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Run with "Antonio"

October 22, 2018 (Afternoon)

Exercise Type: Run

Comments:
Okay, so Antonio is not actually a Bosnian name and "Stijena Potok Park" means "Rock Creek Park" in Bosnian (likewise "Zapadni Avenija" = Western Avenue and "Mudar Put" = Wise Road). I got back to the US Thursday night, and the ridiculous running log entry I posted Friday about being chased by wolves and saved by an old babushka magician lady actually took place on my run to the airport the previous day. Yes, that's right, I ran to an airport for an international flight because, well, why not? I'm going back to Bosnia in two weeks, and I have all the clothes I need in DC, so all I really needed to bring home was my laptop and a change of clothes for the plane. Also, everyone was telling me I needed to leave REALLY early if I was taking tram or city bus to the airport because they might be stuck in traffic or break down so I thought to myself, "screw that, I don't wanna wake up before the sun, it's only 10 km, I'll just run." It was actually a bit longer than that, but only because I saw this park I really wanted to explore which turned out to be where I almost got eaten by dogs. The werewolf-dog-monsters did not, in the end, eat me (though Anthony's dog would later attempt a similar feat) and I managed to get reach the airport with about 7 minutes to spare... waaaaaay to close. Don't do this. But if you do ever decide to run to an airport, and you're planning to "shower" in the sink of a public bathroom, I highly recommend finding a handicapped bathroom with only one stall so that you can lock to door, rather than attempting to monopolize a multi-stall men's room for up to 10 minutes while you attempt to jam the door shut with a running shoe. In any case, I made it safely (and clearly) onto my flight and by nightfall, I found myself back in a land of fast internet connections, beds with top as well as bottom sheets, small businesses that accept credit cards, non-gelato ice cream, bike lanes, a strange custom of switching your fork back to your right hand after putting down your knife, and a bunch of the most enthusiastic lovable cross country runners on the planet.

(Bosnia is definitely not a developing country, certainly not compared to anywhere in Latin America or Africa, but there are still some conveniences that as an American I find myself missing. Oh, and recycling. They should really get on that).

Upon getting off the plane at Dulles, I quite naturally wanted to check my facebook messages. This turned out to be a grave mistake. A certain runner who shall remain nameless but who may or may not have the last name of a certain history teacher and a first name that rhymes with "banana" noticed that a message she had sent me on facebook now appeared labeled "Read" and that it was currently 3:30 am in Bosnia, leading her to conclude that I was now back in the US. GDS runners, it seems, would make excellent detectives. I did my best to insist I was still in Bosnia but soon another runner (also anonymous, but whose first name may or may not be only 3 letters) was also conducting a thorough investigation into my whereabouts. I felt like I was once again being chased down a mountain by werewolves. Very smart werewolves, in fact.

Friday morning (I'm just writing about it here so you don't have to go back and read my previous entries), I went for a run with Jabob Gaba, who I was going to refer to in this log as Ya'acov or Jakobo except that it seemed too obvious. He managed to keep my appearance a secret, a marked improvement his inability to do so last year. The hills of Rock Creek park felt easy compared to Sarajevo, and the autumn woods were simply lovely. We keep a pretty reasonable pace and talked mostly about running in college and various recent grads. I then hopped in a car and drove 6 hours to North Carolina with one of my college teammates (Ben) for a wedding. The bride, Julia, was not herself a former teammate but rather a hard-core cross-country groupie. At Williams our team had a dance every year where we were each assigned a buddy for whom we had to get a date, and Julia had emailed both me and Ben to ask "could you one of you please ask me as the other guy's date, I don't care which, I just really wanna hang out with the cross country team!" Needless to say, this is the kinda person who I am likely to still be close friends with 10 years later, even if I only get to see her once every few years. After the rehearsal dinner and bonfire with smores (thank you Ilana or whomever it was that taught me back in August how to roast marshmallows just right), Ben and I both woke up sick Saturday morning and spent several hours searching and waiting for a walk-in clinic that could tell us whether we had strep throat, the flu, or just a mild cold, no doubt due to the 11 hours I'd spent breathing recycles air in a plane coming back from Bosnia (or in his case, 8 hours coming back from Senegal). We took the day off from running but made up for it with about four hours of spectacular dance moves at the wedding reception. One of Julia's uncles, a southern gentleman in his 70s, came up to me at once point and said, "Young man, you can really boogie." Need I say more? I'm counting my dance moves as equivalent to at least 5 miles of tempo.

Sunday's run I already logged, and though I lied about the location, the rest is accurate, including the angry wolf with LED around its neck. This morning I ran with Anthony (Antonio) on the Chevy Chase Country Club golf course, which is one of my favorite illegal places to run, and I got myself a full update on the team. Afterward, we planned out the Matt-in-a-box surprise appearance at Derwood that afternoon. Most of you who are reading this witnessed it, but if not, you can email me and ask about it. Then I got an additional 3 miles jogging the MAC/ISL course with the team. Honestly, I couldn't have told you even at the time how my body felt on that run. I'd felt really sore yesterday and squatting in a cardboard box for 15 minutes while I waited for Anthony to reach the agreed-up punchline in his speech didn't do my calves any favors. Yet I was so excited to be running again with all of you and catching up with everyone that it was like walking (or running) on air - my legs didn't even get a word in edgewise.