Of Exercise and Exploration

I was thrilled to wake up at 5:30 am this morning, since what woke me up was sunlight pouring in through the curtains. Spring has arrived in Norway at last! Mother Nature has forgiven me.

Which is why, after sending the boys off to school and putting out a few work-related fires, I put on my shoes and went for a run.

Oh.My.Gawd.

Six months of chocolatey sedatedness have done more damage than I imagined. There was jiggling of body parts I didn't even know could jiggle. And in this country of mountains, even the slightest incline seemed like a Mt. Everest climb.

I eventually managed to run for 25 minutes - with a couple of life-saving breaks thrown in - and I suppose that's OK for the second run this year.

But I clearly have my work cut out for me, and I was so disappointed because my first run - just three days ago - had been much more enjoyable.

Of course, that may have been because it was on a flat surface. Or, more likely, because I got to run past this:



I mean, who wouldn't be able to manage a few minutes of leisurely activity if you got to do it along the Seine, past the Notre Dame in Paris?

Jiggling notwithstanding, Mike and I spent a fabulous 3 days in Paris, as part of my Christmas present. I'd been to Paris a long time ago, and frankly wasn't very impressed with the city, as I found it dirty, crowded and the Parisians rude.

But no more. I now officially 'aime' Paris.



First of all, the buildings look like they've all had major facelifts, or at least undergone serious sandblasting. In addition to the sparkling clean Notre Dame, both the Louvre and the Musee d'Orsay were in impeccable condition, as were the gilded statues that abound in Paris. Perhaps they'd been cleaned in the hopes of being awarded the 2012 Olympics.



What's certain is that Paris is now one of the cleanest European capitals I've been to. Every morning, the garbage receptacles were lined with new, empty bags, and beautiful floral displays could be found on almost every corner.



Furthermore, while Paris is still a huge and busy city, its people couldn't have been friendlier, or more gracious when silly foreigners try to test out their tenous grasp of the French language. You know, like responding with a resounding 'si' instead of a 'oui'. Not that I'd know anything about that!

The weather was variable on our weekend away, but we still managed to make the most of it, visiting all the usual tourist traps...

Sacré-Coeur



Arc de Triomphe



Moulin Rouge



Versailles and its Hall of Mirrors



And of course...



But now it's back to reality, which for me means facing suitcases bursting at the seams. We have one week left in Norway, and I'm not sure there's enough hours in the day to get everything done.

Plus squeeze in a run each day.

I guess I'll be jiggling a little longer...

It's...hilly...in.....Norway!!

Athleticism does not come naturally to me. It is hard work. I am not one of those people who wake up in the morning eager to hit the gym/pool/pavement. That's not me. Nope. Far from it. Instead, I have to push myself to get off the couch. Or have a gym buddy who does the pushing for me (thanks, Morag!).

I do admit that the feeling I have after exercising is one of absolute bliss. There is no better feeling than the one you get when your body has been pushed hard. Or maybe it is just the thought that I do not have to exercise again for another 24 hours. That could be it, but I don't think so - I mean, why else would I keep going back? Oh, yes... my buddy Morag! An intimidating force in her own right! But I digress...

Ever since arriving in Norway, a little voice inside my head has whispered steadily louder about how far away from GoodLife I am. Half around the world! Freedom! No more exercising for a whole 10 months. Lax mornings, lounging around in bed until the kids holler for breakfast. No stinky gym clothes to launder on a daily or semi-daily basis. Yes, freedom indeed!

Not so fast...have you met my husband?! My die hard, born-again exercising fantatic hubby?! Keen, keen, keen...everything you don't want to see at 7 am in the morning. I love him dearly - but I have to admit to cooler feelings when he wakes me up with a "Are you ready to go for a run?" In a weak moment, I apparently agreed that going for a run every day would be a great way to stay in some semblance of physical shape while travelling in Europe, and he is now holding me to it!

Most days I join him...I know it is good for me, and like I said before, I do feel better afterwards. But there is a huge difference between running in Richmond Hill and running in Norway...an unexpected, nasty, geographical difference. There are HILLS here! Everywhere you look, there are hills. And they always seem to be going UP from where I am standing. My legs burn like nothing I have experienced before, my brain screams for oxygen, and my lungs roar back that there is no oxygen left in the world. I pant, I gasp, I heave.

And I try awfully hard not to take it out on my husband. However, as he is chatting happily with me while running, and actually expecting me to respond, it dawns on me that he is not feeling these hills like I am. And his unfairly looooong legs are handling the ups and downs just fine. It is so hard not to come out with a snappy reply. Fortunately for him, on most days my severely oxygen-deprived brain is unable to do so.

I am lucky he still asks me to join him for these runs. And my hope is that if my cardiovascular system ever gets into sufficient shape where I can actually have a conversation with him while running up these hills, I will no longer feel the need to bite his head off! :)