Oh yeah, that old conflict

In celebration of my almost-doctor status and impending midwesterly relocation, I registered for this year's Indianapolis marathon.

I decided to go out for my first base-building run this afternoon and casually asked my husband if there's a good trail to run on in the area (we're living in a suburb outside Beer Sheva surrounded by desert).

"Sure," he said, "there's a trail that starts right down the road."

I headed off to the bedroom to get changed. He stopped me on my way out the door.

"Wait. . . make sure when you get to the water tower that you don't turn right. That will lead you into an Arab village and they've been shooting towards bikers in that area. And if you get to a fence or a guard tower, you've gone too far and you're in the Palestinian territory."

I had a perfectly lovely sunset desert run (holding rocks in both hands in preparation for the frequent packs of wild desert dogs. [no, seriously]), though I did encounter the relatively anticlimactic fence half an hour in and had to turn back earlier than I planned.

I'll miss this crazy country.