Half Marathon

On Sunday, I did something I thought I would never do – I ran (and finished!!) a half marathon, 13.1 miles, 21 km.  And it was amazing.

There were 900 runners, about 15 of them were fellow Volunteers.  There were so many people of different types: Kenyans, high school students from Florida, a mother pushing her child in a stroller, wheelchair experts, old ladies with stiff legs, fat old men.  It was inspiring.  We ran through the city, and though I usually need my ipod music to power me, I actually ran the first half without it.  I simply admired the people running beside me, the honking traffic, the various buildings.  My friend’s sister ran with me, checking on my pace and telling stories.  The weather was perfect – cloudy and breezy.  Just before the race it was pouring rain (not preferable), but magically it stopped before the race.  I think God was with me that day.

I considered this half marathon a metaphor for this journey I’m on.  That’s why I did it.  It felt good at first.  I had so much energy, so much adrenaline.  I was optimistic and having fun.  Then after the first half, we ran through a boring park, and I could feel my energy leaking out.  However, when I tried to walk, my leg muscles hurt so much I had to keep running or power walk.  The race became hard.  I had a hard time breathing, I was thirsty, and I had to talk to my body to keep it moving no matter what.  It felt like breaking up with someone you love.  Or being in the Peace Corps and trying to motivate people.  It took a lot of work and talking to myself to finish.  I knew I was suddenly alone in this race, and only I could finish it.  I had to depend on myself.  So I did what I could to survive.  I alternated power walking and running, blasted motivational music in my ear (thanks to my little sister for “Daylight”… it saved me), sipped on a water bag which hung from my mouth, relaxed my arms, looked at the ocean view.

I finished in 2 hours, 45 minutes.  Definitely not the time I wanted, not what I would have gotten in my racing hey-day ten years ago.  But I finished and that was my goal.  And when I crossed the finish line, there was barely anyone there looking on.  But I sprinted as I always do and gave it my all until the very end.  Afterward, people handed me water and crackers, placed a medal around my neck (for participating), cut the digital chip that was attached to my running shoe.  I joined my fellow racing Volunteers and they congratulated me, hugged me.  It felt so good to finish.  I was happy.

So another thing to check off my list of “Things I Thought I Would Never Do.”  What does it mean to be happy?  Surprise yourself.  Seriously, it works wonders for your self-esteem.

P.S. I’m sure there are some (un-flattering) racing pics of me floating around out there.  When I get my hands on some, I’ll share them with you all.  Peace, love, run.

The End of an Era

On Tuesday morning, I'm leaving on a jet plane to go back to the Island.

When I come back home next May, things will be quite different for me and my family.  My baby sister will be graduating high school.  My parents will be moving to a new town.  I will be almost 30.  And what will I be doing?  Traveling I hope and starting anew.

This trip here has been crazy and illuminating.  I came back to the "past" to realize that things have to move on.  There have to be changes.  We gotta keep moving in this crazy world, otherwise, we'll be stuck, feeding off memories, living in the past, when everyone else is in the future.

Ten years of changing, moving around, building relationships, ending things -- all of this to get here to NOW.

It is certainly the end of an era.  Time to walk out into the daylight.

"Rowing Song" by Patty Griffin (thanks for the recommendation, Jean!)


Rowing Song by Patty Griffin from Alanna Savage on Vimeo.

Back to the Future (also: Out with the Old, In with the New)

I’ve been in the U.S., rediscovering my past.

First, I went to New York City to pick up some things, sell my furniture, and to say goodbye – to my old “home,” to HIM, and to my old life.  It was strange being back.  Nothing had changed except there were more hipsters populating my old neighborhood.  But people were still rushing about, trying to get somewhere.  The air was refreshing (a cool 70 degrees), and there was that good ol’ NY tension in the air.  A little brisk, to be sure.  I experienced a bit of culture shock too.  No one came to my rescue to help me with my heavy bag.  The buildings were so large, and there were so many stimuli.  It was overwhelming being back.  But I came to a realization: my place is in the D.R.  Everything was the same, but I had changed, and I felt that I didn’t quite belong there.

It was definitely hard being back in NYC.  I learned I had to let go of love.  Just let it go.  Sasha had moved on and he's looking forward to a new chapter in his life.  I have my very own life in the DR now, one that I have created tabula-rasa style.  Our past together is just that - our past.  The present and the future beckon me.  But first, I needed closure with him and the life I so hastily left behind.  I got just that.

After New York, I flew to Florida for my ten-year high school reunion.  I saw a lot of vaguely familiar faces, and we each gave a synopsis of the past ten years of our lives.  I explained to people, "I'm in the Peace Corps."  Then, I would get an "awesome!" in response and that was it... Or people already knew what I was doing (and ditto for me) because of Facebook.  My favorite part of the reunion was spending quality time with my best friends.

So now that I’ve spent time going back to the past, I’ve been considering my future lately.  Grad school?  A government job?  Backpacking abroad?  I really don’t know.  I want to start a family, of that I’m sure, but that will be several years down the road.

All I know now is that I have eleven months left, and I’m going to spend them getting to know myself.  I’m finally alone, without any attachments.  And this will be the only time I’ll have to figure out what it means to be alone.

I spent a few hours having dinner with a good friend the other night.  I hadn’t seen her in years, and we were talking about spirituality.  Surprisingly, we became so engrossed in the conversation that the hours just melted away.  She told me about the service she did in Israel at a religious pilgrimage welcome center.  She said she arrived to Israel with a big hole in her heart, a hole that had been bored by recent heartbreak, stress, uncertainty and other external factors.  And it was in her service, serving humanity, where she found God.  Finally, she said, the hole has been filled, and for the first time in years, she feels whole.  I found that prospect inspiring.

Serving, being a good person, aspiring to be greater, and appreciating beauty are all steps to finding God.  I think I want to spend the second part of my service getting to know myself and working on my relationship with God.  Perhaps part of the search for spirituality starts with me and my own self-discovery.

So very soon, I will be going back to the island, ready to move on.  Alone.  Alone with God.

And now....
Some pics from yesterday and today.

  9th grade, 1997

10th grade, 1998

11th grade, 1999

 12th grade, 2000

Today, 2010

BFF's, 2010

brigada verde is awesome.

My Brigada Verde group is so much fun!  We want to do so much!  Can y'all help us out with some of the items listed below?

Thanks so much.  My BV group thanks you.  The environment thanks you.  I thank you!

P.S. I just sent out my first grant proposal hoping to get some funds for my little group.  Wish me luck! :)