Don't Stop Smiling: A Tribute to Boston's Eternal Spirit

April 21, 2003: Patriot's Day in Boston, aka Boston Marathon Day. Before committing to run the marathon earlier that year, I had no idea that such a holiday even existed. And it wasn't one of those arbitrary holidays either, like Columbus Day, where everyone talks about it but no one actually has it off. No, Patriot's Day is fondly recognized by the city of Boston. On this day, the entire city essentially shuts down in order to allow its residents to enthusiastically observe or participate in the world's oldest modern marathon, spanning from Hopkinton to downtown Boston. 

Marathoners and me at the finish line the day before the race

I had only been training for the marathon for about six months and was, to put it bluntly, scared to death that I would never be able to make it through. Having never before run a race longer than five miles, I had not qualified for the marathon and was simply running with childhood friends, one of whom attended Boston University, to support Rosie's Place, a local charity that I admittedly knew little about at the time. On the morning of the race, the group of marathoners and I painted our names all over our bodies and across our shirts, ensuring that people would be able to cheer for us as we made our way through the seemingly endless 26.2 mile course.

Not being qualified runners, we had to start the race so far back that it took us a half hour after the gun went off just to cross the start line. With the sun beating down on our backs and fatigue already setting in, I remember that long trek to the starting line, wondering if it was even worth it to start or if I should just jump on the T and give up now. Blasting my specially prepared marathon mix on my Discman, Eminem's "Lose Yourself" carried me through those moments of hopelessness, which, compared to today's events, pale in comparison to what this year's marathoners had to endure.

However, as soon as I entered the marathon course, it was absolutely impossible not to lose myself. Bostonians and tourists alike lined the streets of the entire 26.2 mile course. At no point during the entire race was there a time when there wasn't a smiling face zealously cheering me on. Jovial strangers were continuously shouting my name with words of encouragement.

"Run, Gretchen, run!"

"Don't stop smiling, Gretchen!"

And I couldn't stop smiling. Though I'm sure the endorphins and my personal pride played a part in the grin plastered across my face, I have always attributed the majority of my ecstasy on that day to the contagious enthusiasm emanating from the residents of the city of Boston. For hours, I was showered in cheers and praises, given countless high fives, hugs, and even a few kisses. For the first (and perhaps only) time in my life, I had my own personal cheering section that never abandoned me, no matter how difficult the course got, and, with their support, I made it through. At that time in my life, no other event had had such a positive impact on me and I have carried that experience with me ever since.

As I awoke this morning on the other side of the world on the 10th anniversary of what was such a life-altering and empowering event for me, I was immediately bombarded by the news of the explosions that had taken place just hours before in Boston. My heart immediately sank. It seemed incomprehensible that someone would feel the need to cause such utter destruction on a day that has the potential to be filled with such joy and personal accomplishment. It saddens me that this group or individual will probably never feel such overwhelming support from anyone, much less an entire city that willingly opens its doors and supports throngs of strangers that pound its streets each and every year.

However, as I click through the images and news footage, I am heartened to see the amazing support provided by the city of Boston's emergency response personnel and its ever-devoted citizens. Though understandably dampened by today's events, Boston's spirit has not been destroyed. And now, it is my turn to lend my support and encouragement to the city that so willingly gave theirs to me when I so desperately needed it. Stay strong, Bostonians. Don't stop smiling.

Day 1: The Living Conditions Here Are Horrible...If You Hate Sunshine & Happiness

Where on earth did my husband drag me to?! Not only do we have this horrible view from our bedroom window...

...but when we leave in the morning to eat our free breakfast, someone comes into our fully furnished apartment and makes our bed for us. Just awful.

Alright, so in a few days we will have to move out of the serviced temporary housing and actually prepare breakfast and clean up after ourselves (lame!). But in the meantime, this has been a terrific break from the endless stress we've endured for the past several months while preparing for our move to Singapore. 

However, even after we move into our permanent apartment, we'll still get to enjoy these beautiful views...

If you look at the horizon, you can see the ocean

Kent Vale Courtyards

 And we'll still be able to swim in these meticulous pools...

...which appear to be vacant most of the day.

And, we got to spend a couple of hours with this little man...

Bailey & Andreas at Sembawang Animal Quarantine Station

Bailey enjoying the private play areas at the quarantine station

 ...who seems to be handling quarantine just fine

Mom, it's hot in Singapore

You guys can come visit anytime!

The Singapore Test: The Ultimate Measure of Any Relationship

We’ve all been there: You’re at a friend’s wedding, dateless and determined to find…well, something, wounds lingering from a recent (or not so recent) break-up, and you’re hoping that maybe, just maybe you’ll be able to find some cute guy to at least make the long drive or flight seem worth it. You deserve this.

You start scoping the room for available men. There are tons of attractive guys, but most of them are taken already, of course. After a few hours pass, you’re about ready to take anything that comes your way…except maybe the creepy 50+ men who have been sizing you up all night…but they’re even starting to seem appealing.

Then, as luck would have it, you walk up to a group of old college friends just at the moment when one of them mentions that their friend is currently dancing alone on the dance floor. It takes you all of ten seconds to assess the situation. You have two vital questions to ask:

“Is he straight?”
“Yes.”
“Is he single?”
“Yes.”
“I’m on it!”

You take one last gulp of liquid courage and head over to the dance floor and just go for it, careful not to make eye contact for the first couple of minutes. When you finally do glance up, you realize he’s not completely turned off by your audacious behavior. In fact, he looks intrigued. After a few more minutes go by, he’s still dancing with you. And after a few more months go by, you’re married to each other and preparing to move to Singapore.

Or, at least that’s how it happened with my husband and me.

Andreas and me shortly after our nuptials: 3.11.13

For the majority of our admittedly short relationship, the prospect of moving to Singapore has loomed over us, bringing with it much excitement and many more burdens. Just six weeks into our relationship, we had barely said “I love you” to each other when my husband was offered a  lucrative position on the other side of the world, and we were forced to make a major decision about whether or not we were ready to commit to each other. Permanently.

These past few months have been stressful in ways I’ve never experienced before, but, as is always the case in these situations, I’ve also experienced more happiness and contentment than I ever thought possible. Never before have I learned so much about my partner in such a short period of time, nor have I been able to work through trials with another person so readily as I have with my husband. It has been an intense few months, but I wouldn’t change them for any of the slow-moving “safe” relationships I’ve been in before.

In a period of six months, we’ve had to learn to adjust and reorganize our lives in ways that many couples may never experience. We’ve learned to be flexible, understanding, and compassionate with each other. We’ve learned how to communicate (and how not to communicate) with each other and we’ve experienced each other at our absolute worst (although, I’m fairly certain my husband has had to bear the brunt of this). As we continue to work through the last few obstacles in preparation for our move to the other side of the world, I’ve often found myself thinking about how we were able to get to this place of familiarity and comfort in such a short period of time, especially when both of us have been in other long-term relationships where we would never have moved this quickly.

The answer lies in a singular question, one that we were forced to consider at a very early stage in our relationship, the ultimate test, “Would I move to Singapore for him/her?” If the answer had been no, then we would have gone our separate ways months ago. But instead, we’ve endured the “Singapore Test,” and with our move just four short weeks away, we now prepare to launch into the experimental phase of our journey, one that will most definitely bring with it many hardships, but (hopefully) many joys and blessings as well.