It’s hard to beat the excitement of international travel. Yes, of course, it’s a lot of effort, it takes time and persistence, and it’s not cheap. Being wedged in a middle seat for fourteen hours, loading and unloading through security countless times, and wending through customs lines all make for weary days. I’ve found myself lost in international cities more times than I care to remember. I’ve been on the receiving end of derisive looks from nationals when my broken French just didn’t cut it. (Thank heaven for Dutch people, who seemingly speak every language under the sun.) I’ve been stranded in the middle of nowhere when the train I was on stopped dead on the tracks as its employee
I’ve never wanted to run in my life. It’s held no interest for me whatever. In fact, if anything, running comes with emotional baggage for me, as it was “the mile” run we were required to do every Friday in junior high PE that made me want nothing to do with physical fitness. For the life of me, I never understood why anyone would be disciplined to run regularly, much less enjoy it and “live for it.” What is this thing called “the endorphin high,” anyway? When my friend asked me repeatedly over time “Why don’t you run a 5k with us?” I consistently responded with a perfectly guilt-free “Thanks, no.” It’s not that I’m a total couch potato or even that I’m not physically fit. Neither is t
