Ash Grounded

I started being a little more proactive about taking photos.  Here are a couple from last week. 

 

After a sunny week in Copenhagen, Friday morning was filled with disappointment.  Volcanos ruined my weekend plans and I don't like it.  I had plans to visit England for a couple days for a reunion, but the universe decided otherwise.  Katie, a Brit I fondly call one of my closest friends, was having a going away party in Derby over the weekend before she bids farewell for Australia.  Katie and I met in '07/'08 when she was living in LA.  We continued to keep in touch after she moved back to England, skyping, planning regular visits and met in different travel destinations (including Ibiza and Thailand).  Living 6,000 miles apart, we obviously didn't see each other as often as we'd like.  When I decided to move to Copenhagen, I was thrilled with the thought of living so close to Katie.  Only shortly after, I learned Katie had also made some big life decisions and is now moving to Australia NEXT WEEK to be with her boyfriend.  We planned a Derby reunion before she moves over 9,000 miles away.  Only this...

stood in our way.  Flights all around Europe were/are still canceled.  I guess this visit wasn't meant to be.  This must mean I have to visit Australia now instead.  

Being ash grounded, I had to regroup and sort out what to do with my weekend in Copenhagen.  I activated my new Danish number this week and feel officially connected again.  With my new phone bringing an increased sense of independence, I made Friday and Saturday night plans with girlfriends, both new and old.  Friday night, after a sushi dinner, I went with one of Pedro's former co-worker to the Huset House to listen to some live music.  It was some pretty chilled out jazz music as it was still fairly early in the night.  There were bands lined up to play round the clock until late Saturday night.  These Danes like to party all night.  I parted ways with Abilia, met some girlfriends at a cozy little bar in the city center and then we wandered to a little hole-in-the-wall bodega.  It was a really nice night of catching up and relaxed conversation.  

Saturday night, I went out with a couple new girlfriends to a posh bar in the city.  They played very good dancing music, so true to form, I displayed some of my best moves for my new friends.  Said moves were well documented and, again, I like to think that's a sign of approval.  The bar was a bit expensive though - around $27 for a cocktail - so I was very pleased with myself for the aggressive pre-drinking that took place.  In an effort to manage my unemployment fund, this will definitely be a repeated strategy for Copenhagen nightlife outings.  I congratulated myself by dancing on the podium.  Celebration + Cardio = Happiness.  

English breaky and city tour.  Sunday morning, Pedro and I went to Miguel's for an English brunch and took a leisurely 2+ hour walk around the city.  This time I brought my camera.

On our street, I spotted my initials on the sidewalk.  I think that means I belong here.  

We walked most of the city and stopped at this church for some photos.

Pedro getting romantic at Gefjon fountain.

Norse mythology states that Norse Goddess Gefjon was best known for creating the island of Zealand, by turning her four sons into oxen so she could plough the land.  Here she is, ploughing her land with her oxen.

We passed through the royal square and saw the changing of the guards. 

Electric cars :) 

The boys lead the way.

In the city center with my mellon. 

This followed with another big pasta dinner.  This type of eating is pushing me to drastic measures...  I went shopping yesterday and bought these.

Now, I'm a runner.  Or at least I'm trying to be a runner.  I've actually never laced up shoes for a run on my own.  Without being forced to by a coach or a drill sargent in some of the several boot camp classes I've taken, running has never made sense to me.  I just think... there's no one chasing me, why go so fast?  Calm down and take a walk.  All that pounding can't be good for your joints either.  Even living steps from the boardwalk in California, I would rather walk twice or three times as long to opt out of running.  Now, I'm almost 30 and have decided to torture myself.  


This morning, Pedro was trying to pump me up for my new hobby and pointed out a nice loop around a lake nearby.  He said it wasn't that long of a run and was super close.  Feeling confident, I pumped up the music and sorted through my new gear.  He left with a smile and some encouraging words... "Run, Forest, Run!"  If he would have seen me out there, he might not have been so proud.  But I blame him, because after looking at Google Maps, it appears the loop is 5 miles long.  That's a bit aggressive day one.  I'm not quite there yet and should be starting one mile at a time. 

The first big run started off badly.  My ankles had zero strength and I felt like a baby must feel when they're taking their first steps.  I'm sure this reflected well for my form.  Only because I was surrounded by other actual runners, I pushed through and somehow my ankles started to eventually feel stronger.  This must be the endorphins kicking in, which seem like more of a necessity rather than a bonus for running.  Still, I couldn't get the thought out of my head that I must have lost my mind to pick up this new hobby and that no one was, in fact, chasing me.  I still have a lot of perfecting to do before I blog about my progress again.  I learned this morning that (1) running makes me spit and (2) I'm a total failure at trying to look semi-cool while spitting.  I ended my run with an unhappy red face covered with spit.  Exhibit A: 

The good news is, I'm dressed in all black, covered from head to toe, and disguised with a hat and glasses.  This is exactly how I like to exercise in public.  Like a criminal.