God Gives Us Light in the Darkness: A Testimony

Little did I know While I was turning the lights out on 359 http://gchernandez3.blogspot.com/2013/11/lights-out-on-359-testimony.html God stoked embers inside of me that glowed brightly in the dark. I'm happy for the power of positive thinking. I know that no matter what my troubles are, there is always someone willing to trade their problems for yours. 

Tragic circumstances exist on this globe which (on the surface) make the lesson learned from blacking out during a marathon seem trivial. Most people probably think to themselves "that's what you get for running 26.2 miles" or some variation of that and I completely understand. "Big deal George, you blacked out, get over it, move on." My problem (or my blessing the way I see it), is that God didn't build me that way.  

I enjoyed math as much as the next kid, I certainly appreciated when the professor balanced the equation, showed us the way and turned on the light when I was in the dark. This isn't about running anymore. I quit breathing last year on Manayunk Ave between miles 20 and 21 of the Philadelphia Marathon. I recognized last year that that this script could have been completely different, I'm thankful that it wasn't.

Pastor Weece says that God doesn't inflict pain on us but he sure doesn't waste an ounce of it. After my Beautiful, Supportive and Loving Wife made sure that I saw our family doctor and a cardiologist and I passed all the tests, she put some winter running gear under the tree for me. I went for an easy three miles on Christmas Day, I shuffled along for 2 miles at an eleven minute pace and walked the last. I let doubt creep in to my psyche, "maybe I should bury this running activity." I had lost so much stamina in only one months time that my claim to the ER nurse at Roxborough Memorial of "I'm coming back next year to finish" seemed like a fable.

Starting over can be frustrating but it can also be refreshing. No matter what the circumstance, whether you're moving, taking a new job or it's your second chance at a degree we tend to reflect on the time invested the first go around as a waste before the reboot instead of the experience that we gained by the failure. We can't think about the work that was lost because there was something wrong with how we built it and the reality is that failure was inevitable.

Anyone that knows me, knows that these "building metaphors" that I'm incorporating are so hypocritical because when it actually comes to fixing or building anything around the house, I live by the motto "close enough is good enough." My three year old picked up on the fact that if something goes wrong around the house "we call a guy." It's so bad that a few months ago a light bulb when out in one of the fixtures and Pierce said, "Dad, when are you calling the guy?"

One of my favorite sayings is, "I know what I don't know." I'm interested in knowing more of what I don't because if I'm not learning then I'm not growing and that is a poor example to set for my son. That doesn't mean I'm going to start tiling my own floors but it does mean that I've spent the last year learning about why God saved me and why he saves any of us.

Through his blessings I trained hard this year, indoors and out, through nine degree weather and 90. He allowed me a lot if time to reflect and pray during the 600 miles logged. I opened my heart to his word everyday, the embers that he stoked November 17th, 2013, illuminated this realization: He saves us so that we can do Great Things! "Great" is different for everyone of us. It is our mission to realize and then maximize the potential that he instills.

My good friend says that failure can tear you down or it can galvanize you. We shouldn't be afraid to fail, cautious of how not to fail is different from being afraid because if God is on your side then who can be against you ~ Need to Breathe? 

After starting over I learned how to be a smarter runner, I'm thankful for the failure and the result of last year and by His Grace am stronger for it. I knew that even with one marathon completed between last year's episode and a string of PRs throughout 2014 that Philly wasn't going to be easy.

I was tactical during my training and was confident that no matter what happened, I would listen to my body and not a clock. I was cruising at a 8:40 pace through 20 miles. Making the final turnaround on Manayunk Ave was satisfying. Unfortunately, my legs started to cramp. I began a slow shuffle and after they locked up, I stood still, praying for comfort and lightly massaging them. With his help, I strung together a 14+ minute mile, a 12, and an 11. Ashleigh called after she got out of church she talked to me the last two miles, she told me the sermon that she just listened to was about slaying your giants, how's that for irony?

Proverbs 16:9
The heart of man plans his way, but The Lord establishes his steps.

The Lord established my steps those last two miles while I listened to Ash and my baby boy, they helped me cross the line to establish a new PR of 4:06. Reflecting now, I think it was fitting that my legs stiffened up at about the same spot that I blacked out last year and I think it was fitting that I didn't finish less than 3:59. It's a reminder that without his help, I can't come close to maximizing my potential. I'm here to do great things and through him, I'm going to.

You can to!

Thanks Brian

My experiences are new to me, the lessons learned are probably not new to you. Most of the time I'm just figuring out the Silver and Black Lining!

P.S. If you visit Philly, stay away from Manayunk Ave.

We Can Hit A Curve!

My Baseball career was short lived, two years of tee ball is what would be compiled on the back of my playing card. I rep'd (the grammatically incorrect "rep'd" speaks to my street cred) the Lions my first year and the Eagles in my second campaign. It’s safe to say that I probably couldn’t hit a curve in the traditional sense but you let me stand in the batter’s box of life and have one shot at the the proverbial one, I promise, the contact I make with it wouldn’t give gravity a chance at bringing it back down to earth.

I’m not sure if everyone would agree with me but it was my experience that of all the lessons that I received from my parents/elders, there are a handful that made a larger impression. I recall when I was about 12 years old driving down our street (good ol’ Goodfellow Rd), with Dad. Pete (one of our neighbors and Dad’s co-workers) waved, so Dad pulled over. They began to talk shop. I didn’t have an iPhone to distract me so I did what most kids did and listened in on the conversation. The gist of the convo was that someone at work dropped the ball and Dad was left high and dry. Pete seemed to be more upset about the circumstance than Dad was and Pete pointed that out. 

Dad responded in a way that taught me more about dealing with the variables of life than probably any conversation we ever had. He said something to the effect of, “ what’s the point of getting pissed off about it, it happened, there’s nothing we can do about it now. being mad won’t change anything.” 

I’ve used that attitude, transformed and built upon it, molded into a greater philosophy with Ash’s help so that when life throws a curve at you, you have a better than 40 percent chance of handling it successfully. 

May 11, 2014, American Airlines sent me a text saying that our flight is going to be delayed an hour which will most certainly cause us to miss our connecting flight, turning our already long day of travel into an even longer day with now the variable of stress and uncertainty surrounding the three of us getting onto new flights with seats next to each other.

Our perfectly planned itinerary wadded up like a piece of paper that was torn incorrectly out of a spiral notebook and tossed into a wastebasket without ever getting the chance to be useful. No doodles were scribbled upon it, no pictures drawn or notes taken. ROUND FILE! 

BUT WAIT!

A change of plans, American Airlines threw a second curve at us, instead of the original arrival gate C14 there had been a change. In a somewhat cruel twist, the airline gave us a glimmer of hope that we would be able to catch our connecting. We were now docking at A17 and only needed to get to A9. We were positioned in the front of the plane and conceived a plane that would give us the best opportunity for success. I would carry Pierce and Ash would wear the backpack, carry her purse and P’s little bag. IF the connecting had been in a different terminal, there would’ve been NO shot but only eight gates away??? Could we do it???

It appeared my appetite for running would prove useful. We filed off the plane and I excused myself around an elderly couple. I shot out of that jet way like a cannonball with a 41 pound/41.5 inch long three year old plastered to the front. I got P jacked up while we were waiting our turn, I told him, “Pierce and Daddy are going to get to run to the next plane, I told him it was going to be just like Daddy’s race!” 

He responded the way I expected “Why Daddy?” 

I said, “Because Mijo, it’ll be fun!” We’re going to race Mommy!”

I’m not a sprinter, the challenging aspect of being a marathoner is how tired your legs get after 20 miles. I’m never out of breath, at a nine minute pace, I can have a conversation with anyone through out a race without a problem. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as simple as being ONLY eight gates apart. There was a connecting corridor under construction that had to be navigated. The scene set up like any romance movie that has the guy running to catch his next flight so that he can stop his true love from marrying the jerk that she was engaged to. Instead of 80 feet, I’d guess the corridor and the eight gates were a good quarter mile apart. I held P tight, my legs moved furiously and my lungs burned in a way that they were not accustomed to, converting oxygen in to enough energy to get us to the A9 finish line. 

WE MADE IT! 

The plane was still there, we could see it! Me, out of breath and Pierce saying through a smile and giggle that “Mommy can’t catch us!”, (poor Mommy.)

As my lungs expanded and collapsed more rapidly than they had in quite some time, the airline attendant, looked at me in a way that my Theatre teacher looked at me after an audition, before she told me that your effort was incredible but it wasn’t meant to be. They had pulled the bridge away and shut the door. There was NO WAY that they could re-open it. After hearing the news, I looked back down the hall in time to see Ash arrive, I gave her the same look that Mrs. Gaffney gave me when I didn’t get the part I wanted in Odd Couple, (for the record, I did get the parts I wanted in every other play that I auditioned for and Mrs. G made the right call in Odd Couple, Josh was a great Oscar.)

They were able to get Ash and I on a flight that left in one hour and after they realized that plan was broke, it was decided that P and I would take those two seats and Mommy would go solo on a flight two and half hours later. Happy Mother’s Day Mommy! I found myself getting emotional as we said goodbye to Mommy. Pierce had no idea what was going on and he couldn’t have been more agreeable. He was the MVP that day. We found our seats and there was little drama on the four hour flight to SFO. 

I had arranged a Happy Mother’s Day basket of wine and flowers to surprise Mommy as we arrived to our hotel suite. It wasn’t going to be the same surprise that I wanted to elicit because we weren’t all arriving together. Instead, I arranged for a driver to meet her at her gate, he held a sign that said, Happy Mother’s Day Ashleigh Hernandez! 

I made a boo boo booking the flight on MD. OOPS! BUT, I think we succeeded in making it a memorable one. Ash arrived 90 minutes after we did. Pierce showed her around the suite and did the “TA-DAAA!” unveiling the basket of flowers. We hugged each other tight, it was as if we were wringing out a dirty cloth that we used to clean up the mess that a delayed flight had caused. So that we could begin to soak up a week full of fun an memories.

I did the “TA-DAA”, with the wine after Pierce went to bed. Ash and I recounted the long day sipping on Pinot Noir, while looking at the Golden Gate and the Rock. It could’ve been worse. It always can, there is always someone willing to trade for your problems.

My experiences are new to me, the lessons learned are probably not new to you. Most of the time, I'm just working out, what the Silver and Black Lining is.

We are exactly where we are supposed to be, when we're there.

Rest Now

The first memory that flashes to the front of all of the others is set on the living room floor of the house on Indiana. I had carefully placed all of my action figures on the floor across the bottom of the blue couch. I moved gingerly while recovering from a burst appendix. Auntie Ester watched me that week while Dad worked. I probably said something like "Auntie, Watch this!", I took the rubber bands out of my pocket and probably became the only man ever to pick off: Chuck Norris, Rambo and Hulk Hogan at the same time.

Another memory blinked back into my conscious as I relived the previous. Auntie Ester was sitting next to my hospital bed keeping me company while I recovered from having my appendix removed. The IV's were in my right hand and made it painful to draw or color. My Auntie Ester picked up the crayons and asked me what she should draw? We settled on a picture that looked like this; the first two inches at the bottom of the page were brown, (I told Auntie that it was dirt), the next few inches were green for the grass with flowers and the rest was blue sky with a yellow sun. My auntie put the finishing touches on it and said done. I picked up the brown crayon and with my left hand inserted dark squiggles in the dirt, it was all that I could contribute without messing up such a pretty picture. Auntie asked "what are those?" to which I replied "worms!", and she responded "MIJO, "that's nasty!" and we both giggled.

She is an incredibly selfless soul who loved her family and cared deeply for those within her circle. I used the present tense IS on purpose in the last sentence because she IS with us. She is present in a different way now, living instead in our memories and in our hearts and through the retelling of stories.

I know I've been absent from her everyday life for more than 18 years and I have only seen her a dozen days or so over the last decade but despite that, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about where I came from  and my family that is still there. I am blessed with a  better than average memory, I am thankful that I can remember small moments in great detail because it keeps me close to everyone. It keeps me close to you Auntie.

I remember when we were all sitting at the dinner table after a day of fishing and you told Robert to knock it off when he tried to rain on my excitement about catching the big fish. I can't blame him, I was off playing with sticks when uncle had the fish about reeled in and he was as patient as he could've been before I retold the embellished story for the 49th time. I remember you asking Mimi to look out for me when I tagged along with the big kids, whether it was stickball in the street or skateboarding.

I remember your white blazer and that you had one of the first car phones, it was as big as a car battery. I remember breakfast at McDonalds. I remember meals at Mi Ranchito. I remember meeting you and Dad for lunch at Cancun and showing you the purchase I made at Peck's, the ring that Ashleigh has worn for 9 years. I remember you and Auntie Becky being there when Dad couldn't be, making sure Patrick and I were taken care of.

I remember and I hope I never forget the sound of your voice saying MIJO. I know you're resting in a peaceful place, probably as peaceful as the picture that you drew for me by my hospital bed 27 years ago. Rest now Auntie, I know that I'll see you when I am supposed to. I love you. 

My experiences are new to me; the lessons learned are probably not new to you. Most of the time, I'm just working out what the Silver and Black Lining is.

Lights out on 359: A Testimony

My eye lids blinked open to a pair of gray and yellow Brooks Adrenaline 13's. I was on a gurney in the middle of a small intersection being helped to sit forward as my body expelled a few ounces of what little fluid remained in my stomach. Despite the medic’s best efforts, I had a hard time comprehending what was happening. My left shin felt like a truck ran over it, my legs were the color of asphalt and I had a bag of fluid being pumped in to my arm. I was moved to an ambulance, I laid there staring at the ceiling I wondered how the "Hell did I get here"?

The night before, Brian, Deidre, Kent and I found convenient parking in Philly which made for a short walk to the expo. I equate the excitement of getting your race bib and shirt to Freshman year orientation, walking around finding out where everything is, trying to imagine what the next day holds. The excitement that a $30 shirt gives to runners is deranged. We pay upwards of $170 to enter a race like this and punish ourselves for months for a medal and a shirt that we can attain as easily as a WaWa cup of coffee. My three friends and I put a cap on a week of carefully planned meals and gallons of water drank and an exclamation point on the morning's itinerary.

All went as planned: breakfast, commute, parking, security and start line. We were ready, this was my third marathon in 13 months and I was as prepared and in better shape than I had ever been before. I set a difficult but reasonable goal of 3 hours and 59 minutes that throughout training seemed attainable. I was armed with experience garnered from the previous 26.2s and a race belt filled with appropriate supplies. I wasn't going to feel the bottom of my stomach on mile 16 like I usually did and I had a pain relieving rub to combat any pain in my left calf.

As we passed the start line the theme music from Rocky blared loudly and the sound waves seemed to bounce off of every historic bell and building in downtown Philadelphia. The adrenaline coursed through my veins and chills went down my back, it was as though Ben Franklin himself was the Maestro leading “Gonna Fly Now”. All the hard work done, this was the fun part!

The first six miles were a breeze, I enjoyed the playlist, recording videos and taking pics of Brian and the surrounding chaos while breathing easy and stepping lightly. No problems through ten or even at the halfway point. Mile 15 is when the first signs of distress started to appear which is not unusual in any of my long distance runs. It's important to note that I hydrate more during the race than I do during training. I attended to my calves, drank a good portion of water and was instructed by Brian to go on ahead. I followed his instruction. At this point, I was running a faster pace than I had run in training or in any of the other marathons. I was happy with how things were playing out.

Mile 17: Dark Clouds
As I replay the fight in my head, I realize with a clear mind that I was ignoring signs. For me and most, powering through pain or soreness or exhaustion is difficult. You have to stay rational enough to decipher when your body is reaching a limit or if your mind is screaming "stop, sit down, why are you doing this"? My body was telling me that I was reaching a limit and I failed to decipher the message.

Mile 20: The Wall, Misapplied Pride
I remember now, (I couldn't that night) staggering after hitting the final turn, mile 20, only 54ish more minutes. Adrenaline kicking in, this is what I trained for, (these last six miles). I remember now, (I couldn't the next morning) thinking "George you need to walk for a few minutes, compose yourself, drink some water, 359 is not what is important, JUST FINISH"! I hypnotized myself into believing that attaining this training mantra was what mattered, and ignored my safety. I remember now, (I couldn't the next day) making a decision based on false pride. Instead of coming out of my gait and walking, I planted my forefoot in the asphalt and headed toward the cheers. I ignored this last WARNING!

I don't remember, I've tried and I can't remember anything else. He has played a big role in everything, the marathons aren't different. In the first he comforted my wounded calf to aid in me limping across the line. After calling the angel that was in Ashleigh’s belly to be by his side this March, he dispatched an army of his to make sure I retained my wits so that I could cross the finish line on my second marathon in April.

He did for me what I was unable to for myself on the third. Like a Father sometimes has to sit his out of control teenager down to tell him he's heading off course, GOD told me, "son, have a seat, you're not on course".

I'm not typing and thinking about a lost opportunity to achieve 359. I learned more running 20 or so and collapsing than if I had I somehow managed to cross the line at 26.2 and incurred damag kidneys and on the verge of a heart attack. I'm typing through glazed eyes, THANKFUL that he threw the towel in for me.

I remember now, and I hope I never forget, the sirens roaring, and the horn beeping deep, I laid in that ambulance, saying the Lord's Prayer, thanking him: for protecting my heart from my misdiagnosis of countless signs that are obvious now, but weren't then, for making sure that it wasn't more serious than it could have been for my sake and my family, for my wife and my son.

Thank You for my Medal Brian. Way to Finish!

My experiences are new to me; the lessons learned are probably not new to you. Most of the time, I'm just working out what the Silver and Black lining is.

A mother of two: my struggle with grief

I remember going to my first pregnancy office visit with my second child. I was excited and nervous. The nurse was running through her long list of questions and she asked me how many children I had, living and/or dead.  I was so struck by the question I couldn't  respond.  I had people very close to me that would have to give a sad answer. It gave me that sick feeling in my heart, and I patted my little rounded belly, reassuring myself and baby no.2 that we would be ok...

Two short months later I was back at the dr, so excited and eager. I had my phone out to record his little heartbeat and was making jokes with the midwife. Life was happy and good and blissful.

The  longer God has allowed me to  live, the more moments, good and bad, I've collected.  You know the ones I'm talking about, that leave those lasting impressions. Some of my favorites include meeting my husband at a high school football game when I was 14. I still remember his smile, how he said "hi" in that nonchalant way.  Or when I walked down toward the beach on our wedding day, the breeze blowing my hair, holding my dad's arm, and seeing that tear trickle down George's face. The moment I held my baby sister, how warm she was and so tiny. Giving birth to Pierce, my husband's excitement, holding him for the first time, his chubby cheeks and sweet face.

When I was five, my parents knelt down in front of me and explained to me that my grandfather had passed away. That moment has been one of the most defining of my life. I learned so much in a few short moments; what it meant to die, what it meant to grieve, how very much I loved that man and what he meant to me. I could never go back to the time when I didn't know those things, and losing that innocence, that hurt, too.

On March 19th, 2013, it was the same. The laughter stopped when the little monitor was silent. The image of my baby laying lifeless in my belly, it will never go away. My sweet husband's whisper " there's no heartbeat anymore, is there?" still echoes in my mind. The way my first angel boy patted my back as I cried big heaping sobs and his tiny whispers of " it okay, mommy, it okay" are etched on my heart.

My second baby's lifeless body was removed the next day. I never got to hold him, kiss him or hug him. But I'm still his mommy.  And he is still my Angel.  

The little chair I ordered for him came the day after he was born. It sits along side his big brother's at their playtable. A constant reminder that I'm a mother of two, one living and one waiting to be with us again.

This Mother's Day, I celebrate all of you, sweet mommies. The ones who have grieved as I have, the ones whose mamas are with my angel, and those that never have been blessed with the joy and pain of motherhood. If you are a woman with love in your heart for the little creatures that have come in or out of your life, you are a mom. I thank you for being you, because we could all use a little more understanding, patience, and love in our lives.

Marseille

After a night of living as high rollers, Ashleigh and I took advantage of a tour later in the afternoon. This gave us an opportunity to catch our breath. We had a relaxing breakfast and decided to enjoy the serenity of the panoramic lounge on the ninth deck. I took my free time to web log and Ash kicked her feet back and read.

It was a drizzly morning and we were both thankful to take a leisure attitude for the day. The Port of Marseille in the largest in the south of France and has held that title for centuries. Marseille is the second largest city in France, behind Paris by a large margin.

Our tour departed at 1:30 and as lovely as our easy go morning was executed neither of us wanted to spend an entire day on the ship so the risk of getting a little wet while walking around the quaint town of Aux didn't deter us.

We did get off to a less than ideal start. The rain was heavy which caused our driver to be hesitant and quick to depress the brake, which made Ash car sick. The tour guide was unsure about what to do with us. At that point, the rain was coming down in blankets and she wanted to audible the walking tour of the city but didn't really have a backup plan.

We exited the bus during the shower's respite and crowded into a local bistro for cappuccino. While we sipped our tiny cups the sky unloaded it's heaviest assault of the day which put doubt into our heads about how grand of an idea it was to leave the comfort of the ship.

The doubt was dried away as French rays of light began to dry the town. Our tour continued and we never looked back. An hour of education was followed by 90 minutes of free time. As it is with most of our checklists, having local cuisine was high on the list and we both wanted to indulge in a French crepe; I had nutella and banana and Ash had nutella and strawberries.

The crepes fueled us while we shopped for authentic French gifts and explored the beautiful city of Aux. We boarded the ship right at curfew and headed to our room. The sky's pigment changed to gray and the wind picked up. Ash decided to lay down before dinner and I explored the upper decks before the sunset. When I came back to check on Ash it became apparent that the rough Mediterranean had taken its toll on her tummy. I went to the rear of the ship, sat in the comfy deck furniture, sipped my vodka martini and read. 

After enjoying the company of new friends and donating to the ship's casino, I called it a night and joined Ash and her tummy in a restless and rocky night at sea.  

 

Shaken Not Stirred

We benefited from having a room located on the ship's port side, as I stepped onto our balcony I had a panoramic view of what 40K euro a square foot looked like. I took my first drink of coffee while scanning the mountain side, I made note of the 100 foot black yacht "Ice Angel" exiting the harbor. I don't think I know a number high enough as to what a floor plan of the inventory in the Monte Carlo Yacht Club would be?

The Monaco Walking Tour was first on the agenda. After a leisure day in Tuscany, Ash and I were ready take the city as our own, something that no country has successfully accomplished. We started outside the Oceanographic Museum, founded by Prince Albert I and contributed to by the legendary oceanographer Jacques Cousteau.

The diverse gardens that lined the walkways were home to a variety of Cacti and Olive Trees. All exceptionally manicured, lending a perfect compliment to the picturesque Italian Alps on the Eastern Horizon and the Southern edge of Monaco's French ally.

After absorbing less than fifty percent of what the tour guide explained to us about the history of the 450 acres of land, we walked through the Cathedral that still serves the town today.

I'm unsure if it is I that travels back in time or if the 11 year old George travels to the future to take control of my person when I'm on any kind of tour. I'm sure most all of my educators would remember all too well the blank look that comes over my face when the depth of the subject broaches the seven minute barrier. This is what I was thinking about as Stephanie explained the history of the Grimaldi for more than ten minutes.

Monaco's Palace was the next stop and the "changing of the guard" the next event before departing to Monte Carlo's most famous attraction, The Casino. After thanking our guide (Merci Stephanie), we had lunch at the Cafe de Paris and decided to come back to the Casino in the evening. We walked our lunch off around the famous square, had a drink on the terrace of the Hermitage hotel, overlooking the harbor and immediately across from us the Oceanographic and Palace.

  

The French Pastry shop that we purchased our Eclair's at was more commercial than we otherwise prefer but their taste was authentic enough. As we descended down the hill side, we walked around the harbor to get back to the Silver Spirit (there's got to be a billion dollars worth of yachts).

The couple's massage courtesy of TFS preceded changing into our formal attire for the evening. Ash in a stunning white dress with silver shimmering accents and I in my first ever "slim fit", navy Calvin Klein.

We were both the best dressed couple in the Casino that night. I had visions of a grand lobby and gaming area so when we walked by the Bentleys and Lambos, up the stairs and in the main room that consisted of at most six open tables, I was a little underwhelmed. I realized it was a Thursday night and the end of the tourist season but despite that, I assumed it'd be larger with a bit more grandeur than a 1920s Boston Speakeasy. When James Bond walks in and says "shaken not stirred", there is at least a game of craps going on but nay, not on this night. If for nothing else then to say that I did it, I placed my bet and watched the dealer spin the tiny ball around the roulette table. Ashleigh placed a bet as well and we talked to a couple from Staten Island. After burning through the 50 Euros, it was time for a drink.

We joined our new friends from Houston for the remainder of our time in Monte Carlo, their company enhanced our experience (thanks Steven and Ashley). Ordering Martini's on the terrace of the Fairmont Hotel (Fairmont Hotel sits on top of the tunnel that has been made famous by the most popular Formula 1 race), taking in the Mediterranean after sunset and sitting next to the most beautiful woman in the world made my pupils go into Supernova mode, it was too much.

The Silver Spirit gave us a 9:30 curfew and we were on the deck of La Terezza Restaurant enjoying our scallops at 9:15. Our view this time, the lights of the city. As the engines churned the sea, seven decks below us and we pulled out of the harbor, the city receded in to the horizon, I thought to myself "we did it all".