Running Ruminations

I’m glad I don’t get paid to keep track of COVID-related life where I live because for as much as it seems things have slowed down, it seems like just as quickly, things can change, and then they can change again.

Case in point: last week, I talked about how SCC’s original proposal that they submitted to the state on 7/4 was denied, but then it was resubmitted and approved just a few days later, on 7/7. I guess the major modification was that the new application forbade indoor gatherings (initially, it said something like 20-person indoor gatherings was permissible, which was a bit discordant with reality, given that our case numbers were rising. In other words, why in the world would you want to have 20 people who don’t live with you in your house right now?!). 

Among other aspects, as I understand it, the 7/7 application stated that, for the first time since shelter-in-place began on 3/16, places like gyms, hair and nail salons, tattoo parlors, and the like would be allowed to open, beginning on Monday, 7/13. My family and I aren’t chomping at the bits to go patronize the aforementioned businesses, but I know many people are and want to keep all these (small, locally-owned) businesses afloat. That’s fair. Like I said last week, there seemed to me to be a disconnect between what our COVID numbers were doing — rising — and what our businesses and society were beginning to do — opening — so while I can’t and won’t claim a modicum of expertise on any of this, to me, it didn’t make sense to saunter back toward the good ol’ days.

Sure enough, on Monday at noon, Governor Newsom ordered statewide closures of all types of businesses, including the aforementioned, all bar/brewery/pub operations (indoors and out), and more because CA’s numbers are at their highest ever. So, in other words, here in SJ, a bunch of businesses opened for the first time in four months on Monday. And by today, Wednesday, they’re all closed again, indefinitely. No doubt the calculus behind the decision is multifaceted and warranted, but damn. (are you dizzy yet) 

We naturally can’t talk about business without also talking about (public) school. And of course, because I’m a parent to school-aged children, my mind’s been on school reopening in the next month; I say this knowing full well from the get-go that my family likely won’t be sending our children back to school for the foreseeable future. At our district’s town hall meeting last night, the superintendent revealed that the district, comprised of elementary and middle schools, is taking a phased-in approach to reopening, with 100% of students beginning the year with online learning. A possible hybrid, cohort structure for elementary schools won’t begin until late September, six weeks into the school year (sooner or later, depending on numbers), but regardless, families will be able to opt-in to 100% remote instruction if they choose. (This phased plan series is all subject to board approval, whose meeting is tonight, so I’m assuming that it passes. They’re also in the throes of figuring out a bazillion other details, like after-school rec and childcare programs, extracurriculars, daily free lunch dispersal, and literally probably a hundred more that aren’t occurring to me). 

Whew. It’s kinda wild how a public health emergency is simultaneously so personal and yet so global and how it’s not just a literal matter of life or death, though that obviously matters; I think what can be so paralyzing for so many of us is that the depths of the gray areas that our COVID-dominated lives are swimming in right now are effing brutal. The internet is awash with all types of color commentary about whether or how children should be returning to school this fall, with an inconceivable number of people basing their simple-as-pie reasoning on the claim that “it’s rare that kids get/die from COVID.” Cool, right? 

Everyone has numbers for everything to assert their expertise dominance (including good ol’ Betsy DV herself, the guardian angel of public education in this country … cough), and tons of families will be forced to choose between supporting their children’s at-home instruction for the foreseeable future or their career. Not and, or. And of course, our society being what it is, perhaps it’s no surprise here that women have been and will continue to bear the brunt of all of this, of being the career woman extraordinaire, mom of the year, and homeschool teacher of the century, despite balancing on a house of cards so precarious that a momentary exhalation will send the whole thing toppling, engulfed in flames so hot that no embers remain. 

There’s so much gray area here — despite the apparent million of armchair epidemiologists and public educator experts in the trenches of the internet — and damn. Families, I see you, feel you, and hear you. Families, with parents or caregivers whose employers will simply force them to figure it out between doing their jobs competently, mostly in the absence of childcare, and teaching their progeny everything that they would otherwise be getting from a vast support network at school, my heart goes out to you, and if I could hug you, I enthusiastically would. This is all maddening, scary, emotionally and psychologically whiplash-inducing, and so, so frustrating.     

Teachers, faculty, instructional aides, therapists of every ilk, support staff, the thousands of behinds-the-scenes people who make schools, colleges, and universities function day in and day out, I see you and feel you and hear you, too. This probably wasn’t what you had in mind in your five- (ten-, or twenty-) year plan for your career. 

Here I’d love to end with something more empowering and uplifting, a note on which I could end my weekly diatribe. All I can say is that we’re all in this together. If running has taught me absolutely nothing else, it’s that we must stay in the mile we’re in, and the only way out is through. All my love. 

On occupying time and settling mental unrest 

#Hope5kChallenge update: Hope’s Corner 5x5x5 fundraiser, which kicked off on July 5th, is off and running! Thank you for supporting this great cause. There are still 22 days left to donate, and as of press time, they’ve raised over $1,700 of their $5k goal. Let’s keep the momentum going!

Cooking with friends from afar: My dearest friends from undergrad live all over the place, so it’s rare that we are all able to get together to see each other. We’ve made the most of the bad ongoing situation that is COVID, and we all (with some of our progeny in tow!) took an online cooking class together over the weekend. It was really fun, and I’ve been eating the leftovers all week long. If you’re looking for a way to connect with your friends who don’t live near you, check it out. It was during our cooking class that C cut both girls’ hair by a couple inches each, haha. (They look wonderful, but I was surprised!). 

Listening: By now it’s an old episode, but the Keeping Track episode on Aliphine after she won the Trials was a welcome ray of sunshine from the torrent of bad news right now. The most recent KT episode about the Saucony president, Anne Cavassa, is also fantastic and a must-listen. Ali’s chat recently with the KT hosts was also a great listen, especially when the four of them talked about the recent KT episode about racing, running, and representation as it relates to the past several years’ worth of running magazines’ covers. Code Switch’s deep dive into qualified immunity is also a must-listen this week.   

Reading: The kids and I are almost through One Crazy Summer and Resist (both so good!). In the past week, I started White Rage, and it is so good (and informative, enlightening, maddening, saddening, all the emotions). Parts are admittedly really challenging to get through, but it’s so important to know as much as we can. Know better, do better, teach better. Related: props to Erica for alerting me about the anti-racist daily, a quick and informative daily email. I highly suggest you subscribe, especially if you want to grow in your antiracism commitment but don’t necessarily have a ton of time to read a full-length book right now.  

Running: We’re in the throes of week two of 5k training for my youngest, and it’s mostly a good time. It’s pretty hilarious, TBH. We’re doing the same plan that we did for A, which is a free one from Girls on the Run, and so far, we’ve done five 25-minute runs and each one is right around 1.5 miles. It’s pretty interesting to watch how fast she has taken to the predictability of it (“it’s Monday, which means we run tonight!” for example), which is part of the reason why I started “training” both kids during SIP. With new restrictions because of rising COVID numbers, swimming for both girls is delayed indefinitely again, so I foresee a lot of running in our future. Not a bad thing.    

Fifteen weeks, six days until election day (but who’s counting).

Take care, keep reading, and be well and safe this week. Wear a mask. xo

The hardest part about writing is getting started. I haven’t kept track, but my guess is that I’ve written and rewritten the beginning part of this weekly update upwards of ten times since I began writing it this afternoon, and I keep backtracking, deleting, and rewording because it seems that I don’t have the words to properly express my sentiments right now, sixteen weeks into shelter in place and a COVID-dominated life.

Of course, I am profoundly lucky to be at home, to be safe, to be keeping my children and my family healthy and safe, and my family elsewhere also continues to be safe and well, even those who work in the medical field. There are millions of people worldwide (and these ranks are growing daily) who no longer have the luxury of saying that they and/or their families are well, because they are or were sick, and it is gutting, and tragic, and so incredibly sad. 

It angers me how some people are seemingly “opting out” of this virus-dominated life right now. My main question: how? I would love to know and understand the reasoning behind the person who lives within a half-mile from me who was having what looked to be the party of the year a few weeks ago in their teeny, tiny yard, with tons of people shoulder-to-shoulder, but hey, who am I to judge? Maybe all 30 partygoers actually live in that small ranch that’s secretly an underground mansion compound. Spending time at the beach with the kids earlier this week was a welcome reprieve — and very easy to physically distance ourselves from other beachgoers — but I repeatedly pulled myself back from asking other patrons walking along the wharf (many who were in their 40s+, walking along with their elderly parents, all unmasked) their logic behind choosing not to wear a mask. I see pictures elsewhere, in other areas of the country, where restaurants and bars are open, and people are going shopping indoors without trepidation, and it’s easy to pile-in to small spaces, shoulder to shoulder, for those wonderful great group pictures; what’s going through your mind when you’re literally breathing other people’s air? Better still, what’s it like to have company over to your home — inside!?  

It’s not that I’m necessarily mourning or yearning for the good ol’ days when we could do all of the aforementioned without fear of contracting an unknown, ill-understood, deadly virus. I’m most bothered — and growing increasingly angry over — that seemingly huge segments of this population have decided that they cannot be bothered by this trifling virus, so they’re just going to pretend that it’s not relevant to them and just live their lives, as though they are, in some way, in control.

Isn’t that hilarious? This virus is just that, a virus, not some sentient being, and it sure as hell doesn’t care if you’re tired of it. That so many people think that they are immune to its inconveniences (and, ya know, its existential threat to them… detail schmetails though right) is just inconceivable to me. Here’s a similar parallel: when I was growing up, like a lot of girls, getting my period was a major annoyance. I eventually thought that maybe I could mentally will it away, that somehow — on my own accord, sans medical intervention — I could be in control of it, its duration, its heaviness, its intensity, whatever. 

Ask me how it turned out.

On occupying time and settling mental unrest 

Listening. Two podcasts that stood out to me in the past week stood in the crosshairs of running and racism: Samia Akbar on Ali on the Run and Keeping Track’s episode entitled Racing for Representation. They’re each a good 90 minute listen, and they’re both really well done. I’m fascinated to see how (and if) Runner’s World will respond in future issues, though to be fair, I haven’t been a paid subscriber in years. 

Reading. In the past week, I finished Between the World and Me and Thick, and they were both excellent and very different. Everyone raves about Between — as they should — but I haven’t heard as much about Thick, so please allow me to be the person to implore you to pick it up. It’s a collection of essays that are far-ranging in topic, but it was a fascinating read and took me back to graduate school. I’m linking it here because I think that if you’re interested in reading anything about race in this country right now, this book should be on your list. 

Running. All well here, fortunately. June was solid, with over 252 miles and more than 16,200’ of climbing, right around the same number of miles I’ve been doing lately and a bit more climbing than usual (no doubt thanks to ARP being open). With A’s 5k training this entire month (and ‘officially’ wrapping up this week), it meant that I got to run with my daughter (or daughters, plural) three times a week, which brings me more joy than I can describe. 

Stuff to do with the kiddos. The beach just opened last week Friday, so the kids and I went the other day, which was wonderful. The next day, we went to pick berries for the first time this season, too. It was nice to get some fresh air and leave our immediate neighborhood.   

Be safe, stay well, and continue to listen and learn, gang, because it’s the only way we’re all getting out of here.  xo