My duffle bag and backpack are both slung over my shoulder, the fabric rubbing against each other and making the lamest scratching jangle of spurs imaginable. The straps are staining due to the the overstuffed weight. But it\u2019s not entirely my fault. I\u2019m traveling on an Economy Lite ticket which means I can\u2019t check a bag. The first leg of my 25.5 hour, two connections flight scheduled to depart at 6:25 AM.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s 4 AM and the buses aren\u2019t running yet. I need to get a taxi to go to the Larnaca Airport. Night rates apply and that means a flat rate of 15 euros. I walk to one of four 24-hour dispatch stands I\u2019ve seen in the neighborhood. Giogrios dabs out is cigarette and grabs his half empty pack of Winstons and a lighter telling me his cab is just around the corner. But it\u2019s 4 AM and he forgets his keys so hustles back to get them. He pops the trunk and I off-load my bags. He motions to the car and I sit up front next to him. I flash onto a discussion I had with some Aussie friends of mine \u2013 Aussies always sit up front with the driver; only Americans take the backseat.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m bleary eyed as I barely slept \u2013 maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from the run, or the heady cocktail of literal cocktails and cold medication trying to address my head cold producing the wrong mix of uppers and downers, or the yapping dog and the lame techno music wafting through the Cypriot night air. But whatever the case, I\u2019ve gotten maybe two hours of sleep since the night before. I\u2019m not entirely with it. And Giorgios wants to chat.<\/p>\n
He asks me where I\u2019m from and I tell him the United States. \u201cLong way,\u201d he says. \u201cI\u2019ve been to Galvaston,\u201d he continues. \u201cNew York, Virginia, San Diego, went through Panama.\u201d I tell him that\u2019s quite a large swath of the coasts. He tells me he used to work on a cruise ship, a seaman. \u201cI liked Baltimore best of all,\u201d he smiles wistfully. \u201cMy wife and children are here now but back then, I had a girlfriend in Baltimore.\u201d And like something out of a Kenny Rogers song, Girogios began to speak.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was crazy, that girl. Miki was her name. She would come visit me on the ship and she would stay. And the captain would say, \u2018Giogios, what is this? She cannot be here! She can stay tonight but tomorrow she must go.\u2019 And so the next morning I take Miki and we go off and spend 15 days together. I come back to the ship and Miki comes with me and the captain says, \u2018Girogios, what is this? I tell you she cannot be here. Tomorrow she goes home.\u2019 I say, \u2018Ok, ok.\u2019 So the next day we get off and we spend another 10 days together. I come back to the ship with Miki and the captain tells me, \u2018Maybe your girlfriend stay on ship; I need you to work!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
Giorgios laughs and I laugh, whether it\u2019s a true story or not, it plays well at 4 AM as we careen around the narrow streets of Larnaca to get to the main road to the airport.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wish I had stayed in Baltimore. If not for my wife and kids, I would be there now,\u201d Giogrios continues, quieter than before. \u201cIn 1985, visa issues were very difficult. Maybe it\u2019s easier now\u2026 but then, no. No can stay.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d I say, \u201cMiki sounds amazing\u2026 but I\u2019m sure so is your wife.\u201d And he nods, agreeing but also remembering. Roads not taken, roadblocks enacted, dreams of long lasting and the reality of time.<\/p>\n
\u201cI always remember Miki\u2026 but I like Cyprus,\u201d he says as we pull into the \u201cdepartures\u201d lane.<\/p>\n
It was a 12-minute car ride and yet I felt like I understood Giorgious\u2019s story\u2026 and maybe a lot of our stories.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
It is 2:40 PM somewhere over the Atlantic. I\u2019m on the second leg of my itinerary \u2013 Vienna to Dulles. The gentleman next to me wants to chat as I\u2019ve clearly just finished my book. He asks me where I\u2019m from. I tell him I\u2019m from the United States. He tells me he\u2019s a naturalized citizen but is from Albania, heading back to Virginia to visit his son and daughter. He asks me what I was doing and I told him I ran a marathon in Cyprus, opting to skip the Athenian segment of my travels. He asks me how long was it \u2013 5, 10? I tell him 42k. \u201cOh!\u201d he exclaims. \u201cA real marathon!\u201d This is a common discussion point \u2013 a lot of folks equate marathons with any possible running distance, the way I remember folks in North Carolina asking for a \u201cCoke\u201d and then having to specify \u201c7-UP\u201d or \u201cDr. Pepper\u201d or \u201cRegular Coke\u201d because \u201ccoke\u201d was just the term for a soda pop.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy daughter runs 5, 10, 13,\u201d he continues. \u201cMy wife though, she\u2019s not a runner. She skydives.\u201d I nearly spit-take my \u201ccoke\u201d which is actually a Coke Zero. \u201cThey ask me why I don\u2019t do anything, but it\u2019s hard with work,\u201d he says, before continuing: \u201cBut if you come to Albania, I\u2019ll run with you!\u201d It is something one says in passing conversation. \u201cYa never know,\u201d I say. Because I\u2019ve never been to Albania\u2026 and they DO have a marathon. And it might even be 42.195K.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
I bang my arm walking into my house.\u00a0 That’s going to leave a mark.<\/span><\/p>\n It’s 10:37 PM.\u00a0 I got up 29 and a half hours ago.\u00a0 It’s been a long trip home.<\/p>\n Tomorrow I’ll need to go for a run.\u00a0 Tonight, I need to crash.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My duffle bag and backpack are both slung over my shoulder, the fabric rubbing against each other and making the lamest scratching jangle of spurs imaginable. The straps are staining due to the the overstuffed weight. But it\u2019s not entirely my fault. I\u2019m traveling on an Economy Lite ticket which means I can\u2019t check a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-35275","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/runkevinrun.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/35275","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/runkevinrun.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/runkevinrun.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/runkevinrun.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/runkevinrun.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=35275"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/runkevinrun.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/35275\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/runkevinrun.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=35275"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/runkevinrun.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=35275"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/runkevinrun.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=35275"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}