Passions – ⋆ Second Gen Desi ⋆

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One of my long-standing passions has been animals, and it’s something I documented in one of my earlier posts on this blog.

I never had a dog growing up, but that certainly did not mean I didn’t like giving out pets to lil loafs of family friends!

Before leaving for Italy in mid-2020, I had spent many months volunteering at a shelter in Orange County, as well as walking dogs through Wag!. While part of my Italy day-dreaming included me continuing my volunteering efforts in Milan, or better yet, adopting a dog of my very own, I knew that with all the other things life had in store for me from mid-2020 to now didn’t leave room for a doggo.

But I saw a crazy amount of doggos in Italy. It’s a country that is pretty friendly when it comes to taking your dog out anywhere and everywhere…

While I would have loved to have volunteered at a shelter in Milan, the lack of resources, volunteering/fostering opportunities, and accessibility to the very few shelters that existed were all hurdles. But at least it wasn’t a far-off dream, especially when moving to Austin began to materialize…

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When I first started volunteering at the animal shelter in Orange County, I truly thought I was a “small dog” person. When I was younger, I used to picture myself with a Pomeranian, a “purse dog” a la 2005. But my shelter volunteering experience helped me realize I am a “big dog” person, with a soft spot for Australian cattle dogs/blue heelers.

As I began to settle in Austin, I also had to go through a rough life change. Going into June, I was so severely impacted by an incident that I wasn’t even sure if I could be happy in Austin anymore, a doubt which I hated to harbor.

Then I figured, perhaps now was the time to bring a shelter dog into my life. A puppa to help me heal, while I could heal him or her. And as luck would have it, a “teen mom” had entered the doors of Austin Pets Alive, a local, well-known shelter in Austin.

Her name was Celeste, a bright-eyed Aussie cattle dog who had just nursed seven puppies at 2 years and 3 months old. So yes, it was a teen pregnancy lol!

By the time I found out about her/notified the shelter of my interest, she was at the stage where she could separate from her healthy, potato-like pups. After five weeks of nursing, I was sure that this young mama was ready to start a new life, just like me, haha!

APA has a well-developed foster program, and since Celeste would be the first dog I ever had in my life under my full responsibility, I agreed to undergo a “foster-to-adopt” process, in the likelihood that if things worked out, I could easily transition to adoption.

My sister was probably more excited than I was leading up to pick-up day, and she offered to come with me after work to pick up Celeste/help her settle in. Along with moral support, my sister came with a huge “starter pack” in tow, full of toys and treats her own foster dog didn’t care for, lol! I whole-heartedly appreciated it all since I honestly felt like I knew nothing about having a dog, even though I did spend time volunteering with them in the past.

APA has a gargantuan foster shed that we were able to get donated leashes, dog beds, toys, etc. from. Thanks to donations from other animal lovers, it was easy to get started with the essentials. What I wasn’t prepared for was the trazodone (anxiety medication that Celeste was apparently taking), and that I’d have to give her two doses daily. To be honest, pick-up day was a bit of a frenzy for my sister and I: we interacted with at least five staff members who told us different things at different times. At one point, one staff member told us Celeste had already left with a foster (but she was referring to me, LOL).

Once we left the shelter, we made a stop at PetsMart since I didn’t even have dog food ready–-I know, I’m such a bad mom 😂! I could tell something seemed off with Celeste, since she was drooling quite a bit. We summed it up to anxiety from rapidly changing environments and people, but she was a gentle girl as we walked through the store.

When we dropped off my sister so she could meet me at my place from her car, I still noticed Celeste wasn’t in the best of shape. Unfortunately, she did vomit in the backseat, but at least I was well-prepared with bedsheet draping over the car seats. I again summed it up to anxiety, but it was possible she could also be prone to motion sickness too, which would put a damper on any car trips to dog parks or hikes I had planned…

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My first night with Celeste was a learning curve. While she found some comfort in my spacious 1-bedroom (she was “spoiled” in that she never had to stay in a kennel at the shelter, as she was a nursing mama and was lucky to have a whole office for her and her seven pups), she did not like the dog bed I fished out for her from the foster shed. I tried getting her to get cozy in a crate, but she whimpered at the thought, even with a trail of peanut butter-flavored treats.

She didn’t jump on my bed or bark, and in fact, when I went to bed, she tried to sleep on the ground next to me. But I think she was still restless, and I found her embracing her “dingo side” when she decided to pace around the apartment in the dark that night.

As we entered into the next 48 hours, things got tough. I knew cattle dogs were high energy—that’s why I was so excited to finally have one in my care—but the fact that Celeste never ran out of energy threw me for a loop. Our first run together was a chopped 2 miler, and I saw that she loved the opportunity to connect with her dingo roots in each stride. We didn’t venture to any parks or trails, as I was still nervous about her possible car sickness.

One thing that also complicated things was she had tested heartworm-positive. I had read about the treatment online and knew it would be an intensive procedure which would involve injections and almost a month of bedrest where she could not absolutely under no circumstances run (or even walk normally) at risk of elevating her heartrate. It’s one of the major things that was on my mind during my “trial week” with Celeste—could I commit to a dog (albeit beautiful, sweet, and full of life) who already had a major health condition?

She was also not spayed yet, and before realizing that the random blood spots I’d find all over my apartment was her “period” (lol, technically, this happens when a dog is in heat), I thought she had an internal issue like an ulcer or something!

All of this, plus the fact that she was indeed prone to car sickness left me frustrated my third day with her. I wanted to go on long hikes with her, to take her to parks and to have her have the best time ever, but being on vomit alert crushed all my excitement. After wiping down the backseat of my car, I hoped to have a quiet evening walk with her in a new-to-us area, but the rampant squirrels wouldn’t even let me have that. At one point, Celeste might as well have been a cheetah, as that’s the strength and fervor she had when chasing down one squirrel. Her intensity literally ripped the leash I was holding onto so tightly from my hand, leaving a deep gash in my index finger.

TL;DR, it took about a month to heal.

My delicate hand while washing vomit-stained bedsheets. At least my nails were cute.

Before things got better, they got worse. Since Celeste was a cattle dog from the streets (lol), she was one smart cookie, which didn’t help me in trying to help her. She soon associated the scent of peanut butter with her trazodone, and would have nothing to do with it by the time I hit a week with her. This added to my frustrations, as I didn’t have the confidence to force-feed her twice a day with her new food aversion. This also contributed to my nervousness about committing to adoption, as it seemed like I would have to make a lot of sacrifices for the particular needs of Celeste.

Fortunately, the shelter gave the OK to stop trazodone since she didn’t have wild withdrawal symptoms in the 24 hours I wasn’t able to give her her medication. At this time, I also let the staff know that I wouldn’t be able to proceed with adoption, but I was happy to foster her until the right adopter came along.

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After the “first week blues”, things did begin to look up and Celeste and I developed a routine. She’d wake me up along with the sunrise, but if I shut my bedroom door, she’d wait patiently in the living room until I got up to go to the bathroom. I’d have to wrestle with her just to get to the toilet, but she eventually knew the clues that signaled walk or run time: Pink leash, belly rub, and the sound of the front door opening. Her scatter at the sound of the front door was comical, but a challenge I had to face so early in the morning: make sure neither she nor I injured ourselves tripping over each other.

Despite the quirks, she was the perfect running buddy. The most I ever ran with her was 10k, but it was a one-time miracle. All my other runs with her were sporadic 2-3 milers, intercalated with squirrel chases and arm workouts for myself trying to reign her back from said squirrel chases.

The funny thing was, even with these intense morning runs, she’d want to go out two hours later. Sometimes a tennis ball I’d throw would send her darting to the kitchen, or a pig ear would keep her occupied while I took some work meetings, but it was our lunchtime stops at my apartment’s dog enclosure that would really tie her over. I liked to say she was enamored with a large tree in this enclosure—the Tree of Life—but it was really the rustling of squirrels that mesmerized her.

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Evening runs were tortuous with the Texas heat, but if I was able to make her hold out long enough, we were able to enjoy sunset walks around the neighborhood. She wasn’t too crazy at this time of day, except that one time she decided to chew on a squirrel carcass…that wasn’t fun.

After confirming my foster status with her, I knew I would at least have her for a couple more weeks due to the 4th of July holiday. My dad was also visiting that weekend, and was able to meet/share the couch with her during his stay. He immediately fell in love with her personality, even if she did “steal” his spot from time to time!

On the 4th, I drove over to Petco to see if I could find a festive bandana for my girl. We had fun taking pics, and I think I was able to capture her energetic personality.

Who you callin’ mama now?

As if on cue, I received the first inquiry about her adoption the Thursday after 4th of July. The potential adopter lived on a ranch an hour out of Austin, and thought Celeste would make the perfect pal for her mini Aussie shepherd. Hearing this, I knew that in theory this would be a great fit for Celeste, and we set up the first meet-and-greet: a walk around my neighborhood in the sweltering Texas heat after work.

The potential adopter fell in love with her immediately—much like I did—and I knew the days I had left with my dear girl were numbered. Even so, I was truly excited for her, knowing that her life would indeed be spent where it should be roaming free on a Texas ranch.

The next step was a meet-and-greet at the shelter, where Celeste met her potential brother. I was asked to stay far from the pen so she wouldn’t try to look for me, but my dear girl couldn’t resist. She did well interacting with her new family, albeit with some hesitation, but the shelter was quick to give the go-ahead for adoption, and I was asked to bring her for her spay surgery in two days and for the new family to pick her up at the end of the day post-surgery.

Besides spoiling her with a few extra treats, my last day with her did not avert from protocol. We kept to our routine of 3x a day walks (with a few miles running in the morning, of course), a few extra cuddles, and then that was that. Bright and early on Monday morning, I brought her back to downtown Austin in heavy commuter traffic, and I let my baby girl go.

I felt sad thinking she didn’t know I wouldn’t be picking her up at the end of the day, but at the same time, I wondered if she would remember me at all.

Her new family was incredibly kind, offering to keep me updated on her happenings post heartworm treatment:

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Celeste indeed brought me an incredible amount of joy, while also unearthing hidden frustrations and exhaustion that come with caring for a dog. If you’re doing it right, I guess this is how it’s supposed to feel!

I haven’t fostered another dog since Celeste, but I absolutely want to. Even with the demands cattle dogs have, my heart still yearns for one, and I’m still leaning towards adopting a cattle dog in the future.

One day, when I have a house with a nice, big backyard, full of trees and plump squirrels.

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If you’re new to the blog, I’m a runner. I’ve considered myself a “runner” since my first race at the end of 2012, so over 10 years now!

I used to write race recaps religiously in previous blogs of mine, but when I started with SGD, my focus changed. It was also right around the time COVID was at its peak so running adventures in Italy also took a back seat…

Since moving to Italy, I wrote about my running adventures when I felt like it:

⋆ Running Reflections

⋆ Running a (Half) Marathon in Italy

I ran a half marathon in October 2022 in Monza before the Houston Marathon a few months ago, but I wasn’t in the mood to recap that experience. After Houston, I’ve been trying to figure out what my goals are for the year and going forward. Needless to say, life is showing me tough love right now, and pursuing an active job search does make things difficult in planning for the long-term, including formidable races such as my next marathon!

So for the short-term, I’ve been working on maintaining moderate-to-high mileage throughout the week, and focusing on trying for new PRs in shorter distances like 5 and 10km. A local race in Monza called Run for Life took place in early March, and I thought it would be feasible to sign up for the 5km distance and see if I could break my PR from 2017.

Racing in Italy definitely has its pros and cons. Pros include cheap “inscriptions” (lol, registration) and “later” start times. Cons, for me at least, include lack of a strong running culture compared to the US, menial “pomp and circumstance” regarding packet pick-up and post-race freebies, carelessness when it comes to course organization for small, local races, and too much control over needing a health exam/doctor’s certificate and run organization registration to race “competitively”.

For this particular race, 14€ included registration for the 5k, along with a race shirt, drawstring bag, and ample coupons. They threw in a box of cough drops, and some Italian hard candies, but pickings were indeed slim!

While the early bird in me detests the fact that nothing in this country is up and running before 9am, especially on Sundays, I must admit that being close to the race and the latter start time compared to US races did give me the opportunity to sleep in until 7:30am 😂. It bothered me that I had to struggle to find a coffee shop open so “early” in the morning (please, Starbucks in the US is up and at ’em at 5:30am in a lot of places, haha!), but I managed to consume an uncharacteristic-of-me breakfast before the race—gasp! a cappuccino and brioche!

In the past, I would have been incredibly nervous about coffee before a race given previous *gastrointestinal discomfort incidents* but as my performance in the race would later suggest, it might have been a factor that helped me 😮?

I might have also had a morale booster that helped, since I was meeting up with a runner friend from a previous Italy race experience! When I made an attempt to organize a running group for expat women last summer, she was one member though she couldn’t make it to the run sessions I proposed. We ended up meeting for the first time in person at the Monza Half in October, and met again for this race.

She was coming by bus, so after my colazione and quick potty break at home, I made my “warm-up” to Monza Park where the race was taking place.

There wasn’t much to do when I go to the bag-drop off area. I didn’t have to check in a bag (just the one they gave me with my “free tee”), so I spent some time people-watching before my friend arrived.

Of course they had coffee and snacks available at the “corner bar” 😅

When my friend arrived, we did another warm-up (about 1 mile) before slowly making our way to the start. It wasn’t too cold, but I was eager to get moving since I didn’t bring layers (we runners warm-up once we’re moving…).

To pass the time, we took pictures at the start, when a guy approached us and asked if he could take a picture with us. It was indeed an odd request that we declined, but for me not a completely unsual one! Something similar happened with me and my sis a couple years ago on a family trip to Paris. The kicker was, my Dad took the photo without hesitation! So now there’s a random guy out there who has a photo with my sister and I at the Eiffel tower—awesome 😂.

Since I was running the 5km, forcefully grouped with the “non-competitive” runners (in Italy, if you don’t provide proof of registration with a runner’s club or organization, you can’t race “competitively”. Even if you do beast your competition, your time would not be considered if you don’t have proof of this registration. Technically, you pay a fee and move on, but it is an unnecessary hassle…), my bib didn’t come with an electronic tracker, and for this particular race, no one seemed to care how the 5kers dispersed themselves! I started with my friend but took off once my legs felt good. She was doing the 10k, and we agreed to meet at the bag drop-off after our races.

I went into the race not feeling like I would PR, only because I had to drop down mileage the week I was in Ravenna, and when honestly reflecting over my training, I had not put in much devoted time to speedwork since Houston.

But, my time suggested otherwise—I was one second off my 5K PR pace from 2017!

My PR pace for the 5k was actually achieved during a training run back in 2017, at 7:36 min/mi. At the race, I was able to get very close at 7:37/mi!

It would have been perfect, if I had actually crossed the finish line!! The idiots organizing the race didn’t communicate the course distances with their volunteers I guess since one of the volunteers had me keep running on the 10k path! I knew something was up when I saw there was no finish line in sight but all the tall trees.

I ended up stopping, cutting through a large lawn, and then jogging back to the bag-drop off in irritation!

Funny thing was, I ended up running a 10k including my warm-ups and this “irritation” run! 😂

My path should have been the yellow loop 🤦🏽‍♀️:

Despite the disorganization and not much TLC being shown for the 5k distance, I was very much happy with my fitness status based on my “personal” 5k time trial.

My friend finished soon enough, and after picking up our bags, we decided that we might as well hop into the growing line that apparently promised fresh arancia juice and a humble bag of snacks from a local grocery store chain, Coop.

Waiting for free stuff: an unified, international experience

By the time we got to the goods, the orange juice machine was acting wonky and the guy moderating the pick-up line was panicking in Italian, LOL. My friend and I managed to snag a few of the last cups, and then head on out.

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After the race, I managed to treat myself to a vegan lunch to-go and a nap, but the experience made me remember the local races I ran in the early 2010s, and how much fun the race as a whole was for not just the runners, but for all of their supporters.

At one local race in the Bay Area, my dad and I swiftly left the premises with 10 jars of Biscoff spread 🤣. Then there was the other time I won tickets to Dodger’s game, and another time where I woke up at 3am just to run a relay with my marathon team before the sun rose…

These races were literal events that motivated, and at times inspired, me to write the race recap posts of my past blogs, and is something I wish was still alive in the running community. Even in the US, the sample game isn’t what it used to be—I doubt my Dad and I would still be able to snag Biscoff jars at ridiculous quantities. Now we’d probabaly be handed a teeny spoonful and watched by hawks!

Even if there wasn’t fanfare for my 5k time—let alone the race in general—I came away incredibly happy and proud of my feat after six years! Since I was so close to breaking my 5k PR, I’m thinking of doing another 5k this spring, but will need to start thinking ahead to half and full plans too!

Happy with my time, but always wanting to improve!

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I don’t know what it is about the American South, but every time I make a trip out to Texas, I fall in love with it more and more…as much as my exhaustion with Italy grows and grows 😅.

Spring, TX, where the’rents currently live

My trip back home for Christmas/the Houston Marathon/a surprising event I can’t share too much about just yet 👀 was just what I needed after a mentally-exhausting fall. I was back in my country—with people who have known me for years—and bounced back to my “normal” self after a few days of jetlag-induced depression (anyone else get a kick in the pants from jetlag?). The quality time I spent with those I loved in safe spaces allowed me to be introspective and process emotions that have been eating at me for months…

The “surprising event” I had to prioritize last minute also got me thinking about where my life could go, and that the best opportunities for me, are indeed outside of Italy. I hope to share more very soon, but for now, here’s proof that I dressed up, got a $80 blowout 😬, and wore makeup after many years, just to make a solid impression:

I also decided I might as well tackle #23 of my 30 in my 30’s list head-on, if I was going to go through all the trouble of addressing my “appearance”. I went from nail biter at Christmas, to a full set of acrylic nails:

Deciding not to bite my nails on Christmas Day…

Every time I make a trip back home, I also prioritize the essential errands, like sending things off to ThredUp and thrifting, shopping at my favorite stores and trying new flavors of my fav perishibles (see below for my Olipop haul…bought at an unheard of price of $0.99 a POP!), and participating in care package exchanges with friends like Allie! I sent her a box of goodies from Italy (I hauled everything in my suitcase and shipped it all from Texas…because, no way to international shipping!!), and she sent me some of her Pittsburgh favorites as well as some general American snacks she knew I’d be missin’:

I also prioritize trips to Austin, because I definitely see myself buying a home there one day…for now, I am grateful it is my sister’s turf for the next few years, because it means enjoying all the fun stuff this city has to offer with a tried-and-true companion.

Thrifting. Vegan food. Beautiful lakes. Animal lovers everywhere. People who smile and wave when you go for a long run, and who don’t give you resting b*tchface. It’s wonderful, ya’ll.

But with even with all of these fun, unexpected/exciting things, the main reason for my “long” stay (3 weeks? Long? Not long enough!!) was to run the Chevron Houston Marathon, my 8th marathon!

I got cowboy boots…can I be a Texan now plz?

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The last time I ran a marathon was in 2019 in Los Angeles (it was my fifth consecutive LA). I remember feeling so burnt out by the distance and ready for a decent-sized break. Plus, Italy was already percolating in my mind as that’s when I was seeking out investigators and research Institutes in Milan to apply for my fellowship 😅.

Little did I know that the pandemic would be that break I needed..but it happened for a reason.

I failed at a marathon comeback attempt in Italy (my trip to Verona is bittersweet because of it…), and so I knew my next marathon would have to be back in America if I wanted to “succeed”.

After getting settled into a new job, I was able to focus on a new race goal and picked Houston because the timing was perfect (decent weather in January!) and I would be able to have enough time to prepare.

I met with a coach based in Houston in early summer, and he gave me weekly workouts to do while I was in Italy. I’ve had experience working with a coach before when I was in LA, but I was happier with this training cycle overall, as I preferred the coaching style of this coach compared to my previous coach.

Workouts included one speed workout, a long run, a steady run that would be held at goal marathon pace, followed by ALL the easy runs you could imagine. People often forget that improvements come from not how fast you go out each time, but how often your prioritize slow and easy runs…that’s when the magic begins.

My training cycle began in July, and ended mid-January (6.5 months) since the marathon was January 15th. In October, I ran a local half marathon (in Monza), but didn’t PR or feel too well because I was dealing with a horrible bout of anxiety spawned by an event that happened earlier in the month...I am so sensitive to my surroundings and my body internalizes way too much… the curse of an empath? 🤔

But even with that, I’m still happy with how my training cycle progressed from that point. I was hitting my workouts to a T, and seeing improvements in my speed interval pacing (doing sub-7:00 for 0.25 and 0.5 mile intervals!). About five weeks out from marathon day, my coach started having me do long runs over 20 miles. It got to the point I was running one 24 mile run two weeks out from race day, and a 22 miler just a week before race day!

I was able to get out of my head and just do what I needed to do. It was the first time I got past mental burn out in a long while, and the first time in a long time I was doing 20+ milers!

So with how the training cycle played out, I was hoping to PR with a 3:45. My PR up until that point was a 3:53:37, which I earned back in 2017. Even with these new goals, I knew anything could happen on race day… just had to convince myself that I put in the work and now I just had to let things happen as they should.

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I was able to go to downtown Houston with my dad the day before to pick up my race packet, and for the rest of the day, I tried to eat “safe” (no fibrous or rich foods that could get in the way of digestion, haha) and then ofcourse, go to bed early.

The next day, the two of us drove back down to downtown, and after walking around in circles for a bit, I found my starting place at corral B. I was able to make small talk with two other women as we waited, and fortunately it wasn’t too cold. At the same time, I wanted it to be, since I know I don’t do well in heat + humidity, which Houston is famous for.

Others on the other hand had no issue buying NWT clothing as “start line cover-ups” and tossing them over the fences when it was time to race. Talk about fast fashion* 🙄.

*The race organizers did say that any clothing left at the start would be donated to local shelters…but still…

By the time I made it to the start line, it was around 7:20am. I felt good at the start, but tried to keep my pace steady and not go out too strong. My per mile splits for the entire 4:06:39 (I know, I didn’t PR, but let me explain…) were as follows:

I was doing really well up until mile 15. I even found the 3:45 pace group from mile 6-mile 9 and they helped me push myself for that period. My legs were beginning to give out at mile 9, but I still maintained race pace more or less.

I also know that in the marathon, pain comes and goes…you feel horrible for some random miles, but then if you fuel and hydrate properly, you body suddenly forgets the pain and pushes through…until it feels the pain again 😂!

Around mile 17, I was starting to feel gastric distress, so I made a pit stop at a porta potty. It might have been in my head though, because…no movement? Haha, TMI!

From mile 18 onwards, I kept the “only two more miles till hydration” mindset. I walked through water/Gatorade stops and the method seemed to work well and help me push through. Miles 24-26 were HORRENDOUS. Funny enough, since mile 24 was the longest distance I ran leading up to race day. Even though it was “only 2 more miles”, my legs felt HEAVY.

I also started to choke up and feel emotional. I wanted to cry not from the pain, but from the fact that this was happening again…I was going to finish my 8^th 26.2, and even if most people in my life would not be able to comprehend how remarkable that is, it was enough for me to tell myself that I was doing something amazing.

I had enough in me to speed through the finish, and then crawl on through the finisher’s zone. I called my dad in order to find him at the family meet-up area, and yes I finally got a good cry out!

I didn’t PR, but I…

✅ Finished healthy and strong.

✅ Hydrated well (hydration was organized SO well on the course!) and fueled well throughout the race.

✅ Happily accepted the outcome of the race and praised myself for the feat I just accomplished.

I’ve been telling myself since 2017 that I’m going to get faster, that in this-and-that race I’ll PR again, but it’s been a long, winding journey with running since then…

This training cycle has been so helpful in that it has helped me realize that with the right support, I can achieve the goals I want to achieve. My coach and I agreed that a 3:45 is in me, and that for 2023, working on 5k/10k speed, followed by the half, and then a full in the fall is a reasonable plan.

I hope to be back in the US soon enough to tackle all this and more…whoops, did I say too much too soon 😮?

Well, life’s too short to not speak the truth, and chase dreams that take shape day by day…

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“So, when are you having kids?”

The notorious question asked whenever a couple is in the room…

“You don’t want kids?”

The response one hears when the answer is “not typical”…

But what IS typical nowadays? With new cultural and socioeconomic norms, having kids—even if one wants them—is not the same as it used to be…

And for the average late-twenty-something/thirty-something millennial, having a dog might be all we can handle (emotionally and financially).

Can we just accept that?

Chrizz and I dive into this topic further on our latest Pour the Coffee podcast episode: Episode 3 – To Kid or Not to Kid!

Add it to your podcast line-up for the week, and share your thoughts on the subject with us!

Listen on anchor.fm or Spotify!

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A few weekends ago, I had the opportunity to join eight other expat girls on a hike in Mandello del Lario, a town I had no idea existed since it was my first time going past Lecco, a major city on the other side of Lake Como.

I am no expert in sports, except running. I guess I could also throw tennis in there since it was a large part of my high school years, but don’t ask me about anything else, haha!

When it comes to hiking, I’ve always enjoyed the thought of it. Unfortunately, it’s only stayed as a thought because my close circle of friends and family aren’t exactly outdoor types. While they do enjoy the occasional walk for “fresh air”, I’m sure they would have been ANGRY with me if they had joined me on this particular hike…

Sliding down in mud, steep “rock climbing”, gripping onto chains for dear life, almost falling into rapid-flowing streams…

I was a bit nervous too at first, but by the end of the day, I felt like a total bad-a**, frankly speaking!

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The day started at a “decent” hour in the morning. I personally would not have minded if we left at the crack of dawn, but I don’t expect Italians to favor that request—even if they are expats!

Most of the girls caught the train from Milano Centrale, but since I recently moved to Monza, I was able to save an extra 15 minutes in travel (well, sitting in anticipation on the train…I still had to walk over from my apartment 😅).

I met a girl who was originally from Peru at Monza Station who was also joining the hike. We had a nice chat about our life experiences in Italy and she casually mentioned she did part of this hike before with her CHOW CHOW DOG (I was literally squealing with excitement).

The train ride was about 20 minutes (time flies by when you’re talking up a storm!) and we met the other seven girls when we got off. There were some awkward silences here and there as we all tried to figure out how to get to the trails, but someone mentioned coffee and that helped break the ice!

We found a small café and got ourselves together. One of the girls (who is Italian) spoke with a local and figured out exactly where to go. That helped.

Trail start: we went on the “del fiume” path

It took us about 20 minutes to get to the trail start—and off we went! We officially “clocked in” at around 10:45/11:00. I’m actually not sure of the exact time because I was already in deep conversation with the Italian (working as a post-doc) and a master’s student from Dubai about the toxicity of academia 😅. Oh the things that bond humanity!

The first two hours or so felt like a walk in nature. There were some steep parts, but nothing one would call difficult. I had enough energy to keep conversations going, and snap pics along the way—including one of this local:

We stopped for “lunch”/a break when we got to the first main waterfall (which some of the girl’s cutely referred to as “cascade”). I brought a simple, ready-to-eat deli sandwich, yogurt, and chips—not my first choice, but your options for ready-meals suitable for hiking are limited for a vegetarian in Italy!

We definitely needed the rest because the next segment of the hike would require ALL of our energy (and bravery)! One of the hardest parts of the hike had us literally rock climbing. There was a chain strewn across a row of boulders, and we had to hold onto it for dear life while climbing sideways à la Spiderman.

It took us a bit longer to get past this, even more steep climbs, and rocky, narrow paths (I lost my water bottle at this point which I had filled with fresh water from the cascade! Darn!), but we waited for everyone to finish before moving onto our real rest spot.

No one was getting left behind.

At this point, we all settled in in the grass. Some girls had their “real” lunches while others napped. I tried not to be annoying while crunching on the rest of my BBQ chips!

We stayed for a full hour, and then decided to head back to avoid getting back too late/past sunset. The hike back was more on the annoying side, only because we were all starting to fall from our endorphin high and knew it would take us at least two hours to get back, even on the “easy, shortcut” paths. I had brought old running shoes for the hike, and had to be very careful since the tread had mostly worn down and I found myself slipping in some areas…

I also found myself a lot more quiet on this leg of the hike. I was hyperfocused on not falling, while also consumed in my own thoughts while some of the girls who still had energy chatted around me.

Views on level land: can’t leave without seeing a cat!

When we got back into the city of MdL, it felt nice to walk on flat roads again. Some of the girls were in awe when I told them I was doing a long run the next day (had to fit it in before a half marathon the following week…), and to be honest, my legs were totally fine! My arms were the ones feeling all the DOMS the next day…

We took the train back after 6pm, and I got back home a little before 7.

I was able to get off in Monza and avoid the Saturday night craziness of Milan. Needless to say, the physical activity of the day left me a good kind of tired and I slept well that night.

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MdL was a great day experience, but I honestly don’t know when and if I’ll be going on another similar hike anytime soon with “winter” approaching (quotes because ya’ll…I’m still wearing shorts in October…I see Italians bundled up already like we’re in the North Pole but I think it’s out of habit vs. necessity!). Eventually, it would be nice to hike the Dolomites, but I’m also not in a rush.

It kind of looked like the Dolomites anyways…

The next couple weeks will be insanely busy, so it was nice that I was able to take a break early on and finally enjoy what (Italy’s) nature has to offer.

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