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COVID, week 2 & people are baffling sometimes

COVID, week 2 & people are baffling sometimes

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Much as I had predicted in last week’s writings, last week feels like a decade+ ago, and each week right now seems like it’s at least a year, maybe a couple years, long. (There’s research to support the claim that when you’re in the thick of something undesirable, time takes on new and paradoxical dimensions. Hat-tip to the Growth Equation newsletter for the link).

So what can I add to the ongoing, mildly dumpster-fire conversation about how COVID has upended all of our lives? My hot-take attempts: 

Races *should* be canceling, and no, they don’t owe you or me anything, including refunds or deferrals, at all. Races have a social, public health, and dare I say moral responsibility to be canceling right now — particularly if they were set to happen anytime in the next couple months — and I would surmise that even races set to occur in the autumn may not come to fruition. Hell, maybe this will be the year of no racing in the interest of the public good; who knows. As athletes, sure, it’s frustrating to train and work hard to race as fast and strong as we can, and it absolutely stinks that when races cancel, we don’t have anywhere “to put forth,” for lack of a better phrase, our fitness that we worked so hard to gain. (Related: Mountains to Beach Marathon finally announced their cancellation this week. A new date or plan hasn’t yet been announced).

Here’s the thing though: race directors are canceling their races because they’re following orders from county (or state, or national, or global) health authorities. It would be disastrous and irresponsible for the races to go forth as planned. I think most runners would agree with me that races shouldn’t be occurring right now or for the foreseeable future. 

Where my opinion isn’t shared with many, however, is that I am adamant that RDs who have to cancel (or postpone) their races don’t owe their runners anything. As I’ve seen more and more races having to cancel because of the pandemic, it seems like some runners are misdirecting their rage at RDs and think that they’re somehow entitled to a deferral or refund; worst yet, if RDs don’t offer their runners cash back, somehow those RDs are greedy or irresponsible or shitty at their jobs. I encourage runners who disagree with me to read these wonderful accounts from RDs. There is no money left to give you — unless you prefer that RDs/race organizations go bankrupt and there is no more (insert race of choice here) in 2021 or beyond. Many races are operated by very small teams or organizations or non-profits — not mega huge corporations — so it’s disingenuous to assume that RDs are secretly sitting on a pile of cash from all their runners. The cash is gone, friends. I think it’s that simple. For more on the subject:  

the new norm

Everyone’s stressed/nervous/whatever and (hopefully) has coping mechanisms to deal, but common sense and civility is still worth a damn. With California’s statewide Shelter-in-Place order, not a whole ton has changed in our day-to-day since last week. Fortunately, we are still allowed to run (or more generally, exercise outdoors), but the onus is on us, individually, to maintain the six-feet social distance radius. Janet and I have continued to run together a few times a week, at least six feet apart (it makes it hard to hear sometimes, but it’s easily rectifiable by repeating yourself a thousand times), typically early in the morning. 

The other day as we were vacating Alum Rock (*before 3/27, when the city closed the park indefinitely) around ~7am, we were running single-file on the path, on the correct side for outbound pedestrian traffic, and two older-adult hikers, using hiking poles, were on the same shared path as us entering the park. Janet and I couldn’t have been further away from these hikers — we would have been literally in the bushes — and frustratingly, instead of the hikers moving away from us (as we did from them), they stayed in the dead-center of the path and threw their poles up in the air, perpendicular from their bodies as Janet was passing them, screaming “SOCIAL DISTANCE!!!” Luckily, Janet didn’t get speared or otherwise become a human shish-kabob, but it was nonetheless baffling that somehow the hikers seemed to assert that we were wrong to pass them, single file, more than six feet away, and to “defend” themselves they instituted a hiking-pole radius around them. Literally taking two lateral steps in the opposite direction from us — just as we had done from them — would have sufficed.  

In other news, a couple days later as I was running on a major street here in town, also around the 7 o’clock hour, I was standing at a stoplight waiting to cross eastbound to head into the hills. While I was standing at the light, a gentleman in a red Camaro directly in front of me, heading south, caught my eye as he was making all manner of sexually suggestive motions my way. I didn’t give him the time of day — just another dumbshit who obviously gets a thrill out of harassing female runners — yet soon after his light turned green, he drove through the intersection, pulled a U-turn, and proceeded back my way. I was baffled — like this surely couldn’t be happening — yet indeed, the same guy went out of his way to turn his car around to again situate himself in front of me (as I was still waiting for the light to come on) to continue to making sexually suggestive motions in my direction. He very slowly drove northbound, and my heart stopped when he indicated he was going to turn; thankfully, he pulled into a side street and didn’t pay me a third visit. The entire time I ran east, for the next mile+, the image of the red Camaro and the dude were seared in my mind. 

down with coronavirus … and crappy, harassing motorists (drawing c/o my 4 year-old)

I don’t typically talk about my experiences with dumb-shit motorists who harass me on the run because I can usually shake it off and just allow it amount to nothing. I think this experience was a little jarring simply because of the high-anxiety backdrop we’re all living in at the moment. We’re not supposed to run in large groups anymore, so does that mean by running solo (for our health and that of the world) we are potentially compromising our individual safety? 

The world may feel a little weird right now, and people are on high alert and worried that they or someone they love will fall victim to this insidious, microscopic virus … but rest assured that there are still dumbfucks out there who will go out of their way to harass people simply because they can. Ugh. On that note, mere days into this COVID-19-induced SIP I noticed that people were still spray-paint graffiting penises on sound walls in my part of the city; maybe some people’s coping mechanisms are simply superior to others’. 

Another reading recommendation to help you remember pre-COVID life: While coronavirus is scary and unknown and somewhat all-consuming right now, sometimes it’s hard to remember that there was a shitstorm of bad stuff going on in our lives before all of this erupted. I recently finished Nick Kristoff and Sheryl WuDunn’s new book, Tightrope, and I can’t recommend it enough. It’s not exactly fun reading — par for the course for most topics of theirs — but it’s important that we remember a huge segment of society whose lives will be/are being even more upended when all of this coronavirus stuff is behind us. (I felt gutted when I read Nick’s recent column this week that said the last Knapp child just died of an overdose).

Keep hangin’ and say thank you. Last thing — and a proud mom moment. My siblings are in health care, and I’ve talked with my girls about how we’re all staying home right now so that lots of people won’t get needlessly sick and perhaps die. I’ve also explained, as best I can, that only certain places are open — the super important stores and facilities — to also minimize risk and exposure. In the past week I had to drop-off items to the post office, and my eldest insisted that I wait 20 minutes so that she and her sister could make signs for the workers. I dropped-off the finished products, and the next time I had to return, I noticed the PO employees had hung them up. Thank you to all of our many essential employees right now, both near and far. 

Take care, stay safe, and be 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.