Eurotripping

I typed this in the Heathrow airport when I had 8 hours to kill.

European Study Abroad/Backpacking

Well, it’s just about over. My epic, spiritual, random, pricey, learned time studying at Oxford, England, and exploring the European landscape beyond. It wasn’t easy—I’d say I slept at least one hour less nightly on average than I would have in my usual summer routine. I also ran less (despite the impeccable routes around Oxford) and ate considerably more. As you may have gathered above it was worth it though—well worth it. Here’s why, as well as what I learned, by region visited:

1.      First some overall observations: Honestly, British culture (and even European culture) is not that much different than ours. Here’s what I specifically noticed.

a.       Driving on the left side of the road presents difficulties for foreign pedestrians. This proved particularly troublesome when the roads went back to the US system on my mid-program journey to Latvia.

b.      More diversity in languages spoken. Not just in Oxford, but everywhere I went in Europe. Diversity of race/ethnicity to a lesser degree. There seemed to be a lot of Scandanavian/German/French/Spanish/Italian folks no matter where I went.

c.       Trash. People like to kick and machine it off the sidewalk and road. Also small, tarped, neighborhood dumpster systems and horribly futile recycling bins.

d.      Food. It’s greasier than American food believe it or not. More grub is fried, and not just the fish and chips. Also beans and roasted tomatoe with breakfast is alright.

e.       Tax is included in the displayed price. This made cash transactions more efficient.

f.       Public transportation. It seems like a good idea, although their gas is 2.5 times the price as ours so it makes more sense economically. The buses/coaches were better value than the trains although I’d recommend everyone go on at least one train ride through the country or along the coast if possible.

g.      Small cars. I only saw 3 or 4 pickup trucks abroad. One was a Chevy in Scotland with the steering wheel on the left side of the vehicle. You bring an SUV over there and you’re a god. Although you won’t be able to find anywhere to park.

h.      Also bikes. Many more people ride bikes, and they ride them more dangerously. Ever see Premium Rush? That’s business people’s daily commutes.

i.        Reverence for nature. More parks, more people interacting with animals (wild and domesticated), more foot/bike paths, more paddling etc.  Probably my favorite aspect about the county.

j.        Theaters assign you a seat, which creates problems when two separate parties try to sit together, apparently.

k.      Picnics. People have ‘em a lot when there’s good weather, and they have ‘em on the ground, not at a table.

2.      Scotland – My first introduction to foreign culture other than that of Canada. I did walk around London a bit before taking the 11 hour Megabus ride up there, but Edinburgh, Scotland was the first place I thoroughly checked out while overseas. The castle was nice, from the outside; I couldn’t go in due to my enormous backpack(s) I was lugging around. The food was even nicer. Bacon wraps with BBQ sauce for $2.25 equivalent. Foot and a half long sausage with onions, mushrooms, garlic and peppers on toasted roll for $6. Even the hostel I stayed in on night one (Haggis Hostel: it was late, around 2:00 am, and out of desperation) had the makings of an excellent breakfast. I didn’t cook it, but some folks also staying there did, including guys from, wouldn’t you know it, Syracuse, NY, and Tel Aviv, Israel. These were the first folks I met abroad.

My favorite part about Scotland, however, was the coming together of three separate independent events; that is, my arrival in Edinburgh, rare sunny, warm weather, and the 2013 Summer Solstice. No I didn’t check out the Druid festival at Stonehenge like I maybe should of, but I did the next best thing. On Friday, June 21 I climbed the mountain overlooking Edinburgh in the Pentlands Regional Park, study abroad supplies and all, and set up camp. See, it is legal to camp anywhere in Scotland as long as the campsite is not located on fenced-in property, but it is especially legal to camp in a wilderness park. That evening I had a view of the entire city, countryside, incoming planes at eye level, salty harbor and ocean horizon beyond, all on the longest day of the year, all to myself on top of a Scottish peak (well, except for the sheep). To cap it all off, the next morning, as if by fate, a bus was waiting for me at the entrance to the park, meaning I didn’t have to trudge the 3-5 miles back to the city as I had done in reverse the day before.

3.      Oxford – Of course I have to include our home base on here! The housing at Sommerville college was better than I could have hoped for. Full room w/sink all to myself. Large kitchen and two bathrooms in our suite. The city itself was ancient. It had this formidable feel but at the same time emitted a casual vibe that showed it was geared towards the present generation of students and tourists. And tourists there were many. As a fellow program attendee said, it’s like an alien world in Star Wars. A crowded agglomeration of all sorts of cultures and people banded together by curiosity.

The streets were cobbled and stone-lain, which made for tough running, but this was made up for with the natural paths and park areas, of which there was plenty. A good 30-40% of Oxford was open space dedicated to people’s recreation or nature preservation. And all of it was runnable. I soaked in its avian-strewn boardwalks, scenic canal/river towpaths, soft muddy trails and bucolic fringes at full gallop or a leisurely stroll, alone or in groups of all sizes. A few of us even had the gall to brave the River Thames, because, after all, the good weather did not end at Scotland. It was sunny and warm for roughly 4 out of the 5 weeks I was in the UK. This was apparently the reverse of the normal proportion of fair weather days in the usual British summer. In other words, we were blessed to be able to walk the town sans rain jacket or cross through the countryside without boots. Apparently we had opposite the luck of the previous year’s group.

The Turf was my favorite pub, closely followed by the Eagle and Child. The former gained notoriety after Bill Clinton claimed to smoke but “not inhale” marijuana there as a student. The latter was the stomping grounds of J. R. Tolkien and Lewis Carrol and had damn good trivia. I’ve got to say Magdalen College was my favorite school for its nature preserve stubbornly located so close to the town center. The Pitt Rivers museum was by far the coolest attraction in the city (it’s a museum organized by subject type, rather than by culture or time period. So there’s an arrangement of shoes, swords, gambling equipment etc. containing all different cultures in one). The city in general felt very safe even with our dozens upond dozens of trips outside Sommerville, I still feel like we hadn’t explored this relatively small city fully.

4.      London, and surrounding area other than Oxford – We started out with a trip to Stonehenge, which was uneventful but awe-inspiring nonetheless. I was amazed at the lack of security at this world heritage site, and as I said before, disappointed I did not visit on the Summer Solstice when visitors are allowed to actually go right up to and touch the rocks. Avenbury allows you to do so, as well as the same with the sheep, apparently. London was the largest city I had been to and the first true world city, so it was certainly a lot to take in. Without any semblance of a grid system, it was easy to get lost, as my running buddy and I discovered on the day of the British 10K. The museums were good, the sights were alright. I’m not going to lie the only ones I really noticed during the race was the London Eye and Big Ben, the two most well-known of the city. The Eye is certainly worth waiting for. I somehow missed Darwin’s tomb in Westminister Abbey; he’s probably the most well-known dude buried there.

We also saw the most incredible productions on  this trip. Billy Elliot masterethe art of juxtaposition, Matilda dazzled with the hammer-throwing, cross-gender Trunch portrayal, and Titus Andronicus was a gore fest well worth the build up. Stratford Upon Avon, Shakespeare’s birth/death place, is kind of a mini Oxford almost, and provided the most interesting birds seen over the course of the trip. Blenheim Palace was cool but I wish we could have explored the sprawling ground a little more thoroughly. Finally, Dover Castle and The White Cliffs definitely capped off the trip. I certainly think they would provide one of the greatest runs of a lifetime.

5.      Riga, Latvia - My and Daniel’s choice for the long weekend, it was a necessary experience. It was my first visited country to not have English as a primary or secondary language (it is widely spoken, but technically thirdly important after Latvian and Russian). We were lucky to have great hosts who showed us the best places to eat, drink, and swim. The last part refers to the beach, which was unbelievable in itself. To get such great weather in North Eastern Europe, let alone England, was great timing, as was the fact that it was Jessica’s 21^st birthday. We also took an enriching train ride and explored one of the largest covered markets in Europe. It was composed of four large aircraft hangers converted into markets by type; meat, vegetables/fruits, miscellaneous, and seafood. The sights and smells were incredible. Also everything, especially alcohol, was incredibly cheap here. This was a welcome break from the pricey British Isles. The hostel (Fun Friendly Fast Frank’s or something to that effect) was also very inexpensive and very good, possibly even better than the nice Oxford hostel I stayed in.

6.      Ireland – The grand finale of my trip took me to the Emerald Isle. Arriving in Dublin, I walked around and soaked in the culture, one similar to but definitely distinct from English culture. There was some anti-English sentiment (Radio ad: “They stole our Wednesdays”, Telepathic Old Man:  “They think they’re all prim and proper, but they don’t know sheeeeet”- he also guessed I was from Raleigh when I told him I was from NC) but overall it was almost as if the cultures of the previous two countries I had visited (UK and Latvia) had been crossed. Old Irish language translations were printed on all government sponsored signs and publications. Alcohol was consumed in vast quantity. And the food was possibly more savory and multifarious than even the English’s was. I’m sorry but Guinness is terrible (Old Man agreed with me here – “mudwater”)

It was here in Ireland that I squeezed in some of the best backpacking of my lifetime. It wasn’t just the fact that I fit everything into my relatively lightweight daypack (Thank’s RyanAir). It was the incredible scenery I took in in the Wicklow Mountains. Located only an hour’s coach ride south of Dublin, these natural beauties cover the largest upland area in the country and are largely undeveloped (albeit they are heavily deforested in parts). It is easy to escape the cluster of visitors around the National Park’s headquarters and simply head up into the hills. Up there, there is mainly just sheep, deer and conifer trees. I snapped what I believe is the greatest nature photography of my life and took home the knowledge of two of the greatest secret campsites on the planet. I’m also considering the 80 mile Wicklow Way as a possible long distance hiking trip.

See photos and captions for more! That is when I get around to uploading them.

NC State's Krispy Kreme Challenge: 3rd Time's a Charm, Or Not

It is finished. Three hours ago the gun went off at the start of my 3rd ever Krispy Kreme Challenge, an ESPN-reported, 5-mile charity race for the NC Children's Hospital. It's slightly-crazy competitors have to chomp down a dozen donuts at the halfway point of the there-and-back sprint from the Memorial Belltower on campus to Raleigh's iconic Krispy Kreme. It's NC State's undisputed most well-known tradition, having started as a dare between a couple of undergraduates in 2004. With a time 52:42 I technically completed the race as as a successful "Challenger" (versus those non-commital "Casual Runners"). Having done this twice before, I thought it would be easier than ever. It wasn't. The biting wind cut through the 30-something degree air. People crashed and burned. I even threw up. This is my story.

It started with me and Kyle, a long-time friend and fellow townhouse renter, driving to NCSU's campus. We would be splitting up at the starting line so I could begin towards the front with fellow members of the club cross country team and he would meet up with his friends and brother. This was the third year for both of us, so we were well prepared. Dressing in easily-shed layers and carrying cell phones to meet up with each other after the race, we felt like veterans. Although experience is a big mental advantage for the overall race, it does little to help cope with the physical challenges the KKC provides.

Even being a seasoned runner provides only a slight advantage against the rest of the field. Packed together like sardines about 20 feet back from the starting line (the best we could do in the 8000+ crowd), we discussed our race goals. The highest placing team member from the previous year, Daniel, had placed 7th and ran a 32:04 against a tough field in relatively amiable weather. Several guys hoped to best his performance, especially now that Rodger, our track coordinator, was keeping track of best-times, both for the season and all-time. Regardless of how fast you ran the 2.5 miles each way, however, your time ultimately came down to your donuts eating ability. The previous year I put them down in a painfully long 19 minutes. I hoped to destroy that statistic and finish them in under 10 minutes, giving me a shot at being in the first 50-100 finishers.

The crowd was as diverse as ever. We were elbow-to-elbow with a pair of Duke student's, one of which donned a Cameron Crazies T-shirt. Posse's of UNC - Chapel Hill students were scattered around, approximately 75% of them sporting baby blue toboggans. Then there were the characters- people who take on a different (or maybe their actual) identity by dressing up to stand out amongst the crowd. There were the superheros: Iron man, Link (young or old? couldn't tell), Captain America, and a host of others that were less mainstream including rugged old men in patriotic garb, stout women with colorful yet powerful personas, a pair of full-costume (I'm talking Disney World level here) gerbils, and a Pac-man to scale. I'm talking a home-made partial circle of close to 5 feet diameter and two feet deep (even better- there was an equally awesome spooky ghost behind him). Finally there were the Krispy Kreme Challenge Spartans, a group of ripped athletic guys who wear only speedos and a cape and who don giant cardboard shields. I was invited to join them (via the  official Facebook group) but alas, my stature is far less than spartan and so I kept my usual spot with the skinny runners.

After a surprisingly not-chilly 15 minutes of waiting, we were off. The crowd is too large to warrant a microphone announcement so the gun start can sneak up on you. It went off at exactly 8:30 but even at our relatively good starting point it took 12 seconds to get to the chip-timed line that officially started our times. Some of the folks at the back have reported up to 4-minutes of shuffling to the starting line. Once you get out of the chute, at least if you are towards the front, it's a fast downhill start. This year the organizers attempted to make pace groups (Two exactly: a 5 minute mile group at the front and a "6-9"minute mile group twenty feet back. These groupings were a good idea in theory, but probably not worth the trouble in reality).

It was great to run past fellow Wolfpackers, some of which I knew and yelled out to, instilling a sense of comradely and pride at the thought of all of us doing this incredibly stupid activity together. I started slow compared to the rest of the XC team, but was probably in the first one or two hundred runners. Many of these folks were casual runners and some were banditing. My GPS watch put my pace at between 5:30 and 6:00 for the first mile and 6:04 overall for the first leg. I slowed down massively going up the large Peace Street hill, even being passed by what seemed to be a high school girl in a pink tutu. That motivated me to pick up the pace until I ran through the volunteer gauntlet handing out boxes of donuts. Just like in the Easter Egg hunts of childhood, it is most advantageous to run to the end and resist picking up the reward at the first available opportunity. No need to run with the box for an extra 100 meters.

I joined the team, which was settled in at its usual spot. Some folks had nearly half the box finished when I arrived but others were just chomping down on their first donuts. The ground was relatively clean at this point, but wouldn't be for long. I started on the first doughnut. My plan was to pace myself at one per 30 seconds, but I quickly realized that would not be sustainable. I did my usual, squishing them into groups of three or four. They were cold and cakey. Nothing at all like the hot morsels I hand actually enjoyed on a practice run on Wednesday. "You've got to dunk them in water" somebody said. I tried, and gagged at the mushy mush I had created: and this was only after four or five! My ten minute goal came and went with only 7 or so donuts down.Things were not looking good.

If you were to graph the amount of donut ingested versus time, it would be a logarithmic function. I quickly tapered as the gag reflex kicked in. Apparently ten minutes is the amount of time you can eat any amount of food without feeling full; I disagree, but regardless I was past the 10-minute mark. At 15 minutes I think I had half of a stack of four left. I finished in 20:30, meaning it took me 5:30 to finish the equivalent of 2 donuts. The ending was rough. I knew it would be from experience, but this was worse than expected. I seemed to be gaining about 3 minutes of eating time each Challenge since Freshman year.

With that, me and Pomeroy, the only other remaining challenger from our original circle of mastication, set off together for the last leg. The person who checked to make sure our boxes were empty was Caiti, a friend standing in front of the giant pile of sugary disposed cardboard. She had helped organize this year's challenge, specifically the water stations, and she cheered us on. That, combined with Pomeroy's brazen shouting of "PUSH THROUGH THE PEOPLE" spurred me to sprint around the block lined with people offering additional doughnuts and on down the Peace Hill. We dodged and weaved around great packs of hobby joggers, baby strollers, little kids,  beefy slow-moving men and folks being dragged down by costumes. Passing people at the rate we were would probably indicate world-record pace in a normal race, but this was the KKC, and a significant amount of these people were casual runners or failed challengers. As the terrain switched to the St. Mary's Hill uphill, I saw a person almost eat the sidewalk. The glaze-induced stupor was getting at a fair amount of competitors, including myself. For the first time ever, I gagged during the race.

A few minutes later, over the main hill but now striding up Hillsborough Street to the finish, I saw a 10 feet long squiggle (it literally did loop-dee-loops) of vomit in the middle of the road and almost lost my own doughnuts. Glancing at my watch, I realized that at the pace I was going I would not meet my goal of running under 50 minutes, now matter how hard I kicked it at the finish. I settled into a 7 minute pace and a smooth rhythm to keep from puking. After rounding the traffic circle I crossed the line and was finished. I staggered back to Holiday Hall, our meeting place, and spied Pomeroy letting loose the calories he had absorbed 20 minutes before. Technically, throwing up was only grounds for disqualification for challengers during the race. Afterwards, it was fair game.

I joined him. It was only the third time I'd thrown up in the previous 12 years, and the first time ever it was self-initiated. My justification for doing so was that I was on the verge of it anyway, and my body knew what was best for it. It was loud. Later on I would run into another friend of mine in the Spartan brigade. He had tripped and skinned one knee and bruised the other, forcing him to walk on the way back. The challenge is tough.

Matt, another member of the club team, had cheered me on a significant distance down Hillsborough Street, indicating he had finished quite early (13th). Rodger would take home the fastest finish of the day, however, for the team or any NC State student. He grabbed 4th, a 3-place improvement over Daniel's finish the year before. Still, it was a minute slower finish than Daniel's time, indicating the challenge had become less competitive, at least at the highest level of competition.

Last year the KKC raised over $150,000 for the Hospital and I imagine it topped that this year. It's a great event for both charity and for getting people introduced to running events. It's also NCSU's greatest tradition, despite it being only 9 years old. I know I'll run it next year, which will make it once for each year at NC State. If you haven't before and are curious about it, I recommend you run it as well. If the challenge sound's like too much, be a casual runner, or at just give it a shot. There is no throw up patrol. There's no mile splits. And there's no material prize for the winner. It 's all for fun, charity, challenge and tradition.

And a free 2400 calorie breakfast.

Why I Camp

Last night by dad and I decided to go on a somewhat on-the-fly father-son camping trip. During the many quality breaks in sleeping time I was graced with during the night, I did some deep thinking on the nature of my enjoyment of camping. Continuing with the explanatory pattern of these blog-posts, I will explain (or attempt to explain) my passion for (read: "obsession with") camping. This will be done in bite-sized talking points that relate to our experience last night:

1.  Escape. At four o'clock on the last Saturday of 2012, the cold night of winter was rapidly approaching and my dad, my dog Nikki, and I cruised up the dirt road near the Pisgah Forest riding stables. As we rounded a the familiar bend we discovered that our intended camping spot was taken, as well as its backup, presumably by the same group. With a rush of anguish we ventured forth into unknown territory, hoping another camping spot would present itself. As chance would have it, we discovered a spot with no "No Camping" or "Camp Not Here" signs. Upon inspection, it became apparent that we would be its first visitors since at least when the last round of leaves dumped down from the trees and onto the fire pit. In a sense, we were blazing new ground, forced into action by the change of plan and increasing Buckwheat Knob's car camping capacity by 50%. Still, we were well out of ear or even whistle shot of the other group, and no other reasonable campsites existed on the remaining stretch of road to highway 276. We had left the concerns of civilization behind us and the mountain would be just ours. This would be my home for 1/7300 of my young life.

2.  Sense of adventure. After establishing camp, we took a quick hike up the Club Gap trail, ducking some power pylons and skirting an area where somebody had apparently gone chainsaw happy on some trees. After less than 20 minutes of hiking we discovered a cave, wet with a stream pouring over it's opening and legitimately the largest I'd ever seen in Pisgah. We discussed panning for gold and the difficulty of creating the logging roads that crisscrossed the mountains around us. After a two mile round trip hike, we arrived back at the campsite in the dark of night and painstakingly built the fire in the biting cold. It really made me appreciate that fact we had a combustion engine attached to a four wheel drive vehicle that could make it back to our warm home in about 40 minutes.

"Imagine being a pioneer, having to do this day in and day out," I asked rhetorically.
 
3. Food. With the fire's crucial warmth we were able to prepare a dinner in relative comfort. Luckily, the good folks at Bi-Lo had done most of the work for us- two sets of "gourmet" beef patties of bacon "chedda" and "blue and black" (blue cheese and ground pepper). We did hammer out some home-grown sweet potatoes by wrapping them in tinfoil and roasting them in the coals. Despite a melted spatula and a rather crispy exterior on the taters, it was a great meal. The human body's increased demand for heat-giving calories in the chilly outdoors combined with the constant activities of the camp really does lead to a deeper appreciation for life's most basic of needs. Plus, you can't ever go wrong with a dozen soft frosted, post-Christmas clearance cookies.

4.  Camaraderie. Or maybe Fellowship. The former sounds distinctly Soviet but I believe it to be the most accurate word to describe the feeling of togetherness folks get while roughing it. The latter is suitable as well, and brings to mind a sort of spiritual vibe that can certainly be felt when the right group of individuals converges on a campfire. My dad and I certainly felt both last night, especially once the night's tasks had been completed and all there was left to do was talk around the campfire. Sometimes, when there is not a forty mph wind blowing through camp that forces you to utilize all four sleeping bags you brought with you, the conversation will extend well into the night even after everyone has retreated to their tents. That is the mark of an extra successful night of fellowship.

5. Dreams. When temperatures are so low that your dog squeezes into the crevice between sleeping areas to stay warm, it becomes difficult to sleep for an extended, or even reasonable, uninterrupted amount of time. For some reason, at least for me, this leads to even more unusual dreams than usual. For example, on this particular night, I dreamed that I had returned to my former middle school to stand in the cafeteria line. However upon arrival at the cash register, instead of numerals on the keypad we used to enter our account numbers, there were pictures of condiments. As in mustard, ketchup, pickles, and even olives, the one food I will not eat. Frantically, I scrambled to translate numerals corresponding to the account number I hadn't thought about in over six years into the language of food pictographs. When I expectedly failed at this, I was graciously given the meal for free. Then my tray disappeared. I don't know what it means.

6.  Contrast. The occasional misery and all-around uncomfortableness of camping more than makes up itself in the increased appreciation for the comforts of home. Just like how someone growing up poor finds themselves better with money later in life compared to somebody who has always lived in affluence, the camper knows how easily we have it at home. Don't get me wrong, the experienced camper will eventually acclimate to any discomfort, and at the same time learn how to come prepared for anything. When we woke at 8:30 the next morning from our restless slumber, it was windier than ever and our fire had been blown completely out. We decided to bail without cooking breakfast.

"I wouldn't want to be a pioneer," my dad said as we drove off.

Why Oxford?

 Why did I apply for this study abroad program? This innocent looking application question dives into the depths of one's soul and can essentially be answered in one of two ways.

Short answer: Because it's Oxford.

Long answer (copy and pasted from statement of purpose; you don't have to read it to get the gist of this long-overdue post):

 "There are a whole host of motivations pushing and pulling me towards studying abroad at Oxford this summer. First off I had hoped to go to an English speaking country. I believe having an obviously firm grasp on the language will enable me to have meaningful and memorable conversations with UK citizens. It will also enable me to absorb more information and utilize the experience to the maximum. As a university community, Oxford serves as a crossroads for diverse groups of people and ideas. This environment of learning and experiential exploring fits in well with my personal outlook, and will help me grow as a student, citizen, and person.

I specifically hoped to go to the UK partly because of its significance as the home of a plurality of my ancestors. This would likely be a great opportunity to do some much-needed genealogy research on the behalf of the Duckett family. Additionally, my cousin participated in a similar program also at In the UK, and convincingly conveyed to me the importance of studying abroad. Moreover, I am extremely awed at the opportunity to study at the second oldest institution of higher learning on Earth. Finally, I have always had an interest in British history and culture, primarily because of hugely important part in American history and culture. The fact that this is NCSU's oldest study abroad program only reinforces the notion that I must go to Oxford.

Studying abroad will enable me to earn six credit hours towards the completion of the University Scholars program. Although though this is the only degree requirement that will be fulfilled by my participation, the courses offered will augment my education greatly. I entered NC State fresh from high school as a 34-credit hour sophomore. I had a paltry six hours or so of required GEP course requirements remaining, and I hastily took care of that my freshman and sophomore year to fulfill the US diversity and interdisciplinary perspectives requirements. As a result, I have not had the impetus to take either an English or history class while in college. Despite dedicating myself to engineering, I consider these disciplines important, even essential, to the University education. This study abroad program would enable me to explore these overlapping subject areas in possibly the most appropriate context imaginable.

As for career plans, I believe studying abroad will give me an important global perspective that should be strongly encouraged in every workplace. The experience of living abroad will help me develop new ideas and perspectives that could help me down the line in the competitive opportunities offered in the Triangle and beyond. As it should be, I am unsure of what exactly I want to do with my life at this point, so I cannot say how my career plans will be affected. Although the courses will not likely strongly impact my future line of work, the entire experience should provide time for me to self-study, meet new people, and gain life direction. This could very well shoot me in a direction I had not considered prior to studying abroad.

Lastly, the wide range of field trips and activities offered on this program fit in well with my influential feelings of  wanderlust. I have always been ruggedly independent, and as soon as I gained personal transportation and funds as a teenager I was planning and leading outdoor outings and road trips around the Southeast and beyond. The ability to spend over a month in a foreign country (especially in spite of not having done so before) would be a temporary travel experience peak in the scope of my young life. Finally, throughout these college years I have taken a liking to intellectual exercise and the acquisition of knowledge. I feel that this study abroad opportunity will serve as an intellectual climax of sorts, or maybe simply the start of a whole new chapter of my education."

Alright I may have made that purposely ungodlyly small to discourage you from actually reading the entire thing, but if you did: Thank you, you didn't have to! My point here is to highlight the difference between logical (no spell check, "logical" does not use L's like "llama" does) and emotional decision drivers.

You see the thing is, I didn't necessarily apply to this costly program initially for all the reasons listed in the Bible-esque mass of text above (if you missed it here's a summary: this trip provides positive utility in virtually every notable aspect). No, I applied for the reason not elaborated on in the short answer. Truth is, I mainly applied for the same reason George Mallory climbed Everest: Because it's there. I felt a strange force pulling me to this program starting around the time the informational mass email hit my inbox and building stronger after the information session that I would have missed had I not set a Google Calender reminder. Essentially, deep down, I simply wanted to embrace spontaneity, go across the pond, spend a month in a foreign land at a hugely significant place, and gain some knowledge for nothing but it's own sake. Don't get me wrong, I completely believe all the things I said in that statement, but they evolved slowly as necessary logical justification for my emotional impulse. Had I not been required to make such an explanatory statement, I probably would have done so anyway, mentally, verbally, in similar blog form, or otherwise.

So cheerio! Have fun applying for amazing things and remember the two hemispheres that influence your decision making. Ol' lefty, and Ol' righty.

I'm referring to brains. 

Last but not least, a terrible thing happened today. Possibly the most terrible thing in quite some time. Pray for the victims of all sorts from this terrible tragedy. 

Why I Run

I feel like this is a pretty good explanatory topic, because it may seem crazy to devote an hour or so of nearly every day of my life to such a pursuit. Well, here's a personal perspective of why I do it:

Well actually, first, a little explanation of why I did it in the first place, because I knew nothing about running when I first started:

• It was peer pressure. Honestly. Positive peer pressure. It exists. I was sort of thinking about running track towards the end of my middle school career, so when my freshman year of high school rolled around, it was an easy decision to join the track team after several of my friends (who were on the team) started encouraging me to start running.

Why I continue it today:

•  Cheap and convenient fitness. Straight up. It's a lot easier for me to just pull on a pair of shorts and some shoes and run out the door than to get a pricey gym membership, or even worse, space-and-money-eating home gym equipment. 
• Cardio benefits.  One of the core rules in Zombieland, it applies to real life as well. As the key component of fitness, being a runner will give you an edge in most any other sport, even if you aren't so talented in it. Soccer, Ultimate, full court basketball. Feeling tired? Not as much as everyone else is.
• The only thing I have to buy is a pair of shoes. I buy a $60 pair of shoes once every 4 to 6 months. When that pair seems to be getting run down, I buy another and the old pair becomes my walk around shoes. With the barefoot running craze, one day running may have virtually zero input costs. Shirts, shorts, under armor - buy these things once and they last almost forever, I've found.
• Social aspect. It's easy to meet new people as a runner. There are a ton of running groups, clubs, and races out there that are great opportunities to meet new people. Also, it's easy to reinforce friendships with people you've known for a while. Nothing to do? Call 'em up, go for a run.
• Transportation aspect. Now this is something I'm slowly getting more and more into. In Raleigh, it's a lot easier to just go for a run to knock out some errands. Saves gas, efficiently combines things you would normally do separately. I mainly grab snacks on my way back from runs.
• Connection to the outdoors. Alright, so this might not be the most concrete reason on the list, but it's a really big reason I run. Can't get a camping trip together? Ultimate Frisbee game fall through? Just go for a run. I like to go on exploratory runs. I've found that the less you know where you are, the faster and longer you will go. This especially applies to the middle of Pisgah Forest.
• Cuts stress. Running may be the main thing that allowed me to stay sane my Junior and Senior year of high school. Got a huge test in college, worth maybe 40% of your grade? Stressed? Not any more, thanks to those endorphins (chemicals that cause the runner's high).

It could be argued that any cardiovascular centered sport could reap these benefits. Perhaps. But in fifty years do you really see yourself still playing pickup bball with your buddies? That's all I got.

500 Calories/Mile

Alright well my three tests, one day experience is over (it's as bad as it sounds trust me) so I finally have time to write about what everybody else has wrote (or has videocasted live) about - the Krispy Kreme Challenge.

Here's the grizzly recap. So it was my first challenge ever (not my first time running 4.77 miles and downing a dozen donuts at 200 calories a pop, though, under a time limit. see previous blog) and the weather, as you may have heard, was....negative. I don't mind running in the rain, and I actually enjoy running in the cold, but combine those things together, and you get downer running weather, or what we had here last Saturday, which is not the way I wanted it.

After arriving at the sopping mob scene, my friend Kyle and I waited around near the starting line for about 45 minutes, half-sheltered beneath the awning of some ancient building on NC State's campus, trying to stay dry. Eventually we joined the club cross country team and snuck onto the starting line of the 7,500-participant race. And when I say joined, I mean we filed through a gap in the fence that almost seemed like it was put there for people like us.

It was well worth it. With thousands at our heels, the energy of the race was amplified with the knowledge that we would be starting with a photo start, squashed amongst the competitive running and eating pros. Soon there was ten minutes until the "gun", then seven, then three, then all too suddenly the time went to zero and the two mile sprint to Krispy Kreme began with the crowd calling the shots (there was no director type figure with a microphone to be seen).

Running to Krispy Kreme was typical of any road race. You run. There are hills. People pass you and you pass people. You get tired.

But then suddenly the uniqueness of the race came right up in my face with the smell of nearly a 100,000 donuts lining the streets. I grabbed my box and dug in.

As it turned out, eating the donuts is a lot harder when they aren't fresh. Also it's a lot harder when they act as sponges and soak up the water and moisture in the air and inflate to twice their weight. I swallowed the 12 creations of flour and sugar (mainly sugar) in about 21 minutes, nine minutes slower than I had done it only two weeks before. And I didn't enjoy it nearly as much.

With my hopes of finishing in the top 50 crushed, I passed through the challenger checkpoint, noticing the largest pile of cardboard trash I had ever seen in my life -and this includes at the dump folks- the empty boxes that formerly held a dozen donuts apiece. Running back, I also passed the most number of people I ever have (must have been a grand or two) in my life. This was a combination of casual runners (people who don't have to eat the dirty dozen) and challengers who ate the donuts faster than me but weren't quite ready for the "running with three pounds of frosting in the gullet" part of the race.

And for all you people that only associate the race with necessary vomiting, I saw none of it. So don't let the rumor scare you off.

I sped the 2.5 miles back in 16 minutes, not bad considering the zig zagging required to do it. My total time was 51 minutes, so I had completed the challenge, eight minutes slower than previously but with much greater satisfaction, because the great thing about the race is that it embodies the American spirit. Yes it could be a largely individualistic, ruthlessly competitive, and extremely extravagant challenge. But it gives a certain personal satisfaction, the knowledge that you helped raised part of the $100,000 for the NC Childrens Hospital, got a free t shirt, 12 donuts, all for under twenty bucks. Plus, it put NC State on the map of great college traditions, unified us as a campus, and allowed everyone to have an awesome time despite the weather.

I'm doing it next year.

A personal Krispy Kreme Challenge and Running in Raleigh

Society corrupts. I affirmed this assertion once again earlier tonight, interestingly a few minutes after I finished running 2.4 miles to Krispy Kreme, eating a dozen you-know-whats, and running back for a grand total of 4.77 miles and 2,400 calories. All in 43 minutes. Kind of foolish and counterproductive I know. And yeah, I'm doing again in two weeks. This was just a trial run.

But this post isn't about the KK Challenge, for those of you who are fortunate enough to know about it-- For those who aren't, it's a charity race in which participants weather through what I described above, held in early February at NC State every year.

This post is about not-so-pleasant people, where they're found, and how much more corrupted homo sapiens are in general in the city.

I think the best examples I have are found in my running experience at State. About seven hours ago, as a matter of fact, my running partner and I discussed all the unpleasant interactions we had during our 30 or so minutes of sprinting through downtown.

My first encounter went like this: I was running the sidewalk behind a girl walking the same way as I when she whipped around, seriously scared, probably groping for some pepper spray. I understand why a young woman walking the city at night would be paranoid, but to my credit, I was wheezing like an Alaskan asthmatic for several seconds before I came within the danger zone.

My friend described a different experience when he passed through that same area several minutes after me. Apparently, a whole gang of clubbers mockingly stared in confusion as he ran by, calling out the fact that we were choosing to be physically active on a Saturday night even though, yes, it was below the 32 mark.

On the return trip through town I got called out my more people, hit on (?) by drunks, and honked at once or twice.

To top it off, at the end of the challenge, we were hanging out in front of one of my personal favorite eating establishments, Wingzone, when somebody who was either more pissed off than they ever had been in their life, or definitely inebriated and should not have been driving, let out a whole string of expletives out a car window criticizing how stupedi we were and how we shouldn't have been running-- because it was cold.

Here's my main point though: I have never received this sort of intense attention running the roads of Hendo, negative or positive. In fact, in my four or so months of being in the big city, I (or the group I was running with) have probably been yelled at twice as much as the rest of my running experience combined. The city, it's a rough place.

So unless I suddenly make Parkour my new passion (because for some reasons freerunners here get all the respect) the mountains will always be my favorite place to do incredibly stupid things.