Home, sweet suitcase

Before heading out to Australia to join up with Darren this winter, one of the best pieces of advice that I received was from the wise Bobby McGee. He told me that I need to make a home wherever I find myself, even if I am living out of a suitcase. My guess is that, after years of working with international runners and triathletes, he has witnessed some athletes be more at peace with the itinerant lifestyle than others. Those who are able to adapt to their surroundings and feel at home will invariably be happier than the homesick, angst-ridden athletes. Not surprisingly, a happy athlete will train and race better than an unhappy one.

I’ve certainly taken Bobby’s advice to heart, as I’ve been out of the U.S. for 7 out of the past 8 months. I’ll be leaving my latest “home” of Davos, Switzerland in a few days and have been surprised how mixed my emotions are about this prospect. Sure, I’ll be glad to get out of Davos before the snow falls in earnest (we woke up to blanket of snow on August 31st!) and to finally meet my niece, Ingrid. It will also be nice to pay a reasonable amount for a coffee, as $5 seems a bit steep for a latte, and to be able to order it without amusing the cashier with my attempts at broken German. I have so much to look forward to when I return to the U.S., but I’m returning with the knowledge that I will miss this little Alp town.

Athletes who have a particularly successful training camp will occasionally attribute their success to their training location, imbuing it with a quasi mystical power (the same thing happens with success at particular race venues too). While I’ve managed to get in some really good training days in Davos, I’ve spend far too much time in my nun flat at Spinnelenweg 2, trying to keep insanity at bay while trying to wait out injury, sickness and overtraining (yes, it has been a rough summer). If anything, I should be grateful to leave Davos and any negative training-related associations! No matter how rough it has been for me, however, my feelings about this place have remained as warm and fuzzy as a braunvieh’s ear.

My happiness in Davos goes beyond triathlon to something much bigger. When I wake up in the morning, I hear the bells of the cows being lead out of the barn and open my window to see the day breaking on the Alps. It doesn’t take much for me to realize how incredibly lucky I am to be able to live in a town like this and to be able to call these trails and roads my “office” (to say nothing of the ridiculously good Davoser bakeries). I think that it is this gratitude that allows me to see past the frustrations of training and the distance from my family and to be able to make a happy home out of a suitcase and a humble flat in a beautiful, yet unfamiliar, country. Either that, or I’m experiencing the draw of my true calling as a Swiss cowherd... I guess that if the triathlon thing doesn’t work out, I can always start practicing my yodeling and invest in a sweet Alpenhorn!