Running Ruminations

Yet another week of the shitshow quagmire is behind us, and with a new week comes new statistics: California has passed the 800,000 COVID-19 cases mark; worldwide, we’ve surpassed 1 million COVID-19 deaths (more than influenza, measles, HIV, cholera, and malaria, combined, during the same period), and apparently we’re collectively *this* close to surpassing TB or hepatitis as the world’s deadliest infectious disease (but in reality, probably already have; it’s just that the official COVID-19 counts are likely pretty low). 

Meanwhile, we continue to hurtle toward what feels like democracy free-fall with DT exhibiting his lunacy for all the world to see at last night’s debates; we have new fires burning in northern California (the closest one to us is in the Napa/Santa Rosa area); and in general, it often feels like the malaise and rage that has punctuated 2020 continues to magnify with each passing day and leaves me wondering when or what the breaking point will be.

I think there’s a fine line to walk right now, specifically between being sufficiently informed and sufficiently naive. Naivete comes with privilege, of course — because those most oppressed never have the option to turn it off or tune it out when it all becomes too unbearable — yet at the same time, I often wonder where or when to draw the line to avoid becoming consumed with All That is Terrible right now in life (and there is plenty of it, as we all know damn well by now). 

In the earliest days of Shelter-in-Place, I remember beginning each of my days with a pretty decent cry. Here’s how it would go: every morning, as I drank my tea before going out for a run, while the rest of my household was asleep and while the sun was rising, I’d easily spend upwards of 60-90+ minutes trying to read as much as I possibly could related to the pandemic. I wanted to know and read everything, from what was going on in all the states, where I have immediate family, to what was going on here, in my county, as well as what other countries were doing at any given time. 

Every morning I’d find myself succumbing to a somewhat predictable, fairly cathartic morning cry as I read another horrifying and heartbreaking story about people — none of whom I knew — who had died or were dying of this terrible virus, about which we knew virtually nothing or precious little almost seven months ago. You sometimes hear about people who are addicted to “tragedy porn” or “disaster porn,” which wasn’t my MO; instead, I convinced myself that if I read as much as I humanly could each and every day, I’d be able to ensure that my family and I would successfully avoid the worst. I was determined to read my/my family’s way out of (through) this.  

As you can probably ascertain, this habit quickly became unsustainable, though admittedly, having a good cry every now and then — but probably not every single day —  does kinda feel good. 

Now that the weirdness of living in the COVID-19-dominated landscape has become heartbreakingly more second-nature — and scientists and medical pros know how all of us can mitigate our risks — I’m finding that my attempts to read my way out of all of this is applying to the upcoming elections. Much like the earliest days of the pandemic, though it may sound hyperbolic, I feel as though our lives and livelihoods are literally on the line, and somehow I’ll be able to self-educate my way out of it.

There’s probably some coping mechanism hidden beneath all of these behaviors, yet each day that we barrel closer to the election — and each day that we add to the seemingly never-ending lifespan that is our current, COVID-19-dominated lives — I’m finding that I’m becoming better attuned to knowing when I’ve hit that sweet, Goldilocks spot of ENOUGH. It isn’t so much of a strict timeline, like an I’ll read the news for an hour today and that is it, as much as it is a feeling of media satiation. 

I have come to terms that I will never be able to read the internet, and let me tell you, coming to those terms is liberating. 

Again, much of this is tinged with privilege and guilt — because obviously, many people can never opt-out of the persecution they endure each and every day of their lives — yes, and also, it’s in part a matter of self-preservation and sustainability. How I commit myself to doing the work each and every day is a singular matter, and by its very nature, how that looks for me will be inherently different from how it looks for you. So many “causes,” for lack of a better phrase, need allies, and we as allies are useless if we’re emotionally (or rationally or whatever else) unavailable. 

It’s that whole notion of putting on your life preserver first before attending to others’. Once we disabuse ourselves of the notion that it’s selfish, we can finally begin to see how important it really is. 

Perhaps not coincidentally, with Election Day being a mere 34 days from now, the wonderful ladies at Run She.is.Beautiful are launching their October-long challenge that they’re calling the Generate Good Energy challenge. I love this race and the women behind it, so I’m happy to support their work any day of the week, but the timing of this really couldn’t be better. 

We collectively are entering into a month that will no doubt be beset with emotions of all degrees and intensities, and it will be effortless to bog ourselves down in the shittiest of shitshows (sorry, profanity). It’s on all of us to make choices each and every day to pull ourselves (and maybe also our families and partners and friends) out of the haze and to (literally and figuratively) put one shoe in front of the other and move toward progress, whatever that looks like. 

In particular, I dig any endeavor that encourages people to participate in physical activity of any type because we all know how truly life-altering all of it has the capacity to be. Beyond that, though, I’m all for doing the work, daily, to temper the doom-and-gloom with reminders that there still are beams of positivity in each and every day — even if they aren’t necessarily as evident as before. 

With that in mind, then, I’ll start: within the past week, my youngest decided that she was ready to ride her bike, and she just went out and did it, with very little assistance from me. Now that she is five, many of the childhood movement milestones are well behind her (rolling over, crawling, walking, and the like), so it has been especially joyful to watch her confidence grow each day in her riding. Turning and braking are works in progress, of course, but she tells me that she has “bike fever” because any time we have a break in distance learning, we bolt outside because she wants to practice. I cringe when she falters — and of course she does, because that’s part of learning — but I couldn’t be prouder when she gets up and tries again. (And naturally, I’m already wondering when she’ll be interested in going on a ride-run with her sister and me on bikes/on foot).

Just like I reflected on earlier this year, when it was my kids’ birthdays, on the one hand, it’s weird as hell to go through the experience of having a milestone during the pandemic — because among other things, it’s just so anticlimactic — yet at the same time, it’s an excellent reminder that even when so much seems so bad, the good endures. 

As hard as it will be to not bury my head in the sand over the next month and lament, I am committed to reflecting, daily, and generating good energy. It’s less a matter of brainwashing myself into toxic positivity than it is reminding myself that there still remains love and happiness in this heartbreaking-as-hell year.  

I’m curious to hear how you are balancing the positive with the god-awful this year. What do you do to pull yourself together and out of lulls? How do you know when you’ve reached your Goldilocks sweet spot of ENOUGH? 

And finally, some six-word poems: 

Whirring mind nightly. No answers suffice. 

I can’t read out of this. 

Daily recommitment. Small steps. Rinse repeat.

—-

On occupying time and settling mental unrest

Reading. Admittedly not a lot in the past week, save for PS Be Eleven with the kids. Like I mentioned above, much of my free-time reading (of which there isn’t a lot) is about the election or the pandemic. I want to resume my regular routines but have to fight for the mental real estate first. 

Listening. Still not a lot here either, though last week I listened to about two hours’ worth of Megan and David Roche between their episode and Lindsey Hein’s episodes on her regular feed and on Patreon. Most of the time when I’m running by myself, I’ve been perfectly content to listen to nothing but my environment, though for whatever reason, during the first two hours of my long run on Saturday, I chose to listen to the Roches. I think I was craving some positivity; it delivered. 

Running. I wrapped up September with over 200 miles (~206, ~11,000’), which was a bump up from August (~182, ~8,200’), when we lost a lot of outdoors time due to poor AQ, but a decrease from July’s higher mileage (~273, ~18,000’), from when the kids were still on summer break and I didn’t have much of a morning curfew to observe. As always, I’m grateful to be able to run at all, and we are so lucky to have had better air more often than not in September than what we had in August.  

I’m in the throes of the Big Sur Marathon’s Big Surreal challenge, so I’m toying with the idea of completing an on-my-own marathon just ‘cuz, though to be completely transparent, my motivation and interest changes damn near daily. For whatever reason though, I decided to run ~16-18 on Saturday and settled on 18 and nearly 2,800’ in ARP and OSP, and I don’t think I stopped smiling all day that day, between the run and New Found Glory’s livestreamed at-home concert. I battered my quads in the process — downhill running feels treacherous sometimes!! — but between blue skies and just going by feel, without any pace prescriptions or goals, it was GLORIOUS. CIM finally cancelled, too. 

It’s that time of year! Family pictures! And in the absence of school pictures this year, these puppies are pretty special. 

34 days until Election Day (4 weeks, 6 days).  

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