Train, train (don’t) go away

October1st, 2010:  So I am clearly in the jaws of competition for the first time in eons.  Despite a desperate desire to concentrate on conquering long distances without dwelling on time, I am pushing myself.  A bit shameful that the motivation is avoiding public embarrassment, but the results are dramatic: when you consider my twelve minute pace at the start, I’ve come a long way.  Had a forty minute run Wednesday and a fifty minute run today, and completed both at sub eight minute mile paces!

There is clear value in competition.  I’ve slogged along the last dozen years marking miles with no concern over improving, but running against others is a driver to run harder.  This awareness gives me a rush at the beginning of each run --- do I really want to push myself?  Without the competitive carrot I would not, but once you commit to a brisk pace it seems to carry you through the entire run.

I realize eight minute miles aren’t anything to brag about, but clicking off six miles at this pace marks a personal landmark.  Two months ago I couldn’t have accomplished this, so the training is bearing fruit.  The message for everyone, diabetics and non-diabetics alike, is to get involved with life.  Tackling Le Grand Raid has awakened me to how much more awaits if you push the envelope.

I am probably an idiot to think I can complete the half marathon in less than two hours, but the diabetic restrictions shouldn’t compromise me terribly at this distance and I have set sights on the target…wish me luck!

You Say Dubai Part VII: Running on Empty

Thursday, February 26^th, 2004:   Once again, arose about 8AM and all three of us returned to Dhafeer, for a slightly extended walking tour + photo shoot in the desert.  I was astonished by the myriad of tracks.  On the same spot yesterday evening, the windswept sand appeared lifeless.  But early in the morning, witness the plethora of signs of life!  Evidence of bugs (Rhinoceros & Scarab beetle tracks…Mark explained how enormous these critters were), lizards, snakes and a small dog or fox littered the landscape (wish I had an authority to confirm this was a fennic fox so I could impress my daughter, a big fan of animals and one of her favorites is a stuffed replica she has of a fennic fox…which she knows quite a lot about and lives in these environs).  When the lights go out, the desert must come alive.

We trekked awhile and returned for breakfast about 10AM.  Afterwards I caught up on this journal for a bit while reveling in the sandy oblivion presented from my back porch.

Looking upon the Empty Quarter from my porch in Liwa

 

Samia headed for the pool at 11AM and the boys ventured out to seek Waheeb Hill, which at 800 feet is reported to be the world’s largest sand dune.  The receptionist informed us it was 45 minutes away, so we were already resigned we wouldn’t go the distance as we would soon need to start back to Dubai.

However, the short progress we made was very cool.  There does exist a single black top road winding back through the dunes towards Waheeb Hill.  In places it almost entirely drifted shut by sand --- interestingly reminiscent of snow drifts and lending understanding to the caveat from the receptionist that the attempt cannot be made without a heavy duty 4WD vehicle.  Up and down we proceeded through monstrous canyons of sand.  Wild to witness all the sand pyramids extending as far as the eye can see.
Each “pass” we went over usually bottomed out to a salt marsh, where a few trucks and several laborers sweated away.  I was surprised by the occasional inhabited blockhouses and snapped off several obligatory pictures of camels.  There were a couple ‘camel ranches’ out here and we even passed a small caravan of camels that evoked strong visions of “Arabian Sands” and bedouins from a time just lost!

Mark & I took some pictures around a curious sign along the road.  It was a big exclamation point in an upside-down yield sign.  We were in the middle of nowhere and didn’t encounter a single moving vehicle, so we were intrigued what it could mean.  And I was tickled when we passed another one along the highway by Abu Dhabi which included the English subtitle of “anticipate surprises” …too funny!

Several years later I submitted this picture to a web site featuring wacky signs (www.signspotting.com) and was delighted to receive a check for $50 eight months later purchasing the rights.  Don’t laugh…now you have to address me as “Mr. Professional Photographer”.

Flash forward another year and I was further surprised to receive a complimentary copy of “Signspotting II” in the mail à where my photograph was the final snapshot included in the book!  This really is an amusing book and only $9.99 on Amazon: go to http://www.amazon.com/Lonely-Planet-Signspotting-Worlds-Absurd/dp/1741791820/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1288883476&sr=1-2].

…always glad to autograph your copy!  J

Anticipate Surprises  -  my picture, which is the last entry in ‘Signspotting II’

But back to the dunes. Time ticked all too quickly away and we doubled back to Liwa in search of a gas station to top off for the long cruise home.  Mark pulled over to ask two Arabic gentlemen along the road where we could find some pumps.  They only blinked their eyes at “gas station”, but pointed exuberantly down the road after Mark rephrased our query as “petrol”.  We passed the same two gentlemen after successfully getting gas and I was provided with a valuable lesson.

Most Arabs I encountered on this journey made eye contact without further acknowledgement…and that leaves a ‘hostile’ impression for me with my Western inclinations.  I have compelled myself to reinforce that this action is not hostile, just a cultural nuance and my two Arabs confirmed the absence of antipathy.  When they saw us again, the one gestured with a tentative thumbs up and an intense questioning expression.  I replied with a ‘thumbs up’ and nodded vigorously.  He broke into a broad, warm smile and triumphantly echoed my thumbs up!

We retrieved Samia who took the wheel as we trekked back to Dubai.  Mark and I both nodded as Samia steered through giant dunes of red sand towards Hameem, where we hoped to have some lunch & see the “World’s largest 4WD”, which the concierge at Liwa told us was a local attraction.  The vehicle was owned by Sheikh Hamad of Abu Dhabi and our instructions were simply to keep a watch out for a “large metal pyramid”.

Hameem struck out on both counts.  No lunch spots and no metal pyramid in this wee enclave about 50 miles down the pike from Liwa.  So we rolled on and after another 90 miles saw the pyramid! (so, is something 140 miles away a local attraction???)  We pulled off and got escorted in to witness the beast.  None of us doubted it was indeed, the world’s largest off road monster --- stunning and very amusing.

Underneath the World’s Largest 4WD, somewhere deep in Abu Dhabi…

There were several other amusements at the palace (you couldn’t see sheikh Hamad’s place as a huge fence encompassed his estate).  An elderly gentleman escorting some camels told me a camel ride was 10 dhirams before we went into the pyramid and after we viewed the 4WD I handed Mark my camera and informed him I needed to accept the offer so I would have a picture of me on a camel for my daughter.

When we got back to where the camels were the old dude had been replaced by a younger guy.  As we neared him Samia suddenly snapped some Urdu at him and after his Arabic reply she motioned me to sit on the camel --- she had just bargained for me to sit on the camel for no charge.  Well heck, I was kinda looking forward to riding a camel but this was too amusing to contest!

Afterwards we made a beeline for Dubai as Mark and Samia had invited guests to their apartment for dinner.  The only sad part was when we neared Abu Dhabi and the desert sand returned to its usual dirty white.  The beautiful red sand and huge dunes had vanished, but there would be further wonders to contemplate…

Vance rides the wild camel --- no charge!

Back in Dubai, our first stop was Spinney’s, Mark & Samia’s preferred grocer.  Per my chainsaw math, fruit & veggie prices in Dubai are more than comparable with the US.  Coca Cola is extremely inexpensive: only one dhiram in all the vending machines, which is less than 30 cents US!  Makes you wonder what their profit margins are…

Had to score a bottle of tabasco with half of the language on the bottle in Arabic, plus some dates rolled around almonds that Mark suggested as an excellent gift selection.

Mark also guided me to the secreted “pork” section, where all the haram products are on display.  Haram is the Arabic term for ‘taboo’ or ‘forbidden’.   One souvenir I did not score was a can of Mecca Cola…not just a fun name, but it actually says on the label “Do not mix with alcohol”.  And of course, a friend of Mark’s purchases this beverage to intermingle with Captain Morgan’s to produce (drum roll, please) ----- a haram and coke.  You may groan now…

When we entered the pork section (and it really was hidden away), we encountered two Muslim woman looking around…our arrival chased them away!  I was floored by all of the things in this section, like pork rinds and even chips flavored with pork.  What caused me some consternation was a jar of Paul Prudhomme’s pork seasoning --- albeit it was targeted at haram products, there wasn’t a whit of piggie involved?

Our last battle with Dubai traffic was won and we regained the apartment.  Mark and Samia whipped up an excellent dinner and we all tidied up for the 7:30PM arrivals.   First to arrive were Eric & Amanda (husband is the guy from Bellbrook and his wife is from Alabama).  Shared our visit to the haram department at Spinney’s and Eric sagely pointed out it probably just made sense to park pork seasoning there, even if none of the ingredients were banned.

Eric is another architecture professor and his wife works in the college’s PR department.  They were soon followed by Matt & Heather, who are both Canadian (Heather might have dual citizenship with the US…unsure what either of their roles are with the college).  Much lively conversation ensued and we soon sat down to enjoy a yummy dinner of salad, pasta, roasted veggies and steak.  A final guest, Chris, who has her degree in library science, arrived during the meal to complete our guest list.

Around 10PM we broke up into a separate cars for boys + girls (Matt & Samia both declined to venture out for evening festivities at Mark’s favorite “hooker bar”…the Sea View Hotel) and headed to Dubai.  Traffic was nuttier than ever on a Thursday night (this would be like a Saturday night here) and we got viciously cut off several times.  I was beyond astonished when we parked and the girls pulled in right behind us – how they managed to tail us through the nightmarish traffic boggles my mind.

We went into the hotel and alas, the “men’s room” entrance was blocked, although the girls were obvious veterans and began forging ahead until a bouncer blocked their way.   Mark had already told me about this establishment, and one of its primary facets is that you could enter it through the men’s room from an adjacent night club in the hotel, girls included!  We had to navigate numerous corridors to the back of the hotel where we entered the club through its official doorway.

What an experience.  We pushed together a couple of tables in the smoky bar and parked stage right, next to the female bass player who was just incredible.  The band was comprised of six Filipino’s – guitar, bass, drums, keyboard and two women in glitter suits who sang (beyond these two and the bassist, all males).  It was 100% covers, most appearing to be requests written on napkins that were clumsily funneled to the keyboard player.  Guitarist is also exceptionally talented and everything was played very tight (right down to the synchronized dances the girls did – different each song, but they were right in step with each other).

Ultimate performance was their rendering of the Queen classic “Bohemian Rhapsody” – I think the complexities of this tune would intimidate any band from adding it to their repertoire.   The band pulled it off wonderfully and the crowd went nuts!  Another highlight was the guitarist and bassist pulling the old switcheroo…and of course the woman was jaw-dropping on the axe, playing behind her head and laying down scorching leads.  And after that she jumped behind the drums for a song, lest we consider even briefly that she was merely human!!!  I was also impressed that one of the glitter gals picked up the bass during the drum stint (although she did look a bit uncomfortable).

So let us put the band aside and consider the crowd.  Many Filipino’s on hand here as well, though primary constituency was white males -- largely Anglo’s (American, British, Aussie) and Slavic (Russian) – this mass was standing in front of the stage, intermingling with hookers who nearly matched them in number.

I found it rather sad, the whole hooker-client courtship.  Seemed to consist mainly of dancing (only during breaks), and most of the girls struck me as terrible dancers.  Majority were Oriental, and one in particular danced with three different guys, all of whom repeatedly spun her, with dizzying results (the guys were all overweight and inebriated, but executed their part of the spin quite well…the hooker, however, didn’t quite know the right moves and several times seemed ready to hit the floor).  Mark and I got approached by a black woman when we left our tables to stand and get a clear view of the guitarist, but it only took a simple negative expression (i.e., shaking my head in my case) to keep her moving on.

It was great fun, highlighted by the manager stopping by (with one of many bouncers present) to pay his respects to Eric for bringing some ‘good girls’ into his club.  After the second break the amazing bassist also stopped by to trade tattoo talk (she sported a wealth of tattoos) with Heather --- both had one of those wrap-around jobs on their biceps.

Then tragedy struck.  All the girls at our table went out on the dance floor during break, and when they returned, Heather couldn’t locate her purse, which she had stowed beneath her chair.  We immediately informed one of the bouncers.  A surreptitious search began (I had no hope for recovery however…my guess is that the thief was long gone) with no results, and eventually we exited the club to visit the front desk of the hotel.  Nobody seemed to have any idea what to do and Heather was distraught since her UAE Driver’s license, e-ticket (not certain what this is), original birth certificate and various other forms of ID were gone.  Fortunately Mark had the same ATM and credit cards, so at least we had the phone numbers to get those discontinued, which Heather accomplished from the lobby.

Folks from the club occasionally dropped by to inform us of their latest efforts – I was struck both by how upset they appeared, as well as their incompetence at handling the situation (indicators to me that this was a rare occurrence).  After over an hour in the lobby we finally asked for directions to the nearest police station.  Mark, Heather & I departed for the cops and we dispatched the balance of our crew home.

A short drive later we entered a Dubai Police Station and explained our plight to the two officers at the front desk.  They gestured us to proceed down a hallway and wait to meet with the Duty Officer.  We parked on a plush sofa outside his door, where animated discussions in Arabic were emanating and two men in dishdasha’s stood around looking very sheepish.

Eventually Heather got summoned in.  After still another long wait, she eventually emerged to inform us she needed to return Saturday with her passport to begin the process of replacing her UAE documents….sounds like it will take four months to accomplish!  Worse yet, she was advised to report that the documents were “lost” and not “stolen” --- the latter route would likely add six months to the process without any benefits!  And with that our tour of a Dubai Police Station concluded and the glum trio returned home, arriving at Mark’s apartment at 4AM (Heather lives in an apartment nearby).

As sad as this tale was, I am obliged that it allows me to ask folks if they would like to hear about the time I visited a hooker bar in Dubai and ended the night in a police station…

Pant, Pant....

September 26^th, 2010:  Overall a great week for the running program, despite a mixed bag on the finish.  The training program had me hitting the road for forty minutes Monday and I clicked off 4.9 miles for an 8:10 pace.  Today was a fifty minute run, which I tackled over lunch because of false promises for a weekend adventure (an old friend who is a “hasher” came to town… but the story is too long to share here).  The heat really pounded me, and despite almost covering six miles at an 8:30 pace I was very light headed at the finish.  Heat is clearly an enemy, but hopefully fading as we turn the corner into fall.

My wife has joined me in training for the half marathon and ran a 5K yesterday morning…and won first place in her age group!  Don’t ever let anyone discount the value of support to achieving your goals.  Kim and I are motivating each other and it is a tremendous, rewarding boost.

Did eight miles today and aimed for a nine minute per mile pace.  Worked out to be 9:08, so unsatisfied but not totally displeased.  Once again no gel packs consumed during the run and blood sugar was 86 at the end of the run.  So far, so good but will continue to monitor my head constantly during long runs.

You Say Dubai Part VI: Empty Quarters

Wednesday, February 25^th, 2004:  Woke up around 8AM and showered…Mark was off to meet w/the Chancellor over the faculty housing crisis and I went downstairs to read the paper until he returned.  Read an interesting editorial berating Bush and Kerry because of an opinion that both were born with a silver spoon in their mouth and couldn’t relate to the ‘common man’.  I found this interesting, not because I disagreed, but because sheikhs rule here, an effective monarchy!

We hit the road about 11AM and struck out for Abu Dhabi.  Got a little lost, but eventually arrived around 1:30PM and had lunch at a fantastically traditional Moroccan restaurant.  I had kebab kosh, lamb in a spicy tomato sauce (yummy!) --- Mark & Samia each ordered a local fish they enjoy, Sultan Ibraham.  Best part was that they brought out copious amounts of gratuitous veggies, etc.  --- hummus, pitas, olives (green & black, both delicious), pickled radishes, mint and various lettuce.  I’m growing very fond of mint leaves smeared with hummus as an appetizer.

The restaurant was supposed to sit right on the corniche, but the latter is undergoing some massive reconstruction & they have reclaimed about 250 feet of additional land from the Gulf, so the eatery no longer sits on the water.

Abu Dhabi is a true city…much bigger than I anticipated.  I’m guessing population is at least 500-600,000, but obviously we only drove through a portion and I could be way off.  Wealth seems to be the natural state here too, but it is different from Dubai…. no outlandish “more money than brains” tourist attractions.  I was struck by the numerous, majestic mosques --- Dubai had the same frequency (Mark informs me you score afterlife points for building a mosque), but Dubai’s were much smaller and nowhere near as ornate.  We passed a mosque under construction that was absolutely gargantuan – the funny story here was that completion was held up because they were down-sizing the project because it would have bigger than the one in Mecca (the enormous place of worship would be known as Sheik Zayed Grand Mosque when it opened in December, 2007).

Sheik Zayed Grand Mosque in Abu Dhabi

With the corniche under construction, there really wasn’t much to see, so we left.  Except we didn’t have a map and got lost.  Yeah, it’s an island….but a really BIG island.  Samia rolled down her window and hurled some Urdu at a taxi cab driver, but his Arabic suggestion did little to aid our cause.  We eventually muddled out and were on our way.

We made some dramatic u-turns during this escapade and this is a good spot to comment upon driving in UAE.  I’ve already offered some insight into how crazy it is (Mark claims it’s worse than Rome), but it is rather intriguing and I’ll elaborate a bit.  The main point to realize is that the police don’t pull anyone over.  As Mark expresses, “either you’re driving okay or you have an accident…in which case you are a reckless driver”.  Samia believes that the police (most are ex-pats, though it seems they are encouraging nationals to sign up now) feel that pulling someone over is beneath them, because “that’s what the speed monitors are for”.

I will say that they don’t simply ignore moving violations.  On the highways you see these rather distinctive metal boxes (somewhat like a silver mailbox), which photograph your car if you are exceeding the 120 kmh limit.  You are clueless that you’ve been nabbed until it’s time to register your vehicle again.  At this time you are presented with all the fines you incurred since last time (seems like this is every two years or so)…and no registration until you settle up!

In addition, every car is equipped with this sound system that blares whenever you are traveling faster than 120 kmh (I classify it as “slightly more annoying than the seat belt buzzers” here in the States).  Per Mark, a lot of folks get them disconnected (an expensive operation), but most endure.  It was funny how we would be cruising the desert highway and would trip the buzzer…and just ignore it.  After awhile you do relegate it to background noise.

Anyway, our road continued along the coast, but it had changed to serious desert now, although there is green road frontage the entire way (all irrigated, at least a hundred miles!).  We stopped for gas outside of Abu Dhabi and I decided to hit the lavatory and leave my lunch behind. I was greatly humbled when I entered one of the turrets (the gas station had four turrets to lend a knightly air to its design???) labeled as the men’s room.  The single room inside the turret only had a hole in the middle of the floor!  I thought ‘no problem’ --- I’ve crouched in the woods on many a camping trip --- and searched for toilet paper.  There wasn’t any à just a hose and then I noticed how wet the floor was.  Slowly I backed out….

My first encounter with a squat toilet wasn’t disastrous as we hit another gas station 50 km later to ask directions, and this one was equipped with the western variety of sanitary conveniences (phew!).  This one also had a mini-variety store like here in the States (though curiously, no postcards but many children’s toys like dolls, etc.).  I asked the guy behind the counter if they sold combs and he replied “you look good…you don’t need a comb.  Everyone knows how windy it is in the desert.”

Beware the men’s room!

I was touched by this open, humorous remark, as I was readily identifiable as a ‘westerner’ and believed I would encounter some degree of a cold reception outside of Dubai (this in spite of my friendly experiences in Oman, another very traditional Muslim culture).  I should also comment that I saw several unaccompanied females in downtown Abu Dhabi today (two were Arabic in western dress)…where the stereotypes would dictate this was taboo or a recipe for disaster.

Beautiful dunes in the Empty Quarter

Our desert ramble continued, and heading inland now the dunes began to grow bigger.  After perhaps a hundred miles the roadside plantings disappeared…though its mind-blowing to consider the irrigation system ran that far!  While we only passed through two towns, they were fare sized (i.e., between 10,000 and 40,000).  Not a lot of signs along the road (still in English way out here though!), and suddenly we were at Liwa Oasis, our destination.  Mark & Samia have never been here…the trip was inspired by my desire to see the area Wilfred Thesiger chronicled in “Arabian Sands”. 

It was about 6PM, and much like the Golden Tulip, I was impressed by the modern facilities.  We had a very humorous incident at check-in.  A porter loaded our bags from Mark’s 4WD, but the elevator was so tiny that he couldn’t squeeze his cart on and stated he’d meet us at our room.  When the elevator door closed Samia burst into hysterics --- apparently she teases Mark about how they never off-load the garbage in their vehicle, and among the bags the porter had plucked (and neatly hung with a hangar) was a bag of trash!  What I really adored was when she exclaimed “Oh Marco” --- it is very sweet when she calls him this.

After we gained our rooms (and threw away the trash), Samia wanted to rest while Mark and I ventured out in hopes of scoring sunset over the sand.  Mark was anxious to head for one of the many utility roads we had espied from our hotel, perched atop an enormous dune --- both of our rooms had expansive porches with majestic views of the endless succession of dunes that is the Empty Quarter.  I was skeptical, but we exited the main road in Dhafeer and within five minutes were on one of those very same pathways.  We followed a truck that stopped and dropped off two men, who began walking.  It was incredible to realize that there were homes built back here, albeit it was an oasis and the cinderblock structures only existed where there was some plant life.  Also rather sad to see how the locals consider the vast expanse a great garbage dump, since we witnessed many trash heaps as we progressed down the unpaved road.

Mark & I continued down the road to where it passed a sizable ‘farm’ (or oasis???).  The road ended abruptly at this point.  We parked and scrambled up the dunes to try and reclaim the sun…..already beneath the huge pile of sand immediately in front of us.

The sand is beautiful.  It has a vibrant reddish hue with tiger stripes of a deeper red tint atop the multitude of mini-crests that are everywhere.  The topography is incredible – every time you scramble up over a dune, a bizarre new tableau of wind swept peaks and valleys is presented.  I scrambled up one dune and got quite a shock, because just past the crest was a dizzying descent.  And even got a further scare as I gingerly placed one foot over the top & sank it into the leeward side.  The sand melted away under my foot, completely loose and quite unlike the hard pack on the windward side.  This action created a delightful mini-avalanche that lasted perhaps twenty seconds, sand cascading down with tiny ridges appearing and quickly disintegrating before my eyes like sand waves.

We took some pictures of the forsaken landscape and backtracked to the hotel.

Returned to the Liwa Hotel and after a brief respite headed for dinner.  It was a buffet, which Samia is entirely fed up with (no pun intended).  She successfully swayed the head waiter to bring out a simple bowl of lentil soup and a cheese sandwich.  The bummer is that she requested a grilled cheese, but no comprehension was evident.  We racked our brains trying to derive an appropriate instruction…and Mark substituted “toasted” --- which brought recognition and a smile.  Of course when delivered, it was a cheese sandwich neither grilled nor toasted!

After dinner we pinned down the location of Al Misyal bar, where “Dance Band” performed live five nights a week.  The band consisted of a dark-complexioned man, very sinister looking, on synthesizer, accompanied by two women who sang/dance.   The dude occasionally sang too, and I will not soon forget his rendition of Roy Orbison’s “Oh Pretty Woman”!   It was funny and sad because the accents were so terribly misplaced it sounded as if he had memorized the lyrics and didn’t understand English.

There was an Arab and an Anglo couple in attendance besides our trio…but the couple soon left, as did Samia.  When it was just Mark and I we discussed the group’s nationality.  Mark thought everyone in the group was Russian, but I have such meager exposure to other nationalities that I was unable to offer any opinion of my own.  How this trio wound up in the middle of nowhere performing this gig must be a fascinating story.

I am undecided whether Liwa is an oasis for entertainment…

We left the bar about 11PM & retreated to my room for the “Empty Quarter Spite & Malice Desert Classic”, which Mark won two games to one.  A fantastic evening.  In spite of all the amazing things I’m witnessing, the meat of this trip is the time Mark & I play cards and simply talk --- although I know this will be the reality, there’s always this nag in the back of my mind that asks “what if you don’t have anything to talk about?” Perish the thought!  I am honored to add the Empty Quarter to the venues where we have enjoyed this pastime.

Train(ing) Keeps a Running

September 17^th, 2010:  Feel like I have successfully rebounded in the training program.  Targeted a 140-142 pulse rate for the eight mile jaunt last Sunday and as it was rather hot, which made me assume another miserable pace.  However, I checked my watch at mile six and calculated a sub ten minute pace, and gladly accelerated, finishing at a 9:40 pace.  Not spectacular, but for a tentative first long run in recovery mode I was encouraged

With this long trot under my belt, I will certainly attempt a brisker pace for next Sunday’s nine miler.  I was on the road for work this week, which means I was back in Dayton, Ohio.  Didn’t pack along the heart rate monitor, but it was like the old days where I just ran hard.  For Wednesday’s run I was scheduled for forty minutes and decided to visit some back roads I hadn’t been down in six years (when we lived here I ran several times over lunch each week).  Of course I got a bit confused, but had tested my blood before setting out and was packing along a snack so enduring an additional ten minutes to get back was acceptable.
I cannot reinforce how vital it is to prepare for contingencies if you are a Type I diabetic.  Things constantly don’t go as planned and it is vital to equip yourself so that can deal with the unforeseen.  Sooner or later the unexpected will confront you, and so long as you are packing effective remedies, diabetes won’t block your path.

There are two dietary supplements I’ve purchased to assist my long runs.  My doctor recommended RecoverRite, a powder you mix with water and chug after a long run.  It is supposed to stock your body with essential proteins and such to repair muscles aggravated by the stress.  My wife, who has this incredible wealth of knowledge on food, read the ingredient list on the label and told me I could probably just slurp a glass of milk and save some serious money…but I had already purchased the giant economy size vat of powder.  It definitely hits the spot after a long run and I hope it helps mold my body into a running machine.

Hammer Gels are the second supplement.  These are packets of glycogen, the fuel your body needs to keep humming during long hauls.  I’ve come to appreciate there is a distinction between nutrition and fuel: nutrition being inputs your body utilizes to build a better beast, and; fuel is simple energy to get past the task at hand.  Simple carbohydrates (e.g., sugar) are anathema to diabetics, because it quickly raises you blood sugar levels and generally carries little nutritional value (which is why they are also referred to as “hollow calories”).  But when you are running long distances, simple carbs are fuel to drive muscles and Hammer gels struck me as easy to tear open and ingest while plodding along, each packet containing enough calories to keep going but not so much that it would spike my blood sugar levels.

I planned to hit the Hammer an hour into my run last week, but had also chowed down a pack of peanut butter crackers before taking off and my head was in a good place so I opted out.  Tested my blood after completing the run and it was 84, so quite encouraging.

Regardless, preparation is paramount and I will continue to pack along Hammer gels now that my training runs are getting up there.

You Say Dubai Part V: Enjoying Dubai

Tuesday, February 24^th, 2004:  The next morning we departed on foot to witness AUS (American University of Sharjah).  It was exceptional and I can’t express what a gifted architect Mark is.  He truly dwells upon how his plans will suit creature comforts and displays a gift for managing the qualitative aspects.  We first marched to Mark’s office in an amazing building, dominated by an enormous atrium.  It was a bit uncomfortable as Mark deposited me with his assistant Michael (believe he’s Lebanese, but has lived in UAE for most of his life) while Mark left to meet with several folks.  Michael & I shared a pleasant time reviewing plans for updating the student center and construction of the new library…my discomfort was trying to appear engaging to Mark’s underling.

I was afraid of running out of questions before Mark returned, but he was surprisingly brief and we soon embarked on a foot tour of his accomplishments.  It is impressive and I’m hopeful of capturing a wee bit of it despite my lousy photographic talents.  We first entered his Student Center, which was thronged with students that spanned the spectrum from typical US “grunge” to traditional Muslim attire.  Everyone appeared to be having a grand time and it was a lively, very hip scene.  Mark showed me the funky tube sculptures he created that served as conduits for the required wiring of internet-enabled PC’s the students were enjoying…. precisely what I mean by balancing practicality with art!

Mark at his “office”!

I was blinded when we exited one of the buildings, as the outdoor grounds are blanketed by white granite.  Must be absolute hell in the summer months.  I had donned my “Eddie from Ohio” t-shirt today, and it got the usual results. ”Eddie from Ohio” is a Washington DC band I enjoy and I like to wear it on the road because the minimal result is to receive a “Hi Eddie” from someone.  Kim got me this shirt while we lived in Maine, but the purchase seemed to have tempted fate --- the inevitable follow-up question is “are you from Ohio?” and at the time of this trip we were living in Dayton.

I was introduced to many of Mark’s associates (who all commented upon his casual attire…he later confirmed my suspicion that he sports a tie every day) and got to meet Eric, who grew up in Bellbrook, OH (amazingly enough, a town only five miles from where we were living at the time!), and Gisela, who lived in Indianapolis and attended the University of Indiana in Bloomington.  But best of all, three girls were sitting outside on the lawn (two of them had abayas and shawls over their hair) in front of a building we were entering and I noticed them snicker…and the one girl blessed me with a traditional giggling “Hi Eddie” as we passed --- the Ed factor is truly a multi-cultural phenomena!

The tour got neater.  Talk about a playground for the imagination, Mark displayed his reconstruction of Foucault’s Pendulum (though the brass was tarnished, a surprise to Mark, it is just amazing that he brought to life the centerpiece of a shared favorite in the world of fiction).  And also his Escher inspired gates around the daycare center he designed, replete with surreptitious lizards!  After such a long absence, getting to witness how he boldly displays his admiration for art in his work reinforces why he is such a dear friend.

Although I was enchanted to see Mark’s work, at the same time I was disenchanted to witness how frequently he got nagged by his cell phone.  In fact, he has to meet with the Chancellor at 8AM tomorrow and settle a ludicrous complaint over how many faculty dwellings might be jammed into a small plot...

Mark concluded his business and we returned to the apartment, relaxing until 1PM when Samia got done with her day, and we loaded up Shahwali’s stuff and headed for downtown Dubai.  I was surprised at how long it took to reach downtown from Sharjah (45 minutes), but we finally arrived at the Lime Tree restaurant around 2:30PM.  A very hip place that made me miss Kim à I could easily picture us enjoying this together.

The amusing story here is that I was wearing my prescription sunglasses during the drive.  Mark had asked me to carry his glasses and some other stuff in my backpack before we left the apartment.  We entered the Lime Tree and I quickly noted it was cafeteria style without any line at the moment.  So I hurriedly took off my sunglasses, grabbed my glass case out of my backpack and swapped specs to something more suitable for reading indoors.  My conscious thoughts became “perhaps I do have a spot of jet lag after all” because it was very difficult to read the menu boards (and not because they were written in Arabic…everything over here is labeled in good old English).  It took me about five minutes to finally realize I had grabbed Mark’s glasses instead of mine…

Shared the silly dilemma with Samia & Shahwali as I substituted proper glasses, but of course not with Mark…he was off in a corner on his cell phone!

As we departed I scored some pictures of a celebrated mosque (apparently the only one in the entire UAE which allows non-Muslims to enter, and features sermons in English).  We negotiated traffic again and headed for the Emirate Towers --- “twin juxtaposed prisms” as I had learned during the idyll down Dubai Creek last evening.  A lot of things close 1-to-5 PM in Dubai (hot climate, much like siesta I think), so we couldn’t go the whole way up.  Got up to the 40^th floor however, and it is a magnificent piece of property – ostentatious inside with great views.

In front of Emirate Towers with Mark and Samia

Next we deposited Shahwali at the airport.  Extended my hand for the farewell but got a big hug, which was cool…. and then there were three.  Time for Vance to thank his beautiful wife for this opportunity ----- off to the Gold Souk!  The Mark-Samia debates over proper paths continued and even got worse once we had parked and struck out on foot.  The ‘market’ section of Bur Dubai is a mass of retail shops & people…very confusing.

First stop was the Spice Souk.  Samia had told me what a bargain fresh saffron is in Dubai, and I took her up on the suggestion to get some as gifts.  Mark and I were forbidden to accompany her inside, because she informed us that “just being in the presence of a white male will double the price!”

So, we abandoned Samia with instructions to buy five one-ounce packages of saffron (her recommendation since one ounce is about the most you could reasonably use in one year…and a year is its freshness duration).  Her estimate was 150 Dhiram (roughly $40-US), but her bargaining powers are exceptional and when we reunited she deposited the saffron into my hands and shared the good news that it had been gained for a mere 110 Dhirams ($30 for all five batches!).

Entrance to the Gold Souk in Dubai

Time for the gold.  We strode through a bunch of marketplaces before reaching the Gold Souk, and then to the store Samia frequents (her aunt apparently purchases great quantities there).  Some tidbits offered by Mark and Samia:

1)                  pricing is based purely on the weight, with no mark-up for craftsmanship (mind-boggling)

2)                  this is real 24K gold à I learned that US stuff is 18K tops…wow!  Mark & Samia both exclaimed how beautiful the color of pure gold is, and they were correct – the gold has a deep orange accent (versus white here)…very rich tones.

3)                  Finally, they stressed you can only appreciate your purchase after you have left.  The Gold Souk is nothing but walls and walls of the stuff and really does overwhelm you --- your particular item doesn’t look so special when you are viewing it in a room of pure gold!

Another thing Samia told me was not to be hasty, we could always return.  Fortunately / unfortunately I was captivated by the splendor of the event – the vast quantity of gold, its unfamiliar color, the crowds of like-minded shoppers and the interaction between Samia and the shopkeeper.  Samia modeled many necklaces and earrings, and I was focused upon selecting a set that complemented the bracelet I had already picked out.  Samia was uttering Urdu to the shopkeeper’s Hindu in a spirited exchange.  I was using a calculator that was lying around to indicate counter-proposals to Samia and after much bickering accepted a sum that was vastly beyond what I intended when I entered…but I was a very satisfied customer (fingers crossed that Kim will be too!).

Samia & Vance shopping at the Gold Souk

Opulence describes the balance of the evening.  We headed to Jumeirah, the neighborhood where all the posh resorts are, like the Burj Al Arab (world’s most expensive hotel), the “Wadi World” water park and the site where the massive off-shore “Palms” are being built, which is a man-made island supposed to house vacation residences and resorts…and is visible from space it is so enormous. Unfortunately Mark informs me its sinking, delaying further efforts at the moment!

We were frustrated that none of the first few restaurants we visited could seat us, so Mark dialed up a Pakistani buddy who knew the maitre de at the Wharf…a restaurant at the Mina A’Salaam resort.  Mark hung up and received a call three minutes later instructing us to head for the Wharf were we had outside seating for 8PM (this at 7:40PM)!

I was awestruck by the architecture of this resort…still under construction.  It was traditional, with many wind towers and left a very authentic Arab culture feeling.  I for one would prefer to stay at a place that reinforces local culture rather than creates some high-tech grandiosity.  We met Omar, who immediately seated us and was impeccable from every perspective…just what you would expect from a world-class resort.  The meals were similarly superb – we all opted for evening specials, Samia ordered the crab, and Mark & I scored the red snapper.  It was a mellow evening accentuated by the gently breaking waves of the Persian Gulf.

Our view of the Burj Al Arab from The Wharf restaurant (Mark Kirchner photograph – all copyrights retained)



Further Along the Road

August 27^th, 2010:  So the competitive spirit was rising and I was attacking my runs at a brisker pace than recommended by my training guide.  Even though I pledged to dismiss concerns around quickness for the marathon and Le Grand Raid, I wanted to register a quality time for the half marathon – definitely under two hours.  I am of the mind that the diabetes won’t be a huge minus for the half and thus far am encouraged that I could trot it without any ‘momentum-crushing’ stops to test my blood sugar.

Alas, I pulled a hamstring big time last Friday.  The training program had me scheduled for a fifty minute run and I aimed for a 150 pulse during this circuit.  Big mistake as a mile in I felt my left hamstring go and it hurt.  Backed off and tried two times to pick it up again, but it was clear that I was injured.  Abandoned my run and walked back home.

Dunno if I told you about our new dog, but he may have been the culprit.  Rain is a three year old Yellow Labrador, our new pooch after almost a year without since our beloved Haley (the golden retriever who was with us the last fifteen years) was put down.  Rain is a ninety pound ball of energy who Kim takes out every morning and I take out in the evening.  We usually cover two miles in thirty minutes, but it has been painful after my training runs, especially since Rain abruptly stops and starts back up.

The Rain man enjoying an ocean stroll at Carolina Beach

Though I knew this was crap for my legs, we persisted with this routine until my hamstring blew out.  I took a week off from running and re-joined Massage Envy to get some loving treatment for injured muscles.  Now I only walk with Rain and feel good that our hound is getting the attention he deserves without stressing my leg muscles.  He really doesn’t seem to mind that we tackle our evening rounds at a leisurely pace, and it actually serves to stretch my muscles after longer runs.

September 10^th, 2010:  Very encouraged after some difficult times dealing with my injury.  I quit running for a full week and will confess my hamstring was still painful when I went out for fifty minutes last Friday. Two times I attempted to accelerate the pace before sensing the hamstring about to snap again, and quickly backed off.  The happy outcome was completing the run at a sensible pace without aggravating the injury.

Completed the scheduled five miles Sunday at a 9:20 minute pace which wasn’t stellar, but once again I never stressed myself when I heard screams from my hamstring.  Last two runs have been terrific.  My forty minute trot on Wednesday covered 4.7 miles for an 8:30 pace, despite not pushing it (the hamstring is still complaining).  This afternoon I was scheduled for fifty minutes and I was quite pleased to cover 5.8 miles for an 8:40 pace.

Last Sunday I had to punt on the seven mile run (I am following a program that is supposed to peak you out for the scheduled half marathon on November 7^th).  So this Sunday I face an eight miler without having attempted the seven --- my marathon bible stressed you should sit out when injured, but anything missed is simply missed and you continue with the program when back in action.  That recommendation gets put to the test with the next run.