Browsed by
Category: running

COVID, week 5 & predicting the future?

COVID, week 5 & predicting the future?

Comments 9 comments

Life sure has been weird since the initial announcements on Friday, March 13, and even though in the grand scheme of things, today is not that much later — it’s April 15 — all I can think is that time is going both really fast and really slowly simultaneously. It makes me think of having a newborn, except it’s like we’re all newborns, and we’re all caring for newborns. It’s disorienting. 

Two recent developments, closely related, worth discussing come to mind right now: Governor Newsom’s conference yesterday and the recent announcement of a rescheduled race date for Big Sur. The tl;dr version of Newsom’s address is that everyone wants to have a date on the calendar when life will go back to normal (or normal-ish), but alas, this virus doesn’t play nicely like that. No one knows because none of us can foretell the future, much to our chagrin. 

why are you even here reading this? — the signs are getting sassy. #seenonmyrun

At the conclusion of his address, a reporter asked about big public gatherings– 49ers games, parades, whatever– and Newsom remarked that having anything like that is basically inconceivable until there’s a vaccine and herd immunity. I think it’s the answer that everyone rationally knows but no one wants to hear because we know that that stuff takes time, a lot of time, and no one wants to give any more of their lives, livelihood, the whole gamut to this pandemic than they already have. Let’s use a running metaphor here and say that the road ahead of us is long, quite long indeed. 

Just a day before Gov. Newsom’s address came Big Sur’s announcement of a rescheduled BSIM date, November 15, 2020, over the same weekend as the regularly-scheduled Monterey Bay Half Marathon, with the half occurring on Saturday and the marathon (and several other distances that are usually part of marathon weekend) happening on Sunday. Runners’ registrations will default to the November 2020 race date, but we can instead elect to register for the 2021 edition (in April) or the 2022 edition (also in April) at 60% of race cost. Alternately, we can decide not to run it at all, anytime, and use the registration as a charitable donation to the BS foundation that runs the race. In a moment in time where so few of us have options, the BS race team is giving runners many options, and that is impressive and commendable. 

Here’s the thing. As much as I’d love to run this race — and I’ve tried for many years, unsuccessfully, to enter it via the lottery and finally got in this year — right now it is unfathomable to me that it’ll go on in November. 

BSIM is a huge event, in terms of participant numbers, in a relatively small location, and thinking about those realities against the current reality where we find ourselves — where we’re being instructed to maintain a six-foot physical distance between ourselves and strangers at all times, where we’re really not supposed to be galavanting around in public or hell, where we’re not even supposed to be spending time with people with whom we don’t reside — having a large-scale race (or rather, several large-scale races) over a single weekend in seven months is inconceivable to me right now. 

I would love to be wrong about this, and I remain optimistic that the best in the world will create something that will protect all of humanity against this nefarious enemy that has upended everyone’s lives, but we can’t be naiive. This stuff takes time. In the grand scheme of thing, seven months is nothing. 

Let’s also talk about the (financial and otherwise) risk that the BS organizers are taking with moving the marathon (and marathon weekend races) to November. In one of the posts I linked to a few weeks ago, from a RD about cancelling races, they talked about the huge financial risks that the BS board (who also run the Monterey Bay Half Marathon) took by allowing the 2018 MBHM entrants to register for the 2019, 2020, or 2021 race since the ‘18 iteration was cancelled, literally the day before race day, due to the poor air quality from the horrific Camp Fire ~100 miles north of Monterey. It was a terrible fire, among the worst in California history, responsible for tons of deaths and destruction and event cancellations up and down California. 

With BSIM now slated for November, the same organizers may find themselves in the same dilemma in November — in the midst of a pandemic AND in fire season — and with several events that routinely draw in thousands of runners from all over the world and country. I cannot imagine the decision-making processes, logistics, and the enormous financial ramifications involved in possibly moving thousands of runners, over several different races, again this year to a future year (or years, plural). 

Again: that the board is even trying is laudable in my book. We’ll see what happens. Your thoughts? 

On occupying time and settling mental unrest:     

  • Watching: Trolls World Tour three times this past weekend, since we rented it on Friday night for 48 hours. Let me know what you think (and tell me what you make of the plot compared to Frozen 2)! 
  • Celebrating: Easter over the weekend with the family, though not in any religious sense. The kids were completely amped about it, which was sweet to see.  
  • Running: Daily, #lonewolf (or sometimes with the girls), however I want and typically not more than 8-10 miles, usually on fairly hilly or rolling routes that I can easily create out my door. I developed an unintentional run streak since 3/9, so I imagine that I’ll keep it up because … why not? 
the green is gorgeous right now
  • Cooking: I had a lot of leftovers in the past week but also created some vegetarian marathon bolognese (excellent taco fillings!) and the superfoods soup from the Run Fast Cook Fast Eat Slow cookbooks. I’ve made the soup twice now and haven’t been impressed with it, which is odd because it’s fairly idiot-proof. 
  • Reading: Still going strong on Hitchhiker’s Guide (albeit slowly) and in the last week I finished Mitch Albom’s Finding Chika and started Gavin Edwards’ Kindness and Wonder about Mr. Rogers. Chika was predictably depressing– I’m not sure why I decided to read this now– and so far, learning about Mr. Rogers has been a bit of a palate-cleanser to life. 
  • Listening: the second episode of the Growth Equation podcast was pretty interesting, especially since I knew nothing about Sabrina Ionescu. Highly recommended.  

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

Comments 3 comments

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.