronger yet. Partly because physically I am in a bad way. A combination of blood loss and GA, as well as my body adjusting after a pregnancy, I have been very tired and with a very low blood pressure of 90/50. I am eating and drinking well in an effort to bring my blood volume up again.

So... can't quite resume training yet. But, believe me, I will be back to training and I will plan some races for this summer. And maybe I will traing for the Athens Marathon in November - and run it in memory of what wasn't to be.

A year on

I have had an enforced break from training lately. Having been sick on and off for the last 6 weeks has been frustrating, more than anything, but has given me time to do other things, which was not bad.
It hasn't been a complete break - I have had a few runs with the dogs (including one in a howling storm), I have run with the cross country class at school (hardly an endurance run, but loads of fun nonetheless) and have had some long walks on the mountain. No cycling though (weather has been miserable too!) or swimming.
This break from training aside, D and I had our first holiday pretty much since last year. It felt like a real break, we had a great time and absolutely fell in love with Rome. We were only there for 2 days, but really took the city in, walked around, smelled, tasted and enjoyed Rome so much. It was my first city-break holiday (I am more of an active holiday person, as might have been made clear on this blog) but I would go again in a heartbeat!

Back in Athens I had a visit from J - we had such a lovely time, helped along by beautiful sunny weather - spring is finally here! J is getting ready for a Marathon, her first and has made an amazing commitment. It is an inspiration. As was my other friend, M, running her first 10k race (on pure guts it seemed, as much of her training had been sabotaged by illness)! All in all I was a very proud friend last weekend and didn't mind being support group one bit!

It has also been a year from that Saturday last spring when I lost my dad. I miss him every day, he is with me in everything I do, but the pain has softened a bit. I feel lucky I had such a dad and his life and death is an inspiration to me to live my life to the full. I am certain he would still be very proud of me.

The long and short of it...

The long and short of it is, I love running. I enjoy going out, on almost any weather, almost any time of day and almost any terrain and simply running. I enjoy running with D, running on my own, running with my dogs, running with hundreds of others. I enjoy running after swimming and biking and I enjoy running out the door. I love running with music, podcasts or just listening to the world around me.

But when it comes to it, I really like running with a purpose. Training for a racemakes me get out on a rainy (and windy) Friday after school, when all I want to do is curl on the sofa and watch TV. And so with that in mind, I have decided to finally take the plunge and train for a marathon. D has been training for the M. Alexandros marathon in April.

Here's the deal. It won't be fast and it most likely won't be pretty. I am not ready to train or race a marathon, but herein lies the challenge. I am also injured: as it transpired on my last long run last Sunday, my old back injury has left me with a weak vastus medialis, from a damaged nerve root, which means my right knee unstable. And, just to top it all off, I have been sick for the last week, so my ever-important long run, tomorrow, is in danger.

And so in my mind I have been trying to decide, might it be better to go short, but fast, or is long (and slow) the better option. Given my biomechanical limitations when running, as well as the time I have to train, short and fast is clearly the more sensible option. Training to get faster over 5 or even 10 km, a very valid goal and one I would definitely like to concentrate at some point in my running life, has a strong pull. But not as strong as running a marathon at this stage. And so, purely to tick the box and enjoy the experience, on 11th April, I will be completing a marathon, even if I have to walk some (most?) of it.

Hope to finish with a smile!

Dafni 10k, Jan 2011

Smiles, blood blisters and sunshine, Ag. Kosmas 10k, Nov. 2010

Finishing with a smile! (Note, number 3 again, the joys of having a "foreign" surname starting with a B!)

" Smile Like you Mean it!"

Here I am on my last (and one of the first for a while) cycling sessions last Sunday, listening to the Killers song and smiling to my heart's content.

As D is mainly concentrating on running this season, I have to do most of the cycling alone. It was a beautiful January morning, crisp but fairly warm, sunny and with very little wind (no gloves!!). Bliss!

It was, as I mentioned above, one of my first rides this season. I have started to, slowly, get back into training and planning some fun racing for this season. Next race, another 10k this Sunday, though due to a foot injury I have been off for around 3 weeks and just hoping to finish in one piece.

After that my longer term target is, for the second time, the Astroman 1/2 Iron Race. It's a race I did last year (and suffered a lot!) but this time I will hopefully have more than 5 weeks of training behind me and less heat and humidity on the day.

I am excited to be having a second stab at this race and look forward to the training. It is a hilly race - have a look at the photo and note the drop behind me. I better get some good riding in.

Other races I will hopefully do this year: a 20km (in preparation for Astroman) and if all goes well and I feel up to it (ie have not got injured) the Athens Classic Marathon in October/November (I wonder when the organisers will let us know...) Missed the 2,500 anniversary of the race, but will be very happy to race the 2,501st one!

2011 - The Year of Adventure

I am leaving 2010 behind with little regret - yes, it was a tough year, but I feel that I did everything I had to do. As years go it will stay in my mind forever as one of the toughest. Yet now, in retrospect, my thoughts naturally gravitate to the good moments, the sweet times and it seems like that bad stuff didn't happen to me - like it was just a bad dream.

So, starting the New Year with a rush of hop

e. I don't have resolutions, I rarely do (I tend to make my resolutions mid-year and as they come). But I do have things I want to achieve and

things I want to do, just for fun. D made me this piggy bank to put them all in - I won't be sharing them here (and bore you all to tears.)

And so the year started well, with a hike up Mt Parnitha, which we have now vowed to get to know better. For those of you not familiar with the geography of the peninsula of Attica, it is basically a triangle jutting out into the Aegean. The city of Athens is almost surrounded by mountain - Immitos (where we used to do our Monday night runs), Pendeli (we live on and run on daily with the dogs) and Parnitha. Parnitha is the tallest of the lot (at 1330 m, 14 meters less than Ben Nevis, the highest mountain on the British Isles.)

We headed out there on a foggy and chilly New Year's day, taking along

our three d

ogs and Tami, a young dog we have been looking after during this festive season. We were not

sure where we were going, although we had some GPS guidance, but we decided to walk to the nearest refuge, Bafi, by way of a path that seemed to follow the road (oh yes, this is a mountain refuge you can drive to... another one.)

Here is D leading the way on the path with (from the left, Spencer, Tami, Fifi and little Hardy.)

The refuge towering above. We could see there was a lit fire, so we hurried on up.

Not far to go!

Bread and bean soup in the refuge.

The view (a bit cloudy)

Just before we began the climb down - dogs still with plenty of energy!

Our little adventure was just the thing we needed on New Year's Day. To remind us that we need to get out, to enjoy Greece, for as long as we are here, and discover new places, new mountains and new trails!

Happy New Year to all!

'Tis the Season...

I am loving this holiday! I am really enjoying having some down time. It does feel like it is the first real holiday in over a year. This time last year my dad was around, but our Christmas was so bitter sweet and fraught with fears for what was to come, as well as the bitter realisation that it was our last Christmas with my dad.

This year I finally feel that I have emerged from a tunnel and I am enjoying life again. I have loved having the luxury of time to do all the things that I love: to write and read, to swim and run, to walk the dogs and chat with Duncan about nothing and everything. To cook and bake, to go for coffee with friends... Oh the luxury of time!

Things I have really enjoyed:

1. Having my morning coffee/tea brought to me in bed, and staying in said bed, reading and writing until I feel ready to get up (which is usually around 9.30)

2. Having some time to finally tidy up the house and sort out my study/spare room. It is currently housing a lovely dog we are looking after while her family are in the States, but once her box is gone, my study will be tidier and an even better space to work from.

3. Having time to write this blog, but also to start my other (work-related blog). Check it out here: http://educatingtheable.blogspot.com/

4. Earl Grey

5. Leisurely walks with the dogs, without worrying about daylight. Usually the dogs have to be walked/exercised after work, which makes a tight turn-around. At the moment we can walk them anytime... even in the middle of the day. Very pleased with that!

6. Seeing friends and people I have not seen/spoken to in ages.

7. Swimming during the daytime. Which, in essence, means not having to fight for a lane or a shower with 20 7year olds.

8. Catching up with essential (and "purely for enjoyment") reading.

9. Making some nice food.

10. Eating some nice food.

Hope you are all enjoying the festive season. From the B household: Happy Holidays!

Something to live by...

My new something-to-live-by is this: "You can do anything you want, but you cannot do everything." Simple and succinct, as truth usually is.

I blatantly stole the phrase from Karnazes' book 50/50 (http://www.ultramarathonman.com/but it spoke to me so loudly at the time when I read it and its relevance on my own life has been proven pretty much every day since.

Few of us have the luxury of time. I know that both D and I try to cram so much into our day that often other things suffer. In the last few months I repeatedly started the day with a to-do list of 10+ items, only to have achieved 5 by the end of it. The problem is, and it is obvious, we cannot do everything. There are only 24 hours in a day and, if like me you love your bed, 8 of those are spent in bed. And, if like me you have a full time job, the other 8 you are at work. I won't go into the mathematics of time management - I am sure there are people out there (yes, you with children, jobs and training for IM's) who are far better qualified to give you the low down on how to juggle. No, this post is about the realisation that oftentimes, less is more.

I had a long hard think about it and I did put down my priorities. When you write it down in black and white, it is so much clearer. And life is now less stressful. Occasionally, and to some, my existence might seem ascetic, but it is just the way I like it! I prefer to take the dogs out for a run, than to go out for coffee. I would rather spend my Saturday morning writing, than ironing. And if not drying my hair with a hair dryer gives me 20 mins more in the pool... easy choice!

New member of the family Hardy (remember the puppies from the mountain -she is the sole survivor!) enjoying a well-earned rest after her first ever run on the mountain with the big boys, pictured below.

Here we go again!

I have been reading Dean Karnazes' book 50/50, about him running 50 marathons in 50 days. Not the best written book, but all the same has some good info for first time runners and made very pleasant reading on the plane and while back in Greece. If nothing else

it has inspired me to put a race on the calendar.

I have been running consistently for the last several months, but mostly with dogs and just for fun. I have also been trying new footwear (the Vibram Five Fingers, more on that later) and have been trying to take it easy, not running more than 20 to 30 mins on them, to let my feet (and I guess rest of body) adapt. The other reason for the changes in my running is that I now run with the dogs every time I go for a run. As D is away and the dogs

still need to be exercised, every run I do, 3 or 4 times a week, the dogs come with me. That means I cannot always do what I want to do, intervals, hills, track etc, but I have to be flexible to the wishes (and needs) of my furry running companions. That, of course, includes several peeing breaks on the runs and plenty of time sniffing bushes. Oh... and picking up bits of dead sheep and carrying them for the duration of each run. A couple of weeks ago I found a scapula on the back of the car, courtesy of Spencer. Not to mention the vertebrae he now carries with him on each and every run.

Needless to say, planned and structured training has given way to a mo

re relaxed approach to running (though I still

use my stopwatch on every run!)

It has been good for me, I have been focusing on the pleasure of being out there, on the mountain, the companionship of running with dogs, the sensations underfoot (not always good, as my bruised feet will attest to) and a more mindful way of running.

However, and after reading Karnazes' book I decided it might be time to enter another race. To put another target on the calendar and start working towards it. At first I had the crazy thought of running a marathon (the original route) on my 30th birthday. Just go out the door and run from Marathon to Athens. Ok... maybe not just go out the door, it would take a but of planning and support. And although I still toy with the idea, especially as the 30th looms (1 month to go!) I realised that if I were to do it, I would probably end up injured and out for the season. So, as a wiser, less impulsive, soon-to-be 30 year old runner I decided to enter a 10k. Target time? N

ot sure. But I know that I will go out and enjoy it! It will also be two days after D gets back, so it will be a nice way to celebrate his coming home.

It is not the only race I will be doing this winter. I have also been training for a 4.5km open water swim on 5th December. I had not been in the pool for a while, but I needed a reason to get back in and focus on something... and here it is. Hope it doesn't get to

o cold between now and then and the water temp remains reasonable - as much as I enjoy hardship, 4.5 km is a long way to be freezing for.

Fifi and I on the mountain this morning. Ran 7.5 km and we both felt it by the end! Spencer, younger and fitter, was still full of energy at the end of it.

More thoughts on dogs

It's been a good couple of weeks. Last time I wrote, I concentrated on the joys of having dogs in my life. Well, here is a list of the not so positives:

1. I will never get a line-in again. Spencer thinks 6.30 is a good time to get up even on weekends. Hmm...

2. I will never have a clean house. Even 10 mins after cleaning the floors, the usual piles of black hair and occasional slobber spots appear.

3. I will never be able to go on holiday/go running/go to the beach etc without the dogs, without intense pangs of guilt. Especially when they start crying as I drive/run/walk away.

4. I will never own a house with white furniture.

5. I will occasionally have to clean up what seems like tons of feathers from the back garden after the dogs have "attacked" and "killed" the pillow they were meant to be sleeping on.

6. I will never be able to pass another stray dog on the road, without feeling sad.

Still... wouldn't change them for the world!

We went running again this evening on the mountain. The dogs have learned to run next to each other and really enjoy the freedom of the mountain. As do I, of course.

"My goal in life...

...is to be as good a person as my dog already thinks I am." quote by Unknown.

The biggest blessing from our new life in Greece has certainly been our dogs. It has been a big life change, a great challenge and continues to be one of the biggest sources of pleasure, every single day.

It is strange how D and I have now ended up with 3 dogs (and if all goes to plan there will be another one added to the bunch soon).

A few weeks after my dad died D and I had gone mtb riding on the mountain with a friend. On the way back D found Spencer (and his littermates). Spencer came home two days later and has become a course of joy, pleasure and occasionally frustration ever since.

He has grown to be a beautiful dog, kind and thoughtful, maybe a bit of a mummy's boy - he follows me around the house all the time and his favourite activity is lying on my while we watch TV, as well as running on the mountain. I cannot imagine my life without him now.

What we hadn't quite planned on was the other two dogs that have come into our lives. Fifi was my dad's dog. My dad saved him from a life on the streets about 5 years ago and he has also grown to be a big and strong dog. He had been missing my dad's company and ever since we moved into my family house last June he has been a much happier dog. Spencer's company has proven quite a tonic - Fifi turns into a small puppy whenever he is around Spencer. He loves walks on the mountain; he really is a mountain dog. He is big, yet I am sure perceives himself to be a puppy still - he has a tendency to try and jump into your lap, all 50 kg of him!

On top of that we also inherited my mum's dog, Rhoda. She was found, when she was a tiny pup, small enough to sleep in my brother's shoe, behind the wheel (rhoda, in Greek) of a bus. My mum took her and gave her a home. Rhoda is a very insecure dog and was never socialised, yet she is coping just fine with the addition of the other two dogs into her territory. She is a very nervous dog who will happily forgo food in favour of a cuddle.

As if three dogs were not enough, two weeks ago and while running up on the mountain with the two boy dogs, Fifi went crazy. He ran down a steep ravine and would not come back up. D followed him down there (despite my worried cries) and found a bag of 6 puppies. Someone had thrown the bag over the side of the mountain, no doubt hoping that they would die. Two of them had, unfortunately, been killed by the impact but the other four were still alive and crying out for help. D picked them up in the bag, which stank of decomposing flesh, and we took them back to the car. We drove home trying not to be sick, while the little tykes wriggled around by my feet.

The four pups were tiny, stank of death and were obviously very hungry and cold. We called the vet for advice and she suggested that the only option we had, seeing as they were less than a week old, was to put them to sleep. Of course D would not hear of it. We called again after a while, asking for practical advice, what should they eat, how much, can we wash them (the stink was sickening) etc. After a wash and a feed with syringes left from when my dad was still at home, they settled into a deep sleep in their basket, cuddling a hot water bottle and each other.r. Not for a moment did we think we had any other choice.

That night we drove out trying to find a late night pharmacy and bought bottles and dummies. The next day D bought formula and we took turns feeding them every four hours (though, truth be told most of the hard work was done by D who did not have to go to school the next day.) The next couple of days went by and a bit of a daze, as the pups took pretty much most of our time and energy. They would sleep for 3 or 4 hours, then wake up, demanding milk. They were totally reliant, even needing 'manual stimulation' in order to pee and poo. It was becoming obvious that in two days, when D would leave, I would not be able to look after them, as I would be at work for 9 hours every day. We were not sure what to do...

After asking for advice at school and asking colleagues and parents about what to do, we were coming to the difficult decision that we could not look after them and we would have to put them to sleep, otherwise they would starve to death. D could not take them with him to SA, I could not possibly take them to work to feed them several times a day, no shelter would take them as they were too young and we could not think of anyone who could undertake such a full time project. Thursday night was sad, as we contemplated taking them to the vet on Saturday morning.

Enter a friend, who came to our house to pick up my bike. She saw the little pups, then listened to the story. "There is no way you should put them down" she said and she proceeded to think about possible homes for them. Half an hour later we had a possible "foster home." A dear friend of hers had agreed to take the pups for a few weeks, until they would be a bit bigger and ready to be rehomed. The sense of relief was overwhelming and I spent the next day hoping and praying that K would not change her mind.

The puppies have now opened their eyes. They are happy and healthy. They are still being bottle fed, are able to walk and (apparently) are making more noise than ever! Unfortunately the runt of the litter (the small brown one from the pic above) did not make it and died couple of days ago. Still, she died in better conditions than in a bag on the mountain.

We are most likely keeping one of the little tykes, and we seem to have found homes for the other two as well.

I never thought I would be so happy to have some many dogs in my life, but as Ben Williams (?) said: "There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face."

On Silence

I have been enjoying the silence this week. D is away, he will be in SA for a couple of months, doing his practical training as part of his postgraduate course. I had been dreading the time, not having been alone for a very long time.

It has been such a surprise, loving this silence. I have enjoyed getting home to a quiet house, especially after the constant noise of the primary classroom. I have enjoyed doing little, reading on the sofa, going to bed early, waking up even earlier. So much so that it got me thinking: Am I the sort of person who is better alone?

The truth is it has been an enlightening period, yet D is still with me even when he is not. I sleep in his shirt at night, as I find his smell comforting. I still, even after a week, wake up in the night thinking he is close to me. I feel his love every time I take the compost out - he has put little stepping stones on the earth so that I can walk to the compost bin without getting muddy feet.

I am enjoying my time of silence, yet at the same time feel so lucky that I have someone to share my life with. Life is so much more fulfilling when you share it. As for training, it is no fun on my own (especially the swimming!) Can't wait for D to get back.

Balance

I've been on a see-saw lately. Like a toddler, unstable, yet gripping on tight, while on the other side a load of weight has been piled on. Out of my control. The good news is: I am still on!

I feel like I am back to being balanced, after a month of uncertainty about the future, about where we want to be, where we need to be, what we want to do and what we need to do. Decisions have been made and both Duncan and I seem to be re-adjusting to the new reality, taking it into our stride and starting to enjoy it.

Any of you who follow will know that I was due to race my first IM distance race this August in Copenhagen. Most of you also know that I didn't. It was a decision not taken lightly, but I had to take into account so many different things that it did take a while to take. For both health and financial reasons both Duncan and I decided it was not wise (not to say it was not possible) to pursue it and so we both withdrew with a week to go.

Do I regret it? No.
Do I wish it could have been different? Oh yes!

But for the last year or so life has been such a challenge, getting out of bed, paying the bills, holding it together alone has taken all this effort, that training and racing has been a luxury we just could not afford.

The problem with when you strike a balance is that it always feels so fragile. It is teetering on the edge of tipping and, more often than not, you have little control over which way it's going to go.

I am striving to stay sane, but I am making no promises....

Looking from the outside in

I have been away. On holiday, I say to friends and family, but most look at me like I am crazy. On holiday? In England? What kind of crazy are you? No beaches, no bars, no sunshine...

But yes, this is part holiday, part retreat. It is where I have come to relax. To not deal with the phone bills, the tax office, the long list of things that need doing in the house and everybody else's needs. To be able to sleep and eat and run and write where and when I want.

I have enjoyed the cool green vastness of the English countryside, the subtlety of the English sunshine. The polite greeting of the cashier at the supermarket, the orderly rows of houses. I have enjoyed being cold enough to wear a jumper during the day. I have loved walking everywhere. And I have absolutely relished having 24 hours every day to do what I want.

Selfish, I know, and oh so indulgent!

When you're IN a problematic situation, whatever that situation might be, it is very hard to see out of it. Very hard to find a solution to it, to even think that you can come out of it. Greece (not just the country, but my own personal situation too) has trapped me, not physically, but trapped my thinking. I have been thinking so narrowly, looking for solution in front of me, yet not around me. This trip has changed this, my perspective has become more global again and my problems have become solvable again. I am looking from the outside in.

This trip has shown me the possibilities. Yet vast choice does not make us happy, and that too has become apparent. D and I have been talking about our future and we both feel powerful again. It feels like we have been through so much the last couple of years, yet we have also taken some very brave steps towards change.

And yes, it has left us in an unenviable situation of having no savings and sharing a house with my mother, but all with the goal of making big changes. We have taken risks that others don't, we have left behind a life we did not feel fullfilled us to build a life with more time for each other, more meaning in our employment, our engagement, more quality, less quantity.

Transitions are hard and we have been feeling that. We might be foolish in our outlook, only time wil tell, but we are brave. Most of the time.

The prize of failure

"Behind every difficulty there is its prize:

success and satisfaction.

Even failure has its prize:

wisdom.

From the one who's on his way out,

To the one on her way in."

My dad wrote this to me, on the cover of a book he sent me after I moved to England in '96. I was only 15 and I honestly did not remember these words until I found the book again, with the recent move. I did not remember them, yet I have lived every day of my life by them. He is with me in everything I do, in my spirit, in my values, in my way of thinking.

I have felt like I have been letting him down lately. I have felt very low and every day, robbed of pleasures, has become a struggle. The pact I made with myself (and Duncan) when my dad died, to live every day to the full, to take "fishing days", sounds hollow now. Yesterday I had trouble getting out of bed or getting motivated to perform even small tasks like eating. That was yesterday...

Today I am back. I am refocusing. I am drawing up new goals, or looking again at the old ones in a new light. As in a race, when something goes wrong, but also in training and in life, to refocus is to start afresh. To not worry about what has been but to ask of yourself: "How can I best go forward from now on?". Here is an interesting article on it from the Podium Sports Journal. http://www.podiumsportsjournal.com/2007/09/29/refocusing-during-sport-down-time/ It is more about refocusing on the spot, during competition, but it should be clear how it transfers to other down-time too.

I am doing this, as of now. I am concentrating on good quality workouts to get me back on track, eating well (which seems to be much easier in the summer - is it the abundance of fresh produce, or is it the abundance of time to prepare healthy meals?), revisiting Pilates systematically, spending a little less time on miles and a little more on balance, technique, stability. And trying to start enjoying it again. Finding new trails for running, catching up with old episodes of my favourite series on the trainer, listening to IMtalk (www.imtalk.me) and getting out on the mountain bike are all helping me keep it fun.

Behind each difficulty there is a prize, even if it's just the knowledge that you have the skills to overcome difficulties, refocus and go on.

The luxury of sport

The journey is long. Longer than I thought. And full of potholes! And it feels like I lost my map quite a while ago.

I haven't written in a while. Life has got in the way. It feels like a struggle at the moment and I am sad to say there is little enjoyment in our everyday tasks. I don't know if it is a delayed reaction to our loss, as a family, though every day that goes past it feels like the gap my dad left is getting bigger, not smaller. Or maybe just tiredness, after a very long, very difficult year. Either way I have been feeling deflated and just so so tired.

We have had to move out of our lovely little house and into my family home. It was a decision made mainly for financial reasons and it has been harder than any of us thought. Physically, emotionally and financially it has taken a huge toll and we are at the end of our third week of moving, with a lot of our stuff still in boxes, having to make some decisions. Our IM training has taken a huge hit - we have done no structured training since racing 3 and bit weeks ago. We have to decide whether racing in Copenhagen is prudent, or in fact even possible.

I was reading a very old issue of Inside magazine the other day, an interview with Dean Karnazes (if you don't know who Karnazes is, he is worth a google!) This is what he says:

Western culture has things a little backwards right now. We think that if we had every comfort available to us, we'd be happy. We equate comfort with happiness. And now we're so comfortable we're miserable. There's no struggle in our lives. No sense of adventure. We get in a car, we get in an elevator, it all comes easy. What I've found is that I'm never more alive than when I'm pushing and I'm in pain, and I'm struggling for high achievement, and in that struggle I think there's a magic. (for the full interview http://outside.away.com/outside/features/200701/dean-karnazes-interview-1.html)

It definitely struck a chord with me. It gave me insight into why I do endurance sport... but also into the huge cultural differences there are between Greece and Western culture, namely what I know of Western culture, the UK. OK, it also gave me an excuse, a way out, a reason for my inability to concentrate on training or anything tri related.

Sport, especially endurance sport with its pain and suffering, is a luxury. A luxury for when your every day life is not a struggle. I am not under the illusion that everyone who does endurance sport leads perfect lives, but in the last three weeks it has felt like both D and I have expended massive amounts of energy to get through every day that we had none to throw into our training.

When we moved from London it took us 20 minutes to cancel our bills, on the phone and online. Here in Greece it took me several days of queueing, arguing, submitting useless sheets of paper and a little bit of begging. In London I did the weekly shop in the half hour it took me to log into Sainsbury's online and choose the products I wanted delivered to my house. In Greece it takes me several hours a week, dealing with unsmiling cashiers and having to fight my way to vegetable weighing as no one knows how to queue I know... hardly a tragedy - there are people in the world who don't have the luxury of the super market or indeed have very little food. It sounds so petty when I type it, but nothing is easy here. And it seems that the little things have been accumulating. They have been eating away at our energy, to leave us empty, bitter and deflated. (It was helpfully all topped up when our new neighbour, who got annoyed with us asking him not to throw his rubble in our skip and stuck four nails, one on each of our tyres for fun. Welcome to the neighbourhood!)

We have been trying to refocus. To look at the positives. We are getting back into a routine that will allow us to train, play and have fun. We love triathlon and, most of the time, it relieves the problems of our every day life. So we are plotting our return...