I (Am)Sterdam

Single girls goes on vacation. A delay at Ohare forced me to miss my connection in JFK which would ultimately get me to Africa.

The Delta gate person was incredibly friendly and accommodating. I didn't really have a choice because they had already taken my bag from me. She was kind enough to reserve me a sleeper seat on another flight that would could connect to Africa. Then I was informed I'd be flying to Amsterdam first.

I spent 8 hours waiting at Ohare for my flight to depart. Another 6 hours en route to Amsterdam and I now have a 7 hour layover here. With the recent "suspicious package" discovery I'm going to play it safe and stay in the airport.

It's 2 a.m. Chicago time and I'm wishing there was a bed nearby. I'll do my best to stay up as long as possible and make it through to Ghana. A not so pleasant reaction to malaria medication had me close to tossing my cookies on the plane. The next flight should be less nauseating!

No dating stories wrapped up in the post, folks. Although I suppose I haven't done any alone international travel in two years, since my trip to Japan. I'm traveling alone again as a true single girl. I'm totally wingin' my travels and single girl has no problems making a little stop off in good ol' Amsterdam.

Here's to long layovers and people watching. Sometimes we're delayed in life, sometimes we're re-routed. But more often than not, we make it there.

Safe travels.

SG

On Any Given Sunday

On any given Sunday you can find me waking up around 8 a.m., making a pot of coffee, and eating greek yogurt and an egg (inspired by my sister). And on a Sunday afternoon I'm wandering the aisles of the South Loop TARGET looking for inexpensive ways to give my entire apartment a face lift.

This Sunday was different.

Sunday morning I rose with the sun, walked Bernard, and came back indoors to layer black running pants, and a green tank top. I strapped on an elastic belt lined with Gu and a race bib and clipped on my pink ipod. Ready to run.

This Sunday I ran the Chicago Marathon. It wasn't my first time, my third in fact. But this year felt completely different from previous years.

I ran for miles. I ran for hours (five and a half to be exact) and by the time I hit mile 25 I was depleted. I was on the verge of tears and I just wanted someone to hug me and tell me not to cry.

Mile 25.5 came around and the Cranberries, "Dream" came on my ipod. You're probably flashing back to Dawson's Creek. Stay with me.

Take a moment to find the song in your head or on your ipod if you have it.

Picture yourself running through the city of Chicago. Over 28 neighborhoods.
Tired.
Hopeless.
Hot.

Sun blazing.
Miles blurred.
You reach for hands who give you food, water.
Ice chips across your face and arms.
You're struggling to get to the other side.

And then just shy of mile 26 you see a familiar face.
Someone who is struggling just as much as you.
You help them.
They help you.
And you cross the finish line.
Fighting the tears.
Enjoying the moment because it comes so infrequently.

You cross the finish line proud and hopeful.
Strong.
Solid.

In life, we may not all decide to strap on a pair of New Balance and hit the pavement for 5+ hours.
But we all run marathons.
We all face obstacles that challenge how grounded we are.
They look us in the eye and ask us if we're strong enough.

The thing is, deep down you are.
You were always strong enough to get through it.
You always will be.

26.2 or whatever your marathon may be.

-SG