You Say Dubai Part IV: Return to Dubai

Monday, February 23^rd, 2004:  Mark and I made it back to Dubai early evening and departed for Dubai Creek with Samia around 7:30PM, arriving at “Al Boom’s Tourist Village” around 8PM.  I find it very amusing to drive with Mark & Samia as they constantly trade opinions on the optimal route, while rarely agreeing.  In a traffic-jammed environment the quickest path is not necessarily a straight line and the particular time of day plays heavily into the navigation.  A key emphasis is avoiding nasty rotaries, and they have some lulu’s here --- we’ve endured several that have three lanes!  Funny thing is that I can picture Kim & myself in their shoes with identical results.  Driving is truly not for the light-hearted in the UAE.

We rendezvoused with Florian, another AUS architecture professor hailing from Germany, and Peter, the visiting architecture professor from Berlin who was escorting 20 female students on a field trip (the entire evening had been predicated upon taking the girls out for dinner…but they were apparently too pooped from daytime activities to join us).  Chatted w/Peter some and it was enjoyed, though I struggled to find common ground despite his excellent English and time in the States.  Florian was a card – alas, we were at opposite ends of the table, but I admired his quick wit and am certain I would enjoy getting to know him better.

On to the accommodations.  We were on an enormous, three-story dhow crammed with dinner tables.  Our table was aft on the top deck, which was excellent, since we were open air and the weather was delightfully cool.  Small plates of numerous appetizers were already laid out when we were seated.  A new experience for me was enjoying a sprig of mint by plucking the leaves and dipping them in hummus and subsequently chomping down the stem.  What an amazing appetizer!  Samia left me swig her lime juice drink which was exceptionally tasty….but I’m certain way too caloric for this diabetic!

Dinner on Dubai Creek:  Florian, Shahwali & Peter on left;  Samia & Vance on right – lime juice is the green stuff



About 8:30PM the dhow kicked off & headed down towards the gulf.  Mark was kind enough to point out some sights for me (e.g., the Dubai Golf Course clubhouse, a phenomenal structure), though it eventually digressed into the architects debating whether or not certain buildings meshed with the art & culture of Dubai.  I have learned from Mark how intimately the functional aspects of architecture are intertwined with artistic concerns, and while he has provided me with numerous examples of how he has personally dovetailed these concerns --- it wasn’t until my peep show of a gang of architects that I could appreciate the degree to which this is stressed.

About midway into our cruise they placed a huge rack on our table, which contained calamari, lobster, chicken tikka, kebabs, etc. and we feasted mightily.  An amusing sidebar is that when they eventually returned to inquire whether we wanted a refill of anything, Samia asked for more calamari and got met with a blank stare…until she re-phrased the request for “more squid, please” --- and was then greeted with a smile and a quick re-stocking!

When the journey ended, Florian coughed up the 420 Dirhams (about $100-US) that we had rung up (they didn’t accept credit cards and we were cash poor, but Samia had accurately predicted Florian could cover us!).  Geez, what a bargain.  We returned to the homestead circa 11:30PM and everyone went to bed except for Mark & I --- we played two rounds of Spite & Malice until 2AM.

Spite & Malice is a card game Mark & I have played across twenty years for bragging rights to various exotic spots we have visited together.  Whoever wins the most matches in any location is the ruler of that realm.

On the Road Again

August 6^th, 2010:  My heart monitor is proving to be an admirable educator.  I will certainly use it when running the half marathon because it allows you to maintain a steady pace.  Unfortunately, attempts to equate my pulse with miles per minute hasn’t worked out.  During my first forty minute run this week I paced out for a 148 heart rate.  The 7:55 pace I achieved earlier resulted from a pulse of 150, so I was disappointed in registering a 9:30 pace!

August 13^th, 2010:  Heat was the element I didn’t factor in.  I usually disembark for my runs around 5PM and it can still be quite toasty here in North Carolina.  The 9:30 pace was on accomplished on a torrid afternoon, but the next run was on a cloudy day and a few degrees cooler.  This time I maintained a 150 pulse and ran at a 8:30 pace.  It was kind of funky how I realized I was running faster than last time, despite the similar heart rate.  Most telling was how I was consciously slowing down last time to keep my pulse on target – in cooler weather I could maintain a consistent pace without escalating my heart rate, the lesson being that heat carries a cumulative burden.

August 15^th, 2010:  The training program mandates three runs each week with the longest falling on Sunday.  This past Sunday I did five miles at an 8:40 pace.  I am definitely running harder than I have in years (how the heck did I ever run 6:30 miles?) and enthused by the effort.  Tomorrow is six miles and I am psyched for the run.  Can I keep extending the mileage and maintain the pace?  That is the current goal and I really haven’t challenged myself like for this in eons.  I begin to set my sights on completing the half marathon in less than two hours and that goal rests on whether or not I can persist as the runs stretch out.

Really am pleased with reading about how to train for the event because I would have completed the run at a much slower pace under my original regimen.  The slight regret is that I would be running across Snow’s Cut Bridge by now under the original game plan (but VERY slowly, lol).

Shortly after this encouraging session, karma weighed in.  Years ago I worked for a travel club and yesterday the owner left a cryptic phone message wondering if I was “planning any exotic adventures”?  Called back today and was tickled to learn they had just partnered with a ‘travel’ medical insurance provider.  Mike knew my penchant for rigorous adventures and was looking to kick the tires on the travel insurance service.  Boy did I have a story for him!  The result was that they secured a year’s membership for me with their new partner.  Although the coverage expires before Le Grand Raid, I am not one to defy serendipity – will just need to schedule a rigorous hike somewhere and see whether the service is seeking a testimonial that might further my fundraising efforts.

You Say Dubai Part III: Dhow and Out

Monday, February 23^rd, 2004:  Jet lag is not an issue.  Slept all the way through the night and didn’t awake feeling groggy.  Went down for breakfast and began to realize that buffets are big in the Middle East.  Mark and I gabbed throughout the meal and it is an incomparable pleasure to exchange thoughts and ideas with an old friend possessing an agile mind.

Soon we head down to the dock and board our dhow, but right now it is utter peace.  I’m sitting on the porch viewing surf and mountains.  The water is amazingly clear & calm, enabling me to witness countless white/silver flashes as members of some large school of fish skim the surface of the Gulf.  The sole audio is the faraway thrum of boat engines, apparently off to harvest fish.

And speaking of boats, I forgot to mention last night’s incident.  When Mark and I were enjoying our porch and its view of the Persian Gulf, we suddenly heard/saw eight power boats rocketing full tilt out of Khasab and into open sea.  Who would be heading out to open waters at dusk???  Certainly not fishermen, and the watercraft didn’t appear to be leisure vehicles (only one person per boat).  Need to remember and ask one of the locals about this today!

An amazing cruise on the dhow.  The water is exceptionally clear and we can see fish swimming well below us.  We are navigating fjords and are surrounded by endless mountains of pure rock (and I mean 360 degrees).  Mark and I only signed up for a half day and the sole other party sharing our excursion is a French family of six – husband and wife, son, daughter + grandparents.  The husband is apparently with the French military and stationed in Abu Dhabi.  They bought a full day, so a speedboat is supposed to arrive at Telegraph Island around 1PM to delete Mark and myself.

Our boat driver is Mohammed Kuzmar – the same guy who escorted Mark & Samia two weeks prior when they ventured down for their first visit to Musandam.  He speaks Arabic, French & English and I am truly impressed.  Mohammed gave me the lowdown on the speedboats from last night.  Apparently Khasab gets daily visits from Iranians who load up on cigarettes.  They hang out all day and depart at dusk to make the two hour return across the Strait of Hormuz, benefiting from nightfall to elude the Iranian coast guard as they smuggle nicotine back to their homeland!  Mohammed tells me this is a substantial part of Khasab’s economy.

Cool images à flying fish, apparently disrupted by our bow, leap out of the water and literally flap their ‘wings’ to gain air for perhaps 10-to-20 feet…utterly delightful.

Beautiful water and rock of Musandam

Mohammed just waved a boat over and the fisherman presented us with a barracuda, which the French husband gladly accepted and started cutting up for bait…up until this visit he had been using an apple!

We have passed two villages that are only accessible by boat.  The first, Nadifi, has a population of about 100 and consists of four families (all this info provided graciously by Mohammed).  Children are boated to Khasab daily for school and a “grocery boat” delivers food each morning.  The village is deserted in summer (everyone relocates to Khasab) and the sole occupation is fishing. It is amusing to witness the occasional pile of fishing gear piled on an isolated rock outcropping…guess theft is not a concern here.  An amazing footnote is that you can see the power lines (using the standard wooden poles we’re familiar with in the US) traversing the rugged mountain landscape down to this remote speck of humanity.  Appears they have both electric and phone.

Nadifi, Oman - no road access, but note the telephone poles!

Another amusing incident was when the French mother availed herself of the tea/coffee station Mohammed set up for us on the deck (it is beneath the blue tablecloth in the photo below).  She was having some difficulty and Mohammed readily abandoned the rudder to assist her.  Mohammed was in absolutely no rush and completely focused upon serving tea…while our dhow drifted aimlessly.  The French husband eventually grabbed the rudder to straighten us out.  Mohammed noticed this action, smiled, and gestured for the father to pull the rudder into his chest and get us back on course…”no problem”  (a phrase Mohammed uttered several times, reminding me very much of Jamaica).

I was just glad her drink wasn’t served “on the rocks”…

Vance and Mohammed on Dhow – notice Mohammed is steering with his foot! (the tea station is on that small table covered by the blue tablecloth)

The grandest part of the boat ride occurred as we approached Telegraph Island and several dolphins accompanied us.  They seemed to delight in riding the boat’s wake, and would accelerate up one side, breach, dive beneath our craft and surface on the opposite side to repeat.  Mohammed really cranked the dhow up to encourage our bottle-nosed friends (dhows are constructed pretty much as centuries ago…except now they have engines) and I sure he was amused as the entire group scurried back and forth across the deck after each dive.

One of the marvelous dhow-skirting dolphins near Telegraph Island

After rounding many bends, docking at Telegraph Island would be the fascinating conclusion for our expedition.  The British built a small fort here in the 1860’s to garrison a handful of troops tasked with guarding an underwater telegraph line.  Faced with utter calm the soldiers routinely went crazy and this wee island is the derivation of the phrase “going round the bend”.  Stumbling upon such nuggets as this nurtured my love for travel.

Mark on our dhow, docked at Telegraph Island in Musandam

Mark had packed along snorkel gear and we took a plunge, witnessing an impressive fish collection.  Only down side was that I went barefoot as my feet were too big to slip into Samia’s flippers!  Shortly after our snorkel the speedboat scooped us up spirited us back to Khasab, concluding a remarkable visit to a unique natural wonder.

On the way back home, Mark was on his cell phone to Samia (and sheesh, during my brief tenure here, the cell phone seems to be permanently attached to everyone’s ear) and she had arranged dinner on a dhow cruising Dubai Creek to entertain a visiting professor from Berlin. Dubai Creek is a significant attraction of the city, dividing the city between Bur Dubai and Deira.  Many souks and cultural attractions lie along this waterway, which is delightfully cluttered with working dhows and ‘abrahs’…or water taxis, which transport folks across the creek.  This struck me as an exceptional conclusion to the day - to be snorkeling in such a remote destination as Musandam at lunchtime and then plying the waters in a city of one million that evening….WOW!

In For the Long Haul

July 4^th, 2010:  The swan song of my personal training program was an 8.5 mile jog last Sunday, which again was completed slowly but without too much fuss.  However, I picked up a book on training for marathons and will abdicate my personal program for the wisdom of those with experience.

So I continue plodding away, roughly adhering to the tenets of my training guide.  Not only am I being sure to get three runs in each week, I pay attention to pace.  A bit disappointing today as I held back to maintain a pulse around 142 (oh yeah, I actually went out and purchased a heart rate monitor) in the belief this would equal a ten minute per mile pace, but it worked out to a miserably slow eleven minutes.  After reveling in my previous rapid pace, this was a disappointment…but a useful learning curve as I gain appreciation for translating my heart rate in minutes per mile.

July 11^th, 2010:  Distances have been seriously ratcheted back since I am following my book’s program, but today’s trot was for thirty minutes and I aimed for a 150 pulse.  Phew, this had me breathing hard but I covered 3.8 miles at a 7:54 per mile pace.

Improving my pace strikes me as a single aspect of this challenge, which is spiraling into unforeseen opportunities (reinforcing why you should challenge yourself).  There is the physical aspect: I am seriously training for the first time in my life and learning quite a lot about preparing your body for long distance running.  There is the equally compelling travel aspect:  in addition to logging a ridiculous amount of miles on foot, there will be a foreign language to learn (I will study French, the closest thing to the Creole spoken on Reunion).

Perhaps the most relevant aspect, however, will be the attempt to raise funds:  beyond learning about training for long runs, learning French and learning about Reunion, I need to decipher how to establish a non-profit venture.  This last piece will also teach many lessons and I will strive to be the best “fund raider” ever!

You Say Dubai Part II: First Adventures in Arabia

Sunday, February 22^nd, 2004:  Mark got me up around 8:30AM for my first full day in unfamiliar environs and we consumed breakfast on their back porch to enjoy his garden.  It’s lovely to see the landscaper instinct is intact (we met during college years working summers for a local landscape company).  Abandoning the garden has him a bit remiss about the forthcoming move to a bigger (3-bedroom) apartment to accommodate Maya (they have already picked out a name knowing a daughter will be arriving) and Mummy (Samia’s mother, whom I also met at their wedding and is not only wonderful, but a former member of the Pakistani Parliament!) who will soon arrive to help with the baby.

Today was Sunday, so Mark headed off for his office.  During this first trip, weekends were Thursday and Friday in the UAE (Friday is the holy day for Muslims, and sadly they have since shifted weekends to Friday and Saturday to close the disparity with the West).  But Mark had booked the rest of the week for vacation so shortly after tending to some emergency concerns we were off to an unexpected destination.

Mark wanted to introduce me to the Musandam peninsula, a part of Oman which is severed from the rest of that country by the UAE.  Hailed as the “Norway of the Middle East”, Musandam features magnificent fjords on the Persian Gulf.  Mark and Samia had ventured down for the first time just a few weeks before and thought it was a splendid destination.

To get there we had to navigate across three emirates.  First was Ajman, immediately beyond Sharjah as we proceeded north up the coast.  Struck me as rather junky and Mark reinforced that due to the vast expanse of desert immediately outside your door, the locals consider it an enormous garbage can.  After this we encountered Umm-Al-Qwain, the tiniest emirate and soon entered Ras-Al-Kaymah…an interesting emirate that borders Oman.  I was tickled to learn that this was home to RAK Tiles, which I’ve actually heard of…and now I know where the RAK derives!

In Ras-Al-Kaymah we stopped in the capitol city and lunched at a mall.  It was an air-conditioned, very modern affair and exceptionally clean.  Many ‘ghosts’ here (this is Mark’s term for Arabic woman completely veiled, with a scarf fully covering their face – he calls those with slits revealing their eyes ‘Ninjas’), though I had seen several as we passed through both Ajman & Sharjah – Mark tells me they are somewhat common outside of Dubai.  Need to comment that I’ve seen plenty of unaccompanied women, which casts doubt upon the dread of being female in this Muslim culture (in this very mall there were two Anglo’s in shorts…I assume Brits, but reassuring to sense their comfort level).

On the way towards Oman the towering Harrar mountains came into view.  Absolutely nothing but pure rock, these monsters shoot straight up from the desert floor.  We passed through, what Mark tells me, is the world’s largest concrete manufacturing facility (ideally located given the massive Dubai projects).  And I believe him.  As we drove past the complex a myriad conveyors crisscrossed the roadway (about 20’ high) hauling materials back & forth.  Funny sidebar here is that they actually have to import sand to make the concrete – the tons present on Emirati deserts are too smooth and concrete requires a coarser grain!

Wee bit of commentary on sights thus far.  Plenty of camels spotted roaming about (and I really hadn’t anticipated seeing so many) in addition to even more numerous goats.  Saw the Persian Gulf, a beautiful sparkling blue accented by green streaks.  And finally, ‘old timey’ bill boards, including the likes of Bim, the Michelin Tire Man…feels like I have been transported back to the 1950’s and I’m half expecting to see a Burma Shave sign soon.

Obligatory camel shot in Ajman...

At the Omani border Mark was concerned I might have difficulty getting across, but no worries.  They apparently relaxed the rules dramatically last summer and we just had to complete paperwork and pay fees at two checkpoints.  First was to exit the UAE (40 Dhirams each, about $11 US) and next, entering Oman (3 Riyals for me, 1 for Mark…one Riyal = $3 US).

We were on one of the only two paved roads in the Musandam peninsula of Oman – this one wrapping tightly to the shore at the foot of the mountains.  The road went up and down steep inclines with violent switchbacks…glad Mark was driving!  We passed several small enclaves along the 25 miles and eventually arrived at our hotel, the Golden Tulip Resort (we could actually see it with 6km left to drive…a bend in the road afforded an expansive view and it was obvious that we would be twisting down one side of a long inlet, then back out to reach the Tulip).

The Golden Tulip was a recently built affair in 2004, tacky but modern.  A friendly staff greeted us warmly and assuaged any concerns over language barriers – when Mark asked our bellhop if it would be possible to book a dhow the next day, he frowned & shook his head, but smiled and acknowledged once we substituted “boat” for “dhow”.  Further discussion revealed he had just transplanted here from Muscat in Oman – don’t they have dhows there?

Next we drove into town and at the Khasab Fort Mark noticed a woman who works with Samia occasionally (this woman is responsible for all fort restoration in Oman and is an Anglo).  He couldn’t recall her name, so we pushed on and snaked through the roads of Khasab.  This was very endearing with kids running around everywhere (it was 4PM and school was out), all smiling and waving at us.  We ran into a dead end at one point, so Mark had to slowly pull a u-turn in a very tight alley.  Two Omani men wearing dishdasha’s came along as we were in the middle of the slow turn and their appearance to me was somewhat menacing.  However, since they had to squeeze between the car and the wall to get past, they amiably introduced themselves (both actually insisted upon reaching through Mark’s window and across the front seat to shake my hand too), smiled and kept walking.

 Which way is Mecca?  Our room had stickers ponting the proper direction to pray.

Exiting Khasab, we decided to scramble up a rocky slope just outside of town.  A short ascent later we enjoyed a pleasant view of both Khasab and the Persian Gulf.  We startled several goats during our climb, but I’m happy to report there were no casualties…though it was somewhat frightening how quickly they scampered along the treacherous paths!

Back at the Golden Tulip, we peaced out and reveled in the incredible view from our hotel porch --- the Persian Gulf, framed on both sides by mountain ranges.  Then we took a dip in the pool, but it was freezing cold (unfortunately it was in the shade of the hotel…probably a bonus during the torrid summertime, as Mark shared with me that pools in the summer here are more akin to saunas).  We quickly exited and retreated to our room, where we showered and went downstairs for dinner.  And a lovely dinner it was:  a buffet including falafel, salmon, baba ghannoujh, shrimp, squid and hamour (A Gulf whitefish)….delicious!

Mark & I subsequently retired to the “Private Bar,” which it truly was…the door to it was closed and we both thought it wasn’t open.  But when we cracked the door there was a splendid tavern appointed in classic British pub décor.  In the US it would have received zero traffic, as I doubt my people would venture past a closed door labeled “private”…but glad we did!

We ended the evening in Oman with three rounds of bulls & cows on the dartboard…all three won by Mark.  We were the exclusive owners of the establishment the entire evening and attempted to explain this pastime to our host.  Rather intriguing since the scoreboard was obviously intended for the game we were playing, although it was a complete mystery to the barkeep.  Pretty sure our host got the gist before we retired…but also positive it will fade away since he has no one to share the pursuit with and reinforce the rules after our departure...

Taking it in Stride…

June 5^th, 2010:  Week two the track was extended to 5.5 miles and I accomplished the route at a ten minute pace, but I was whipped.  I was running in dead heat though (temperature was around ninety degrees), so I will try to back off the pace since my attempt to extend runs to twenty miles will occur over summer and it will only get hotter the next two months.

June 13^th, 2010:  Week three upped the ante to 6.3 miles, a hair over a 10K, and I managed to dedicate myself to an eleven minute pace throughout.  This worked quite well as I completed the run with gas in the tank at the end.  The fun aspect of my running route is that I plod from our home south towards Carolina Beach, my favorite beach town.  Getting to know

Carolina Beach Road

quite well and pumped to realize the day when I can get there.  It is only six miles away, but the round trip will be twelve!

June 20^th, 2010: Kim and I drove down to Carolina Beach Saturday morning to visit the farmer’s market there and it was motivating to see how far down the road I had already ventured.  Spied out my next turn around, which was a bend in the road where I could see the bridge over Snow’s Cut Bridge, which gets you to Carolina Beach.  Will need to add another mile, but an inspiring goal...

Later today I completed my 7.4 mile circuit today at a twelve minute pace.  A bit discouraged that the pace continues to slip, but I was religious in maintaining a slow trod in the afternoon sun and only permitted myself to pick things up when I got back to within two miles of home.  Good news is that once again I felt pretty good at completion and I was psyched when I reached the turn-around point and could glimpse Snow’s Cut Bridge!

Dubai Part I: Off to Dubai

Mark, Samia and I  in Dubai, 2004

We were living in Dayton, Ohio when I left for Dubai and my appreciation for travel began.  Flew to Gatwick airport in London from Cincinnati, where I boarded an Emirati Airways flight to Dubai.  This would be a baby step into new worlds, as I shared the middle row on the plane with three gentlemen wearing black sashes and turbans.  This touch of the exotic mixed quite well with the trout appetizer served with my meal (it would have disappointed had I paid for it, but pretty cool when it is unexpected and free!)

The diet coke I requested to accompany my meal was also exotic, by virtue of being covered with Arabic characters.  I had to resist an urge to snag the can as a souvenir, correctly predicting I would soon be drowning in Arabic inscriptions.  The funny thing was that the can featured the old type of tab that you peel off, rather than the “push tab” that has been around for years in America. I actually pulled it partially off and began trying to shove it into the can before deja vu struck me and I laughed at my folly.

When we landed in Dubai I was a bit dismayed by the lack of signage instructing where to go, but eventually muddled through the proper checkpoints to gain my entrance visa and be greeted by Mark.  Mark actually lives in Sharjah, the emirate next door to Dubai (the United Arab Emirates consists of seven emirates, which includes Dubai, Sharjah and Abu Dhabi), but his apartment is only twenty minutes from the airport.

That first night Mark and I stayed up late just shooting the breeze.  I had brought many presents, which were passed out and relieved great space in my luggage for return gifts.  Samia looked wonderful, showing ever so slightly (she is expecting in July), and her nephew Shahwali is here visiting.  Shahwali is Foi’s son (Samia’s sister, whom I met at their wedding).

Had to ask for access to a PC so I could e-mail Kim and communicate my successful arrival (we will have no phone contact for the duration).  Realized how weary I was because I simply couldn’t overcome Mark’s keyboard, which had Arabic characters embedded on the keys, but I had made it to a brave new world.

Off and Running

May 29^th, 2010:  (please note this entry precedes gaining approval from my doctor)

Today I officially began training for Le Grand Raid.  My program will be devoted to endurance and speed is no concern.  You get sixty hours to complete Le Grand Raid and with my disease I aim to focus on crossing the finish line without any fixation upon how quickly I get there.  For the past ten years or so my running has shamefully averaged about two runs per week – one three mile loop and one four mile loop.  I’d like to think I pace out at 9:30 minutes per mile but haven’t timed myself in eons.

The game plan is to start with a five mile run this weekend and add a half mile each week until I get up to twenty.  I will aim for a ten minute pace up to ten miles and reduce to twelve minute miles afterwards.  Knowing very little about training for an ultra-marathon, this might be an absurd routine, but it gets me started.

So I took off today and knocked off the first mile in nine minutes, proceeding according to plan.  After the first mile my route was unfamiliar and since I wasn’t sure of the distance I didn’t check my watch again, thinking I would just get the overall time once I got back home and hope it was under fifty minutes.  Naturally my neighbors were outside working in their yard and I stopped to talk to them, so no idea if I satisfied my first target or not, but I’m off and running!

The Non-Running Themes

Most people would believe I won the lottery by being born a white male in America.  It is undeniable I have been surrounded by material wealth and comfort the vast majority of folks on our planet could only dream of. Yes, I was dealt a setback by being diagnosed with Juvenile Diabetes at 26, but twenty three years later I have come to appreciate this chronic disease is merely a dynamic of my life, not a limitation.

Perhaps the more startling revelation was learning how prosperity reduced my initiative to understand the world.  I walked through the typical expectations of a middle class American, graduating college and securing a job that paid good money.  I rambled about the United States quite a bit but was never motivated to go beyond.  There were several trips “abroad”: to Ireland and Scotland where the familiarity of language and culture did little to educate me that anyone’s existence was much different from my own.

It would not be until I journeyed to visit a friend living in Dubai that I began to grasp just how big Earth is.  My buddy Mark and his wife Samia have been living in Dubai since 2001.  The allure of this alien culture, and quite frankly, the tensions of traveling to a Muslim country post 9/11, led to some serious investigation of our world.

First trip to Dubai in 2004 (though this is Abu Dhabi)

Wilfred Thesiger’s Arabian Sands is likely what opened the floodgates to my desire for learning about the globe.  Wilfred’s adventures were so recent yet so utterly unfamiliar to anything I could conceive.  My take was that the Bedouin culture I would soon visit was honorable and quite welcoming to guests.

Between Wilfred’s saga and Mark’s comfort (he was more worried about us in America than himself after 9/11 – when you consider who the target was I think he was right on) I journeyed to the Middle East in February of 2004 with little concern about my personal safety.  I was struck, however, by how many people expressed consternation and warned me to not “dress like an American”.  This journey would impress upon me that even in such a dramatically different world, the vast multitude is just like me, striving to provide for our family and ensure a solid future for our children.  It would also educate me how insulated my own culture is, easily persuaded that millions are identical to the actions of a few.  I returned with a thirst to understand more about the world and although I’ve been at the well for the last six years my thirst is anything but quenched.

Join My Journey

June, 2010

So with a lot of help from my friends, here’s a web site where I will dutifully track the trials and tribulations around the attempt to run Le Grand Raid in the fall of 2011 (though Reunion is south of the equator so it will be springtime there!).  The goal of this blog is to educate, entertain and expand horizons, with the hope that any of those tacks compensates for any donation you might make to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (I still have to get the fund raising part set up).

I will try to make regular posts along several themes.  The emphasis will be on the training regimen as I prepare this flea-bag, chronic-disease laden carcass of mine into shape for the challenge of Le Grand Raid.  While the race looms as the primary component, travel is another critical facet: I firmly believe getting out and exploring the world helps us appreciate how similar we are despite the vast array of diverse cultures.  The hope is that by sharing how travel has helped me grow and the steps I take to prepare for out-of-the-way places like Reunion might influence you to consider getting out and exploring this big blue ball as well.

Obviously diabetes is another theme.  You won’t find this to be a doctoral thesis, but if you are tagging along I’d like to make you aware of the basics.  You can probably skip over those pieces if you are diabetic, but in that case you are the audience I most want to reach out to.  Even though this won’t be an “official” theme, the main driver of this blog is to inspire you to not let diabetes limit aspirations.  With or without diabetes, you can realize experiences most of the population doesn’t: including physical accomplishments only a sliver of the population achieves, and; travel to remote destinations where few dare to venture.

If you look around there are plenty examples of miserable people and they seem to have arrived in that state without any chronic illness.  Diabetes mandates that you pay attention to life and I am convinced it has heightened my appreciation of this gift, leading to insights I would never have recognized.  So please join my journey with hopes that we both reach new insights and destinations.

We're Official

June, 2010

During a regular check up with my doctor I shared the desire of Le Grand Raid and he expressed grave concern, but not only is he a diabetes specialist, he is also an avid runner and biker.  We agreed to a sensible game plan he suggested:  I will train to run a local half marathon this November, followed by a local marathon next March.  If I survive the marathon, doc tells me the ultra-marathon shouldn’t do me in!  He also pointed out the benefits of kicking the tires where there was ready access to medical assistance, lol.

Next I e-mailed the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF) to inquire about setting up a fund raising event.  I was referred to the state offices in Raleigh, NC and ultimately got contacted by a local Type I here in Wilmington who is associated with the chapter in my home town.  Sitting down with Jim and the local chapter representatives amazed me:  the effort these dedicated folks invest in fund raising is impressive and they suggested my venture could extend beyond monetary input to serve as a motivational tool if I published a blog sharing the saga as it unfolds.

And so here we are, I guess we’re official.

The Plot Thickens

May, 2010

I used to run quite a lot, but stopped entering races after our daughter was born fourteen years ago.  Let me tell you what a fantastic runner I was.  We lived in Maine during the years I entered a lot of 5-mile and 10K races – I never entered anything longer because diabetes complicates running for an extended time.  In 1994 I entered the LL Bean 10K and at the starting line found myself right next to Joan Benoit Samuelson (the Maine resident who won the Olympic gold medal for the very first women’s marathon in 1984).  I want you to know I kicked her butt…for the first fifty yards, and then it was “bye, bye Joanie” lol…

Seriously, I could complete five miles at a 6:30 pace before parenthood found me hanging up the running shoes.  Though this pace didn’t even approach the elite ranks, I felt it was respectable.  Probably more so because I never had a clue of how to train, I just ran hard for several miles several times a week.

Running a marathon never crossed my mind with diabetes.  But to run Le Grand Raid would let me celebrate with locals and veterans at the finish line, an intimacy I cherish, and the challenge to test my commitment at preparation seems apt to celebrate the landmark birthday.  Here is motivation.

The glimmer intensifies as I contemplate the possibilities.  My mundane existence might count as meaningful if I could orchestrate the attempt as a fund raising event for a cure for my disease.  I’ll keep this brief, but please endure a few thoughts around life with Juvenile Diabetes.

There are two types of diabetes.  The majority (90%) are Type II, where the body can’t effectively use insulin.  This is often referred to as the “over forty, over weight” strain.  Type I, or Juvenile Diabetes, is a condition where the pancreas doesn’t produce insulin and typically strikes during childhood.  Even though Type I mandates insulin injections and cannot be controlled by diet and exercise alone, the end results for either type of diabetes are the same.

Though I have often felt cheated by diabetes, my life has been a blessing and I frequently remind myself that if I had been born a hundred years ago I would not have had a chance to celebrate turning fifty.  Research yielded insulin and helping raise funds to identify ways to further benefit folks with the Juvenile Diabetes would be wonderful, especially since most are children.

Attempting Le Grand Raid may not feasible, but if my doctor gives me the green light I will be obliged to make the attempt.  There is also hope to reach out to inspire others with Juvenile Diabetes.  Having to inject insulin into your body four times a day and test your blood four times a day seems terribly constraining, but I’m here to tell you the disease is not a roadblock to enjoying the wonders of life.  Running an ultra-marathon at fifty should be persuasive in underscoring that statement.  Damn, this might be the best birthday ever.

How This Started…

May, 2010
Next year I celebrate half a century of existence on planet earth…the big 5-0.  I don’t feel like an old fart and really can’t complain that physical ailments have slowed me down tremendously…but the fear of that day of reckoning when I am no longer able to enjoy rigorous undertakings compels me to contemplate one last hurrah.

For some time I had been mulling a conquest of Kilimanjaro.  The highest peak in Africa at 19,000 feet (and the highest free standing mountain in the world), scaling this gem is a magical journey.  Researching the endeavor taught me this climb is a slow and steady ascent that despite the rigors shouldn’t be crossed off my list for a few years yet.  Regardless, Kilimanjaro would remain at the top of the list until fate stepped in.

There is an island off the coast of Madagascar which has intrigued me for years.  Reunion is a volcanic island reminiscent of the Big Island of Hawaii and the home of Piton de la Fournaise, one of the world’s most active volcanoes - one which you can hike right up to!  Reunion is in fact a hiker’s paradise, featuring miles of splendid trails, a wonderful culture (uninhabited until the seventeenth century, there is a melting pot of African, Indian, Chinese and French today) and enticing food (curry calamari, anyone?).

Alas, my first serious attempt to visit Reunion in 2006 coincided with a horrible mosquito borne virus plaguing the island. Chikungunya is not fatal, but infected over one third of the population (800,000) and ground the tourist trade to zilch.  So Reunion was dismissed for four years until I attempted to visit to the Yemeni island of Socotra.  When tensions between the US and Yemen jeopardized this trip, my buddy Mark prompted me to reconsider Reunion as a better alternative.  Thus I was motivated to buy a Lonely Planet guide on the island in December of 2009.

The Socotra venture was brilliantly diverted to Oman and it wasn’t until after that expedition that I actually got around to reading my Lonely Planet guide.  The temptations of Reunion resurfaced and within the guidebook pages I stumbled upon an event that struck me as a brilliant way to celebrate approaching decrepitude.  Le Grand Raid is an ultra-marathon event that challenges you to race across the entire island – roughly a ninety mile course!  Did I mention that the up and down elevation change is 9,200 meters?  I think I can tackle Kilimanjaro sometime within the next decade, but the gauntlet of Le Grand Raid would humble me today.

Here’s the challenge to celebrate turning fifty.  I have about sixteen months to train for an incredible journey.  Is this even a possibility?  I do not pose the question lightly because I am a Type I diabetic and Le Grand Raid is one of the world’s most demanding ultra-marathons.  The window of opportunity is closing quickly, so Le Grand Raid it is.