Running Ruminations

It’s hard to believe that in just a few short days, we’ll be turning the page on the month of July and that soon enough, this weird, non-traditional pandemic summer will be behind us. The start of the different, right-is-left, down-is-up school-year is fast approaching, too, as July settles in our rearview mirror, and so many immediate questions are still flying around with how the year is going to look and work, and that’s to say nothing of all the questions of the long-term ramifications of this upcoming school-year. 

We all want answers to all our questions, no matter how mundane, and not being able to get them — or better, not being able to look to recent history or comparable circumstances to give us an educated guess about potential answers — is super disorienting. 

That said, what continues to baffle me is how many people seem to not give a shit or somehow think that the few things that we absolutely do know about this virus — about washing our hands well and often (obviously not a practice that’s restricted to COVID), about not touching our faces (same), and about the minimal-inconvenience but maximum-impact-conferring importance of wearing masks in public — simply don’t apply to them. What? 

Of the innumerous aspects of this disease that we do not know or over which we have absolutely no control, it is literally — and I mean that — unfathomable to me that, twenty+ weeks into this mess, there are still some people who choose to ignore the precious few guidelines that we know, definitively, can lessen the severity or duration of this pandemic. 

It’s like the ultimate gofuckyourself to the rest of us. 

Here’s an illustrative example. Last week, the kids and I went to the beach twice, once on Monday afternoon, when it was pretty overcast and sparsely populated, and again on Friday afternoon, when the weather was sunnier and it was busier but still with ample space to distance ourselves from the other beachgoers. (Local friends, I’m talking about Rio del Mar). On Friday, I noticed a pretty good-sized group next to us (easily twenty+ feet away), and I counted over twenty-four people–twenty-four!!–none of whom were wearing masks or physically distancing. The group looked like it was comprised of several families, there to celebrate a child’s birthday (replete with birthday cake, snacks, and everything), and when they weren’t out in the sunshine, they all congregated under the cluster of canopies they had positioned together. Twenty-plus people. On top of each other. Sharing food, utensils, whatever. In a freaking pandemic. 

I will be the first to admit that I am not an expert on any of this, but what the hell. As of last week Friday, Santa Cruz County wasn’t on the state of California’s watch list (though nearly all of the Bay Area counties were and still are), so I initially chided myself for being so judgy and told myself that simply maybe the same rules didn’t apply. (By Monday of this week, Santa Cruz County joined the state’s watch list). Here in SCC, we’re advised to not congregate in sizeable groups (even outside) and to always don masks when we can’t maintain that magic six-foot physical radius, but who knows? Maybe forty miles to the south, in Santa Cruz County, those same rules were somehow inapplicable. Maybe this huge group of families is actually one enormous family that owns a mansion in the hills somewhere, and they all live together, and it’s really NBD if they’re all together on a public beach because they’ve been all together since the get-go on all of this. I mean, what do I know? Nothing.

Just the same, when I’m running and I see huge groups of hikers in ARP or cyclists on White Road — and especially when none or few of them are wearing masks — all I can envision is that they’re all essentially telling the rest of us, those of us following the rules and significantly altering our personal choices and our lifestyles in the name of public health and because it is the non-asshole right thing to do, that somehow our health or our families’ health is somehow not as important as their own. 

Again, it’s like the ultimate gofuckyourself. 

At this point in the pandemic, these people can’t claim ignorance to justify their actions. They know; they simply don’t give a damn. 

How selfish can you be? Oh, wait, this country is predicated on the idea of selfishness and exceptionalism. Our potential limits are endless here. 

It can be really frustrating — and disheartening — to see that there are still so many people who aren’t taking this pandemic seriously and who are choosing to opt-out of caring about it. That life right now must be grand. Please, enlighten me what life is like when you only care about your own.  

Whether based in actual fact or hopeful delusion, I remind myself (and my children) that people do, in fact, have a capacity for change, and that even if they initially felt or did one way/thing about something before, it doesn’t mean that they’ll be locked into it forever. (Case in point: most of us weren’t wearing masks in January or even March, but many of us started to when we learned how important it was). 

My sincerest hope is that slowly but surely — though if it were up to me, change would happen overnight — people everywhere in this country, regardless of political identity or affiliation, will have their come-to-Jesus moment with this virus. The tragedy is that hundreds, thousands, or millions more people will get sick, if not also die, before this awakening takes place. 

Maybe for those most staunchly in the “COVID-is-a-hoax” camp, it’ll take them or their loved ones getting sick before they see the light — which, again, would be tragic and completely, utterly avoidable and unnecessary. 

I think it will take a lot for the tide to change and unify here — the least of which being real, actual leadership and people’s belief and trust in real-life, actual science — but like so much in life, it starts with the individual, at home, in conversations that we have, and in behaviors that we model. 

The personal is political, yes, always, and as it pertains to COVID, the personal will kill us all if we don’t think bigger. 

On occupying time and settling mental unrest 

#hope5kchallenge update. Hope’s Corner is in its final days of its 5x5x5 fundraising challenge, and I’m so happy to update that have surpassed their $5,000 goal! Thank you to everyone who has supported their efforts, and if you haven’t yet logged your 5k goal, it’s not too late to post it and donate here. Thanks again for your support. 

Reading. It looks like last week was all about finishing books, since the kids and I finished Resist one night and then One Crazy Summer the next and began Walk Two Moons immediately after. After I finished White Rage, I began The Hate U Give, which I had heard about for years but never picked up, probably because I thought the YA designation made it somehow less appealing (shame on me). Needless to say, it’s heartbreaking and terrible but so very important.  

Listening. Late last week, I learned that local SJ runner Bertrand, whom I knew from Represent Running, began a podcast, so I dove right in and listened to his interviews with JT Service (of RunLocal fame), Becky Hernandez (one of the first runners I met when I moved here, thanks to TSFM ambassador program), and the one with Bertrand, himself, being interviewed by his co-host whose name completely escapes me and I can’t find online (I’m sorry!!). They’re super fun to listen to, and I think it’s especially fun to listen to interviews when I know the interviewers (or interviewees). This week’s SWAP podcast was also good, and just yesterday, I caught-up on the BIPOC runner safety pod on Rambling Runner, which was solid. I’m partial here because I adore and appreciate Connie. (Strange irony to be listening to a runner safety podcast on the run and get the annoying experience of dealing with a creepyass guy, whom I’m pretty sure followed me, but that’s another story for another day. I’m fine).  

Running. Last week was a big running week for me, with something like 73 miles and over 5,600 feet of elevation, and I even ran a proper long run (15) for the first time since March. I don’t really have much of an explanation for any of it, aside from just that it felt good and it felt like the right thing to do, so I just went with it. G has handled the bump up to 30’ runs well, and she enjoys calling the shots for our music selection (or not) on our thrice-weekly runs. Earlier this week, A also swam for the first time since March, some OWS in SF near Ghiradelli Square, and I can only imagine how excited she must have felt to be in her happy place, doing her happy thing, for the first time in four months.   

97 days (13 weeks, 6 days) until Election Day. 

Stay healthy and safe, take care of yourself and others if you can, and keep reading and listening. xo 

What a week. Unsurprisingly (and gratefully, TBH), as I expected, our school board unanimously agreed that all our elementary and middle school students would start the 20-21 year remotely. (The high schools in my community are in a separate school district). I think our board meeting was mid-last week, after I posted. 

Just a day or two later, Governor Newsom laid out his “pandemic plan” for schools reopening, which you can read here, but basically, around 80% of children in California will be beginning school remotely this year because, among other reasons, they live in COVID-heavy counties. (Related: today [July 22], California unenviably surpassed New York as having the most COVID cases.)  

My children don’t begin school until mid-August, yet I (and likely many others) am so glad that our district made their announcement early if for no other reason than so I can (mentally) plan. My privilege isn’t lost on me, that I won’t have to be juggling a demanding non-mom job while also being my children’s exclusive teacher, but hot damn, being my children’s primary teacher — 4th and kinder simultaneously — is daunting. I tell myself, and the district keeps assuring all of us, that fall will be better than spring, so I remain optimistic. 

There are so many unknowns to all of this; that’s the chorus of 2020 if there ever were one. 

Even though the pandemic has dominated much of our lives for the past twentyish weeks, life continues to move on, which can be both refreshing when it’s good or take-your-breath-away debilitating when it’s bad.

So much has happened in the past nearly five months, stuff that happens anyway, regardless of pandemic occurring: I’m talking people getting pregnant, people moving, people getting married, people having babies, people retiring or starting new jobs, students graduating, all that important life milestone stuff that usually brings with it some type of celebration or group gathering to acknowledge the significance.

All the shitty stuff in life has also continued, too, of course: people passing away (not necessarily from COVID, though that, too, has obviously happened), women having miscarriages, pets dying, people losing their jobs, couples divorcing, and so on. And added to all of this, of course, is the long-overdue racial reckoning that is finally beginning to permeate our societal and individual mentalities, thanks to the amplification of Black Lives Matter over the past few months.

It’s a lot.  

I can easily think of people who have experienced any of the aforementioned (and for some, more than a few, and some at the same time). Any therapist will remind us that to experience any of these life events can be traumatizing. To have more than one, and coupled with the fact that we’re living through a once-a-century pandemic where up is down and right is left and nothing and everything makes sense, surely will be traumatizing. 

Again: it’s a lot. 

Living through this historical period has reinforced to me the importance of checking-in on people whom I care about. It is so easy to get hyperfocused on the minutiae of our daily lives — even in our current brave new world, when so much is so different than usual — but I think it’s on each of us to check-in with each other. 

Obviously, if you’re going to ask how someone is — no, seriously, how that person really is — be prepared to listen. Don’t ask casually because you’ll get a casual answer, and it’s a waste of time, breath, and energy. 

We don’t have to have any answers for each other, but simply being there, being present, can make a huge difference. 

In this way, all of life’s usual excitements and heartaches have taken on an outsized influence right now because we’re experiencing all of them in the absence (or, at the very least, in a significantly modified presence) of our usual support structures. We can no longer simply rely on catching up with each other at school drop-off in the morning because for many of us, there is no drop-off. We can’t bullshit at our kids’ swim practice or at their meets or at our races or at work or whatever because that stuff isn’t occurring right now, or if it is, it’s meaningfully and vastly different than usual. 

It’s on all of us to make a bigger effort than we ever have before to make sure people we love, people in our communities, know that we care and that we are thinking of them. 

My point? Consider this a reminder to check-in on folks in your life whether you think they have their shit together or not. 

Take the time to send a quick message to the person who you think is fine just as you would for the person in your life who’s going through something right now. 

None of us have answers or know it all, but we’re all experiencing and living this right now. 

That can be (read: is) enough of a bridge to harbor a conversation and let people know that they’re in our thoughts. People should know that we care.

We owe it to them. 

On occupying time and settling mental unrest 

#hope5kchallenge update. How about a reprieve of encouragement?! With 15 days remaining in Hope’s Corner’s fundraiser, the 5×5 challenge has already raised over $4,400; when I wrote last week, they were at $1,700. Please consider supporting their efforts if you can. For a small, volunteer-run non-profit, $5k in donations can make a huge difference.  

Reading. So much good stuff lately. In addition to the anti-racism daily that I talked about last week, I recently finished this series from the NYT about biases women face. It’s enlightening (and infuriating), and I highly recommend it. A few days ago, I finished White Rage, and at the risk of sounding laconic here, holy. shit. It is so different from the other books that I’ve read recently — which isn’t a good/bad value statement — and with this being a presidential election year, this book takes on an incomparable urgency. This book absolutely blew me away (while also enraging and sickening me), but wow. Our country has to do better. We have to elect better. People’s lives literally depend on it. I wrote to the author to tell her that she knocked it out of the park with this book. 

Listening. I listened to several informative podcasts in the last week, some new and others a couple months old. A few Code Switch episodes were especially interesting, including “what’s in a ‘Karen,’” Storme DeLarverie, and HolyLand. WorkPlayLove also just posted a new episode, their first in over a month. Diane Nukuri on I’ll Have Another (and the IHA Patreon page) was also a fascinating listen. Some older Keeping Track episodes, about women in NCAA D1 coaching and about the two pregnant Trials runner, were also good listens. 

A bright spot in the pandemic. Yesterday a dear friend from college, Traci (who I talked into doing marathons with me with TNT way back in 2007 to honor her mom and my mom), got married near Mt. Hood in Oregon. The pandemic obviously threw a wrench in her wedding plans, so her wedding guests all over the country tuned into her livestream to see her and her partner tie the knot. It was beautiful to witness — I shamelessly cried just as I would if I were there in person! — and I convinced the fam to dress up to sit on the couch and watch the nuptials and pop some Martinelli’s afterward in our wedding china. 🙂 Congratulations, Traci and Kevin!!!!! 

Running. I keep on keeping on with the pandemic running streak, and most days, I’m gladly returning to ARP each morning to run and “escape,” if only for 90 minutes. It’s so pretty, and every time I go, I think of how lucky I am to have it so accessible. The folks at Big Sur announced a September month-long virtual challenge that I’m considering because I want to support their foundation, and earlier today, the ladies over at  run sheisbeautiful announced their three-part kids’ movement challenge that’ll launch at the end of August, just in time for school to begin. In non-COVID life, this week would have been Wharf to Wharf, so while I elected to not participate in it virtually this year, my kids are still partaking in the summer kids’ challenge and just got their medals the other day in the mail; it made their day. G’s 5k training is in its third week, and tonight she bumped up from 25 to 30 minutes for the first time. It’s fun, and it’s pretty sweet to have strangers see the three of us running together and hear them hollerin’ for the kids 🙂 

One more bright spot in the pandemic: Janet opening her clinic! Last thing for the week: I’m so, so happy and proud to share that Janet will be opening her own clinic very soon here in north San Jose! She’s a Doctor of Physical Therapy, fellow Wolfpack runner, and obviously a dear friend of mine and an amazing human being, and I’m so excited for her and proud of her for taking this amazing next step in her career. You can learn more at her post here. If you’re local to the Bay Area, look her up because the gal knows her stuff, and if you’re not local, no worries; she offers remote appointments as well.  

104 days (14 weeks, 6 days) until Election Day. 

Stay healthy and safe, take care of yourself and others if you can, and keep reading and listening… and cover that mug in public. xo