There is a part of me that will always want to register for a planned race – to know the variables I am up against and to gauge my chances against known odds. But, I am also coming to realize that learning to adapt (with a cheerful spirit) to circumstances beyond my control is a race-worthy skill of its own. …
It’s a few nights before school starts in the Czech Republic. My children are sprawled across their beds, breathing soundly. It’s me that can’t sleep. I could blame my restlessness on the mini-heat wave. With temperatures at 30C (again), heading back to school on Monday feels surreal. And, I’m not even the one who’ll be sitting in a classroom.…
Registering to run the Prague May 6th marathon (and its sister half-marathon to be held 4-weeks before), had been a split-second, instinctive decision made on a dark November night, when I was desperate for a tangible goal to guide me through another grey Prague winter. I didn’t want to wait until my children were grown; by that time, I figured my husband would be right – my knees would be shot. I’d have missed my chance.…
Each year in early January, Radek and I sat down to map out our family’s adventures and sync our planners (his electronic, mine a hardbound “student’s planner”) until the following September. With three children and an active lifestyle, laying the framework for our travel adventures required patience, stamina, and the willingness to be flexible.…
Seated alone at a table for two, I looked at the faces of the Czech parents crowded at a long table in front of me. I wondered (not for the first time since moving to the Czech Republic 16 years ago) what I had gotten myself into. Moreover, how was I going to get myself out of it, without embarrassing myself or my teenage daughter.…
When my children were younger, hiking was simple. Sure, we had extra things to pack (milk, diapers, changes of clothes), naptimes to work around, and the occasional temper tantrum to defuse. But, my kids never seemed happier than when they were traipsing through the woods, stick in hand. Now, that they are almost teenagers, it’s not as easy.…
Dear Czechia, I hope you don’t mind me calling you Czechia. The Czech Republic seems too formal for a letter between friends. When the hoopla about finding a short name for you made the headlines, I vetoed the idea. So did my neighbors. Now, your shortened name has grown on me. Go figure. Czechia sounds welcoming, like the nickname, Emilka, that my husband’s family gave me. Emilka is much more pleasant than Emil, which is what our postwoman calls me. (No matter…