the end of the shower boycott

after an estimated 78 hours of train rides, 25 hours of bus experience, 20 kilometers of walking with all my belongings, countless hours in a rickshaw, and 3 hours on the back of a camel named gopal, i have returned to hyderabad 5 kilograms less and one heavy beard more. i have seen northern india and will forever remember the experience.

the stories can start anywhere a dart lands on a map of the subcontinent and the stories end at precisely the place one think they should not. it was a perfect experience for someone who has never traveled outside of the the united states and canada, making a barefoot hike on crutches around the circumference of the lunar surface laughable. in truth the travel arrangements got to be pretty easy and once i was able to decifer india's trains at a glance magazine i felt i could decode dolphin echolocation and view the task of translating War and Peace into morse code with my toes managable. apparently perspectives change under the influence of chai and himalayan air.

to clear up any confusion of the title of this post, i did actually perform a shower boycott somewhere near the spot buddha attained enlightenment. i refused, after careful contemplation, to forego yet another ice cold spicket shower-aided in justification by the protective layer of grim spared that i deemed necessary for survival on a government bus.

and before i enjoy a soft slumber and another episode of lost, season one, i must reveal the great intensity of travel chaos also allowed me to see the wonderful clarity of peace and calm in arenas only recently removed from my thickest daydream. i may never walk with monks again at the home of the dalai lama or watch a family of men cremate a loved one on the banks of the ganges or see a sunrise sniff out the regal peaks of everest, kachenjunga, and lhotse (3 of the 4 highest peaks in the world). i may never see these intoxicating sights again, but my vision is now a little sharper as a result. thank you, lauren.

with only two weeks left to go in india, i've got to get some of these stories out to make them "authentic". plus, the pictures need to be published because i promised grandpa a snap of the taj mahal...

new terrorist threats update

for the second time in less than a month, i feel it necessary to update both family and friends that lauren, devon, and i are safe at a time when, as of this post, 58 people have died in explosions in new delhi.

originally we planned to travel tomorrow to delhi and visit the new delhi and the surrounding areas but have canceled the flight. we have taken all the precautions recommended by the united states state department and the embassy in new delhi.

the explosions come at a time when india and pakistan have taken meetings to discuss peace between the two nations. pakistan and india shared the disaster of 80,000 estimated dead in a huge earthquake earlier this month near islamabad, pakistan with the majority of the deaths coming in pakistan. following the earthquake india (along with many nations) offered aid to which pakistan "was very grateful". i thought this might help facilitate a peaceful arrangement between the nations, but many extremists have taken to disrupting any type of peace process killing many innocent indians- many of them children in attacks not even 12 hours old.

with the ability to leave the country or remove myself from any type of dangerous situation within the indian borders, i can only imagine what life must be like for those unable to leave who have grown up with extremists threatening their lives.

public service announcement

feeling the need to provide some much needed good news, i'm happy to announce the following:

after 15 years of anticipation, it is finally here. the legacy, the splendor, the bright colored codpieces. ladies and gentlemen, rocky VI is going to be a reality. personally i'm a little concerned for those early 20's guys stepping in the ring with a seasoned and 59 years young balboa, but that's the nature of the sport. will rocky's punch-drunk slur lure his opponents into a state of hypnosis? will carl weathers team with with burgess meredith to provide the visions of inspiration during rocky's hallucinagenic training? i can't wait...especially because it will be on an IMAX screen in hyderabad, without a doubt.

terror alerts

dasara day was supposed to be a vacation for those working; a celebration with the giant demon king, ravana and others burnt as effigies signifying the triumph of good over evil. this morning the times of india(article is linked) front page recognized hyderabad as a possible center for terrorist attacks, including suicide bombings, on united states interests within hyderabad, delhi, mumbai, and kolkata.

the attacks are threatened at companies with ties to the united states, with the companies mentioned as dell, microsoft, ge, and google. normally US state department alerts of this nature are followed by a second call, indicating the seriousness of the threat. as of right now, no call has been made.

this is not meant to cause alarm for friends or family, although i know it will. rather, the description of events is meant to indicate both lauren and i are aware of the situation and have taken appropriate precautions to avoid any risks. i also feel i should continue to document my time in india as truthfully and candidly as possible.

i guess this means a few more miles on the treadmill...

welcome to chennai, may i have your watch?

the tour of india continued last weekend with a visit to the southeastern city of chennai. originally i was quite fascinated with the idea of chennai especially with its recent crackdown on husband and wife displays of public affection. the hotel we stayed at during lauren's work trip was a brilliantly sleek place called the park. we were greeted upon entry by towering bamboo columns set in broken safety glass, incense and perfume in the room, and a sparkling fitness center. all of these things i had yet to experience in india or any other part of my travels.

with lauren at work all day, i had the chance to watch a little playoff baseball. i was excited mostly because the broadcast showcased the bland and boring commentators i grew up with, rather than the colorful and excited transmissions of even the most insignificant cricket match. it is easy to love a game as slow as cricket when the passion of the game is palatable across a television set thanks to a couple of announcers. i still prefer to watch baseball muted with the radio broadcast on- the mariners play better that way, i'm convinced.

still, watching baseball on tv is no way to see the city. so i went for the tour de foot. after 18 minutes of humid hell, i made it to the beach and wandered down to the water to be swarmed by a baker's dozen of boys ages 6-12. they were quite interested in explaining to me about baby horseshoe crabs and how to catch them in the sand. as i squatted down to meet the ancient chelicerates, i became instantly aware of the bathing suit of choice for young fellas at the beaches of northern tamil nadu: a belt. or at least they called it a belt. what i found out later was this was some sort of religious thread worn all the time by these kids. (i'll have to dig up more information on this) normally this "swimwear" would be obvious anyway, but thanks to the reduced personal space i found myself sequestered in a circle of optionally clothed beachgoers. after a few uneasy minutes of culture shock, i thanked them for sharing their crabs with me and returned to the hotel.

my second run in chennai was intended to be a long effort. i had made plans to run along the water to the largest banyan tree in the world and return near the church where the remains of st. thomas (doubting thomas) are kept.

the parking lot at the beach was kept clear of cars by cricketers of all ages enjoying the weekend sun and as i passed through i was followed by a rickshaw driver named kumar, whom i met the day before on the beach. the second meeting of kumar was an extension of the previous afternoon during which he stalked me nearly the entire 5 kilometers back to the hotel telling me to "talk first, run later". i was humored at first, then furious when he tried to stop me for the third time on a street that required all my concentration as to avoid a surely fatal collision with a work cart driven by cattle. i wasn't all that excited to see him the second day. however, maybe i needed to take his taxi to boost my karma...

along the ocean, buildings could have been lined the street to welcome the sun. unfortunately the tsunami took care of that. destruction still littered the beach and the shacks people live in on the side of the street opposite the beach. the color of the people living here was still charming, as were most everyone in chennai. a woman in her 40's decked out in a sari, escorted me a few steps amongst boisterous laughter in the fish market, turning before the firework thrown at me exploded behind my feet.

i managed to get to the end of the market and decided i needed to get back to the hotel at some point. so i stopped to talk to an elderly gentleman who explained how the community lost 70 people in the tsunami ("70 people...finished" he said). i'm sure he and i could have talked for hourse, but it was only then did i meet inarguably the worst pickpockets in all of india.

a pack of boys, probably late teens, approached me allowing the older gentleman to quietly exit. they inquired as to where i was from and what i was doing in chennai. then one aggressive fellow named charles extended his hand to shake mine. i thought this was a hospitable gesture and returned the greeting only to have him continue to grasp my wrist with a silver band lauren had given me upon my arrival in hyderabad. i shook loose of the grip a number of times and really gave them the benefit of the doubt until one guy inquired as to if i would trade him my running singlet for his grubby polo shirt. citing an obvious size difference and that my shirt was a gift, i thought it might be time to leave. charles continued to shake my wrist and band, ignoring my hand. this didn't seem too odd because indian men hold hands and touch each other all the time and i feel this is an endearing gesture. however, as he pulled at the silver band, i yanked my hand away. charles, in an attempt to win my watch and band, offered to box me for the items. knowing full well that i didn't want to spend a night in the chennai prison for pounding (or getting pounded by) a 5 foot 2 inch, 97 pound teenager, i warmly declined and turned to go. charles (sensing this was his last chance) grabbed my arm again to say goodbye and gave one more firm tug on the silver band. i calmly weaseled my arm out of his grasp and thanked all the fellas for the cultural awareness program and continued my run back to the white gloved door man at the park hotel.

this shouldn't put a damper on chennai, however. the city was filled with wonderful people anxious to share their town with me. i truly enjoy the runs that take me through the streets where people live and children play. occassionally they let me swing the cricket bat a few times, for which i feel is by far a wonderful diplomatic tool.

kochi klarification

following a conversation held in an airport shuttle bus in chennai (formally madras until 1997) india, i feel i must indicate the term "jewtown" in my last post was in no way intended to be offensive or derogatory. the name of the community has been in place following the move to mattancherry by the the first jewish settlement north of kochi after becoming involved in the spice trade along the malabar coast.

kochi kats

the kittens know from the start kochi is the place to be. born into a country where dogs seem more interested in eating a shoe than chasing a cat and in a city almost completely absent of cars or scooters, kittens have it good. kochi, formally known as cochin, is the jumping point for the kerala backwaters- india's most southwestern state. cats have seen the dutch come and go, the portuguese take a turn at running the place, and accepted a jewish community- refugees from palestine 2000 years ago.

outside the oldest european built church, st francis church (1503), a field of school kids and post-work adults mingle in a makeshift cricket practice unconcerned with the seriousness one must take while visiting the former resting place of vasco da gama. the cats on the wall dividing da gama and an eager 12 year old batsman cannot be bothered by either during their afternoon snooze. there is apparently much work to be done after the sun sets.

along the street that passes st francis church one can find postcards being peddled and dolls twisted on strings, a slave to the dancing ineptitude of their puppet master. an alley leading left to the beach hosting an interstate handball competition also provides a brief relief from the uninspired touts. turning northeast on the dirty sand presents old chinese fishing traps as a foreground to the inlet of water and palm lined tongues of land darting out into the glassy gray surface occasionally interrupted by long boats. this is cat nirvana.

the chinese traps use a counterweight system and the efforts of at least 8 men. the nets are dropped into the water from piers and occasionally brought to the surface to be checked for all types of fish. usually this is done in the morning when the tide brings in new victims- so the cats sleep, and wait. this isn't to say cats are everywhere, because they are not. the animals are just a little more relaxed and seem less anxious than those of hyderabad, mumbai, colombo, and other big cities.

after watching some kittens wait patiently for mom to return full of milk, we took part in an illegal beer at a plastic table wedged between long boats and a chinese fish trap. i had no idea the beer was illegal when it was ordered at our "restaurant" but got the picture when our host brought it tucked under his shirt with his eyes frantically scanning for police. so naturally we had our "tea" out of coffee mugs.

the stroll through the fish market was amusing and quite enjoyable. most vendors were in a jovial mood probably due the beginning of the evening selling session and were more than willing to pose with a giant shrimp or barracuda. when i explained it was much too early to buy fish, this was nodded with approval as if i actually knew what i was talking about. so of course we left to have dinner elsewhere.

in the morning we took breakfast and the finest coffee i've had in india at an art gallery. kochi has done a wonderful job of supporting local artists and lauren did her part by choosing a beautiful painting the evening prior. we had big plans to visit jewtown (it should be noted that the term "jewtown" is in fact the correct and proper name for the area and is in no way intended to be degrading or offensive. if this is contrary to the beliefs of some, please leave a comment) before heading into the backwaters on a houseboat, necessitating an early morning. the streets were quiet even after our meal with the exception of the vegetable and fish vendors pushing their carts through the dutch streets. people would peer from their french style doors and buy what was needed for the day. and the cats would follow. one or two cats seemed to accompany each fish monger and the unrushed proprietor would kindly set a sardine out occasionally for his feline sidekick.

after checking out of a wonderful inn, the raintree lodge, we headed to jewtown. after speaking with a few folks at the fish market, i gathered the population of jewish decent was 7. feeling this must have been a mistake, i chalked it up to the language barrier and assumed 7 meant 70 or 700. i was wrong- there are only 7 people of jewish faith living in kochi. the population dwindled after many returned to their homeland, leaving only 4 families and 14 people in 2002. still, jewtown is the heart of kerala's antique market and is known for its spices. i'm quite proud of the old wall clock (purchased after intense inspection) and lauren found some ink blocks. i'm even more impressed that my clock chimes a random number of times at the top of every hour. very unique. and with this we left the cats and continued to the houseboat for an evening, a long way from the kats of kochi

divine intervention

i arrived in india with great expectations- visions of cultural insight and spicy foods, inspirational runs and spirited cricket matches. much of this optimism remains in place, but with some slight alterations. let me reference my very first run in india.

the apartment complex that is now home is a 10 story building with elevator stops at every other floor. this is to have the guests avoid the homes of the cooks, cleaning crew, and managers and therefore continuing the obnoxious (at the very least) caste system. jobs in india provide a huge measure of personal worth and pride and judging by the massive amount of people wandering around at all hours of the day, any job is very hard to come by. some people work in the endless amount of construction, others own little snack shacks found in every little village, every side street. still, the job that seems to be everywhere at once is the autorickshaw driver. these three wheeled taxis dart in and out of traffic with neither grace nor concern for the safety of pedestrians or passengers. each vehicle has a black canvas top and a dirty yellow body and the driver/owners have taken to painting the back "window" and engine housing with messages that might draw in one more school kid to the 11 they have already shoehorned into the rickshaw.

my first encounter with the taxis came as i rounded the corner on a 3 mile loop from jayabheri (the apartment complex). out through the open field which serves as a cricket pitch and buffalo pasture, i skirted security at the convention center checkpoint-claiming i was with accounting in the middle of an audit as i waved to the perplexed guards. the backside of the convention center drops into a two way dirt road cleft by segments of power poles resembling the eiffel tower, the warm buzz of inconsistent electricity softly singing to sleep those living below the wires in reclaimed garbage lean-to shacks. there is also a school there and i'm uncertain if it is a government or private school, but judging by the small parcel of land used for recreation, it is probably private and a considerably better education than the government run system.

the dirt road reminded me of two very important facts while finding adventure on foot in this land: 1. people drive on the other (or in many cases, whatever side best suits their fancy) side of the road. 2. people drive without concern for any human in their path. the second i found a little ironic considering the nature of religion here. every dog, cow, or monkey can be made into a shrine, but people should know better than to venture out into the street. SHOULD know better...

600 meters later i'm at a junction knowing i have to turn what i think is south. (the direction is actually southeast) at this point i'm dragging a few more pounds in my legs thanks to the pooling of blood from my 29 hour flight and barely miss a sputtering rickshaw as it exits some unseen taxi cave to begin work. i'm convinced the road i'm on will be called rickshaw row once naming the streets catches on, due to the unbelievable amount of yellow and black honking and swerving around me.

i stay on the dirt shoulder, careful to avoid sleeping dogs and garbage piles. but i've made one critical mistake: i'm running with traffic.

the greetings on rickshaw row are quite extraodinary and treated like a celebrity- more fletch than rocky, as a morbid curiosity stretches across the faces of young and old who must wonder why i'm being punished and when i'll be run over by a water truck. and so the people stare. some cheer mockingly (but i love it anyway) and many in the cars and bikes, scooters and buses twist their heads like hungry owls trying to get one last peak at me.

as my traveling circus continues for a mile or so i start to soak it in. i'll stare back with a slack-jawed expression or wave to the kids while watching the cars and rickshaws speed up and stop just to watch me go by again. the whole process is pretty nice, actually. not a single person yelled "run forrest run" or told me "nice shorts, asshole!" or at least my illiteracy in hindi allowed me to think so.

truthfully i was having a pretty good time soaking it all in, even when my face slammed into the back of an autorickshaw. apparently those three-wheeled wonders don't have that much to do and followed me for some time until one decided he needed to see me pass by again. misjudging (or correctly planning for) the pace of my gait, the driver pulled over with just enough time for me to read the painted synthetic leather back window with the message everyone wants to read in anticipation of an inevitable high impact collision with a parked vehicle in a foreign land: jesus is coming...soon.

and through this, i was baptized in india.

the bell rings in india

welcome back. for those waiting to hear about adventures in running, you've come to the right place. for those looking to find an entertaining story or so about my move to hyderabad, india- this is the place also. so let's get it started.

first off, i've played with the idea of posting some pictures to this particular site and although that seems rather convienient, i'll have none of that and will be posting india madness to a sister site, wobblehead.

sure, you'll find the same low grade, self-involved writing that made the bell lap into the cult following it is today (thanks again, mom and dad), but at the same time i think many will find enjoyment in the photos of me getting culturally involved with all things indian. due to unfortunate circumstances i was forced to shave my moustache, so please don't even ask. now it is about time for a story, don't you think?

is THIS the end?

many folks have commented (thanks mom and dad) about the status of my writing before i move to india. i didn't find the energy to revisit the the running topic prior to my departure despite the remaining few races after my shambled 5,000m a while back. i don't really have the energy to dive into the topic now, but since my india blog has yet to be set up (i can't decide to just keep plugging away at this site or not) and i'm slowly losing contact with the outside world, i better muster up some final push to wrap up the season, year, and career.

i ended the farm team with a boring 1500m race in about 3:54. pretty slow and i would have been much harder on myself if i hadn't at least given it a good go to qualify for USATF nationals. i ran near 2:00 for 800m and then caved for the next 700m but did follow the rabbit in windy conditions at stanford. we were in one of 3 races that afternoon and i took a little pride back by outsprinting some poor struggling soul in the last 300m. the season did find me in gathering a new PR in the 1500, 3:51 in eagle rock california during which i bathed in the glory of a miler.

the last few weeks of the season contained very few motivated runs- but i got them done- mostly chats with wallace and hanging with gibbons as the move to india took center stage. i knew i was done competing and i'm sure gags had a pretty good idea also. the experience with the farm team has been the single most productive decision i have made personally in my life. i feel it was bigger than going to college where i did, bigger than accepting a job (to date), and probably bigger than moving to india (so far). i cannot think of a better way to have spent the last 4 years than in a farm team jersey. the friends and stories accumulated throughout the years, the disappointments and successes all were a product of passion- of which i am extremely proud.

thank you to all who have supported me, encouraged me, raced and pushed me- you allowed me to explore the limits of one part of being. i can't wait for more.

anticipating a tough race ahead...

with one lap to go, my tilted head is embarassed by the 2nd and 3rd place finishers to my right.

roughly 2400m into the race, i'm pretty thrilled with my left leg displaying the thousands of miles run this year.

at least 2000m into the race. two team members (andrew hill and steve sundel) briefly race behind me.

near 1000m into the race. Bolota has always been a good friend and offered some kind words after the race.

the start of the 5000m. j. carney has always been a great supporter of the Farm Team despite his affiliation with Team USA Monterey, a rival club.