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COVID, week 4 & more of the same

COVID, week 4 & more of the same

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Another week is behind us in this COVID-19 world we’re living in. Not a lot has changed from last week (that I can readily think of) in terms of California’s/the Bay Area’s shelter-in-place orders or remote education through the end of the school-year, though of course the daily (or hourly) news updates assault us all with ongoing existential threats that all but preclude any type of “normalcy” from setting in. We’re all hour-to-hour right now, but it doesn’t make things any easier or less stressful. Strength isn’t always in numbers. 

Actually, now that I think of it a bit more, two new developments come to mind that manifested in the past seven days: (one) the WHO, CDC, and local governments advising that everyone wear masks (of any type) when out and about, performing essential tasks and (two) stores beginning to more stringently crowd-control how many people are shopping indoors at any given time. 

At this point, I can’t speak to the ramifications of the latter because I haven’t been shopping anywhere in the past week. 

As to the former, for me, all it has meant is that I generally don’t leave home for my runs without a balaclava that I can quickly pull over my mouth and nose in the event that I can’t easily get around people I encounter. Admittedly, I feel pretty idiotic wearing a balaclava over my face when I go to the post office to drop-off packages (and where I don’t even interact with anyone or touch any surface) and when I pull it up over my face when I’m running in the proximity of other people. I guess if the government (and respected, reputable health organizations) worldwide are advising that we do this, though, then so be it. These types of recommendations seem to change frequently, so who knows if this will even be relevant next week. Hard telling. 

I sincerely hope that you and yours are all doing well and are staying safe and healthy. We are all riding this wave together, and accompanying our high highs are no doubt low lows. Our respective challenges (and celebrations!) may look different on the surface level, but I think it’s also worth remembering that we are at our best when we recognize our shared humanity. This recognition doesn’t necessarily make anything easier — we can still be sad, or angry, or anxious, or experience whatever the feeling of the moment is — but remembering that we’re all navigating uncertain waters can help center us and bring us back. There is value in being informed and apprised of the latest surrounding all of this, and I’d also argue that there’s also real value in surrounding ourselves — and our very precious mental real estate — with cautious optimism, too. Look for the helpers. Be a helper. Do and be the best you can do and be right now because that’s enough. 

On occupying time and settling mental unrest:     

  • Watching: I don’t remember what inspired us, but we watched The Pink Panther Strikes Again over the weekend. Somewhat remarkably, we watched it from start to finish, and nobody left or fell asleep! It’s silly but a lot of fun for kids (and adults). C and I just realized that we haven’t shown the kids any of the Back to the Future movies yet, so that’s probably up next. 
  • Celebrating: Nothing like turning the big 4-0 in the throes of a pandemic. In the preceding weeks, the kids and I painted more than 40 mostly rainbow-filled signs adorned with messages like “happy 40th birthday, Daddy!”, “40 is the way to be!”, “we love you lots!” and other equally encouraging and uplifting messages. I usually like to post and remove decorations fast, but we decided to keep everything up for the rest of the month, just ‘cuz. 
#thisisforty
  • Failing at: Sewing. I am beyond terrible. T-e-r-r-i-b-l-e. I had been sitting on the idea of getting a sewing machine for a long time, in part because I wanted to learn how to sew-on all the patches and badges A earns from Girl Scouts. Then, everything with COVID happened, and I thought perfect, I’ll learn to sew, do some GS stuff, maybe make some masks, and so on the aspirational thinking went. A little backstory: when I last learned how to use a sewing machine, it was 7th grade, and it took me a solid quarter learning how to thread the damn thing (and literally, I successfully did it for the first time on the last day of our sewing unit, before we switched to cooking and baking). At this point, I can say that I’m at least *a little* more adept than I was as a middle-schooler … but it’s not by much, unfortunately. I know I have to keep working at it, but damn, it’s not easy! I’m so outside my comfort zone here. There’s value in learning new things, absolutely, but seriously… I am horrible!  
  • Running: In the absence of races and being allowed to run my fav local trails, I figure this is as good a time as any to go after all the road hills close to home that I usually don’t run very often. At this point, I’ve traded speedy running workouts with all the hills, and it’s a fun way to start my day, plus I feel like it’s helping me get stronger and faster. My club has a little spiel going on instagram where we’re posting about our #lonewolf runs, so if you’re running solo now, too, hop in on the action and talk about your #lonewolf training. It’s encouraging to see other people doing the same and to give kudos from afar.  
more livestock than people in these parts
I ran in the late morning both on Saturday and Sunday, so she came with. Note the balaclava (since we stopped at the PO). We got rained on both days, but she didn’t mind. It won’t be much longer before she sizes out of the running stroller. 🙁
  • Cooking: We’ve continued to eat at home for virtually all of our meals, which I don’t mind (being vegetarian kinda lends itself to eating at home more often than not). I could eat soup or stew every day of the week and not get bored of it, but in the past week, I only made two: a lentil pumpkin curry stew and a roasted tomato and white bean soup. Otherwise, I made roasted sweet potatoes; chickpea ratatouille (which also makes fantastic taco fillings), and some homemade bread. I see people talking online about comfort foods that they’re consuming in voluminous amounts during the SIP orders, and I think I will forever associate tacos with this time period. I’m certain I’ve consumed more tacos in the past ~month than I have in most of my adulthood. It’s not a bad thing. 
  • Listening: As a result of exclusively running solo now, I’ve re-introduced podcasts into my runs as I feel like it; sometimes I just want to listen to the birds outside, but other times I want to hear humans. Arguably the best one that I’ve heard in recent weeks was the debut episode from the Growth Equation, hosted by Brad Stulberg and Steve Magness, who are also the co-writers of the newsletter by the same name that I’ve mentioned in recent weeks. I listened during my Monday morning run, and I really, really enjoyed it. I think I may re-listen to it so I can write about it in more detail later, but if you want to think about how you can navigate “performance” and “well-being” in the backdrop that is the pandemic right now, look no further. I was impressed at how well-done and seamless the episode was — their first! — and genuinely look forward to future episodes. 
  • Watching: Another recommendation but this time for a YouTube series by John Krasinski. The fam and I watched the first episode, and I shamelessly cried a good, uplifting cry. It’s worth it. 

Be safe, and stay well. xo

COVID, week 1 & Kelly McDonigal, PhD’s The Joy of Movement

COVID, week 1 & Kelly McDonigal, PhD’s The Joy of Movement

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At the rate we’re going, I’ll have little memory of this all in a week, so I suppose it’s worthwhile to write it out here as much for you — to compare to what’s going on where you live — as it is for me,  to remember how fast life can change. 

COVID-19 seems to have had a similar effect on time as does child-rearing, wherein the days are somehow really long and really short at the same time. It sounds impossible until you’re in the thick of it, and then suddenly, you get it. 

Since last week’s writings — which seem like a lifetime ago at this point — Santa Clara County is one of many counties in northern California to have issued a Shelter in Place, basically barring residents from leaving home except for very specific reasons, like going to a job that’s essential for society or for getting groceries or medicine. Fortunately, leaving home to exercise outside is allowed, though stipulations still apply: maintain the social distance of at least six feet (unless you’re with people with whom you reside), no big groups (nothing over 10, if I recall correctly), and so on. 

It’s a little weird, to say the least. 

not that we usually run while holding hands or anything, but it is weird to run alongside someone while keeping a very specific buffer zone.

In the mix of our homeschooling adventure — oh, right! I forgot to mention that A’s school is closed at least through the beginning of April and G’s preschool is right there as well, though it’s quite likely that both children will be out of school for (much) longer. It was around mid-day on Friday, March 13, that schools in SCC began communicating with families that they were closing for several weeks to help mitigate the virus’s spread. Somewhere around that time, late last week, most/a lot of the tech companies here (or whose hdq are here) told their entire workforces to transition to working remotely, and so it seemed nearly overnight, we (my family yes, but California in general) went from a fairly typical go to school, go to work, go to extracurriculars, do life as you know it routine to a screeching, full-stop halt, a life where if whatever it is isn’t happening out of your home, chances are quite, quite high that it ain’t happening at all… or if it is, it’s in a way unlike anything you’ve ever done before. 

can’t help but wonder how their little brains are making sense of all this weirdness

Again: it’s all a little weird, to say the least.   

The kids and I have been diligent about getting outside for fresh air (PE? sure!) because that’s a normal thing to do, even if what we’re doing right now — having school at the kitchen table, led by yours truly– is completely abnormal. (Quick tangent here to say that my mom is a retired public school educator and education administrator, so I’ve grown up knowing first-hand how overworked and underappreciated these souls are. Props, again, to the educators who make the world go round. I spent more time this morning explaining, and re-explaining, to my preschooler the various ways one could make a capital- and lower-cased X than is probably necessary. I know I’m no substitution for Ms. M, but deargod!). Anyway.

fresh air and the outdoors, all normal

We have been following a daily schedule to the best of our abilities because I’m pretty sure most of us (humans in general, yes, but my progeny in particular) do better with routines than they do with chaos — and especially during a trying time like now, with a seeming million unknowns flying around and news (fake or otherwise) coming at us at light speed. My job is to give them normalcy, so even in the utter lack thereof wherein we’re currently residing in Silicon Valley, I am trying to make our days have rhythms and cadence similar to what they’d have at school. 

Trying, of course, is the operative word.

recent rains (finally!) are making the plantlife quite magnificent and that nearby stream quite active

In recent weeks, I’ve mentioned how good The Joy of Movement was, and I still wholeheartedly stand by it. My quick and dirty book review of it is basically that if you’ve ever considered yourself someone who loves to move your body — however you do it — because it just makes you feel good, this book is for you. It backs-up all of those hunches you’ve had about exercise’s effect on you, particularly on your mental health, with all types of research and studies that are meaningful and pertinent.

If the opposite is true — that you’ve never really considered yourself to be someone who quote-unquote LIKES exercise — this book is still for you. I think the author does a solid job of convincing everyone that they have something, a few things, really, to gain from exercising, in terms of their mental health. It’s a solid read, fairly quick, and if you’re in the market for something from which you want to walk away feeling inspired (and chompin’ for a run [or your movement of choice]), The Joy of Movement is for you. 

Finishing The Joy of Movement right before COVID-19 blew up reminded me of how important I deem exercise (and specifically, running) to my health. It’s as natural to me each day as, I don’t know, breathing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, my movement of choice brings me immense joy, regardless of my pace, my distance, how much climbing I did, or any other metric that only runners care about, and I’ve often ruminated on how lucky I am to be able to do it in the first place. I’m fortunate to be able to want to do it and be physically able to, yes, but I’m also fortunate to be in a position where my life circumstances allow me to. My privilege isn’t lost on me. (Another quick aside to say that Nick Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn’s new book, Tightrope, is so, so good and also heartbreaking. Reading it in the midst of the COVID shutdown is another level. More to come, highly recommended). 

Regarding running and COVID: over the past few days, with COVID and shelter-in-place and everything else engulfing everyone’s attention span, I noticed that my running has changed ever-so-slightly. It’s not necessarily because my goal races are out the window, which they absolutely should be — Big Sur announced its postponement last week, the spring PA schedule is decimated, and I imagine Mountains to Beach will make their postponement announcement any day now — but I think it’s because I’ve instinctively needed running to be something other than it was for me in days prior. 

In the past week, all I want is to hear the birds singing, or the cows bellowing, or nothing at all. 

Hearing my breathing is enough. 

Seeing the electric pink of a burgeoning sunrise reminds me that I’m here for this, right now. 

I could tell you what yesterday was like, or I could take a stab at hypothesizing what tomorrow will bring, but in doing either (or both), I’d be missing out on what’s unfolding before me, all the messy and uncomfortable bits of it. 

Or I could just stay right here, in this present moment, and roll. It might be a colossal failure, and it might not be pretty, but trying again and again is the only option. 

If movement has taught me nothing else, it has taught me the value in staying put — uncomfortable as it may be sometimes — and that eventually, a path appears, and the only way out is through.