I Recently Fell Back In Love

At some point last year, I fell out of love with running. Well, to be honest, even when I loved it, I hated it. But I had loved it nonetheless. I started lifting more, even dabbled in powerlifting as a sport, and running just became a chore. And I stopped doing it.

And then I took a birthday vacation centered around running the Four Corners Quad Keyah. Four half marathons over four days in four states. Doesn't everyone plan their birthday vacation around running 52.4 miles? No?

I was incredibly out of shape (remember I had all but stopped running). It was incredibly painful. It was incredibly beautiful. And it was just what I needed to fall back in love.

And fall back in love I did.

So I started up again. I was slower than before (and I was already really slow). My breathing was tortured, and my hip was protesting, but I began to remember what I had loved about the hobby I hate so much.

I love this passage from John Bingham's The Courage to Start;
"Beginners can experience the same feelings as veteran runners. It isn't a matter of how long you've been a runner, but of how running can inform your life. If you are open to the lessons of racing, every starting line can be a seminar in becoming yourself.
These lessons can occur at any distance. A 5K race is more than long enough to discover the truth. A 10K race doesn't guarantee twice the revelation, but it gives you time to reflect. And distances beyond the 10K - 15 and 20K's, half marathons, the full marathon - are out there if the answers are buried to deep within you that mining for truth takes longer."

I don't get lost in my thoughts when I run. I don't spend the time in deep self-contemplation.

I listen to music and podcasts and audiobooks. I listen to other people talk (even though I can't talk in return for fear of dying). I fall down. I take pictures. I run into trees and fall down some more. It's not a time of deep reflection.

But this passage did get me thinking about the lessons I have learned from running.

Here are a few  (OK, a few more than a few):

1. I am stronger than I once believed. Slower too. But also stronger.
2. Slow and steady does not win the race. That fucking tortoise lied to us. Slow and steady comes in last or, at minimum, back of the pack. 
3. The back of the pack is where you meet the really fun runners. Seriously, we are the cool kids.
4. The cops who pull me over when driving aren't the only amazing officers out there. The ones who stop traffic for runners and cheer and tell you you're doing a good job even when you look like you're dying are pretty amazing too. 
5. Trees hurt when you run into them. Don't run into them. Really. Don't.
6. Every step in your last mile means you have that much less than a mile to go. The last mile is my favorite mile.
7. They say the first step is the hardest. It's not. Putting on your running shoes is the hardest. Running shoes. I love buying them. I hate putting them on. It is, by far, the hardest step. 
8. You do have to walk before you run. And then walk a little more. And then you take off running. But then there's always more walking. Just embrace it. 
9. Pee happens. Embrace that too.
10. I am a runner. And if you run, you're a runner too. Your pace doesn't matter. Your distance doesn't matter. If you run, you're a runner. Embrace that most of all.

Well, that's it. That's all I've got. They're not deep and philosophical, but at the end of the day, neither am I. 

"Standing at the beginning of a race, alone but united, you can find the quiet peace that comes in knowing that your uniqueness is shared by others. Surrounded by other runners, waiting for the race to begin, you can find a calm confidence in knowing that your individual odyssey is actually just one stone in a mosaic of self-discovery. a mosaic crafted by all those who, like you, have accepted the challenge to overcome the distance set before them, using only their bodies and their will." 

And that reminds me...

      11. Medals are cool. 

      12. I like medals.

      13. A lot. 

That's Not What Hate Looks Like

I was recently accused of hating our president. Well the exact wording was, "Just admit that you hate your president and be done with it." I take that as an accusation, and I can only think of two reasons why it might have been made:

1. This person does hate people he disagrees with. See, the conversation was about something our president had done that I disagreed with (I'll get to that) and so clearly (in this person's mind) I must hate him. What a sad way to go through life, hating anyone you disagree with. That makes me sad for him.
or
2. Maybe he doesn't hate everyone he disagrees with, but he felt comfortable assuming that about me. Again, what a sad way to go through life, assuming hate in others. That too makes me sad for him.

Bottom line, the conversation made me sad. It's not the first. It won't be the last.

The topic of discussion (and I'm referring to an online discussion) was about President Trump's tweet tirade in regard to Greta Thunberg being named People's Person of the Year. The original post was a very nice and even handed statement about the media's impact on the craziness of today's political climate, specifically the current topic of climate change (sorry to the poster if that doesn't seem like an accurate summary).

And I chimed in: "Politics aside, Thunberg is just a sixteen year old girl speaking out for what she believes in. She didn’t change the world or stop climate change. But she did go after something she is passionate about. He is a grown man who pitched a cyber fit and bad mouthed her because she got an award he thought he deserved. Whether he agrees with her or not, politician or not, that’s ridiculous."

I stand behind that adjective, ridiculous. That behavior is ridiculous (no matter who it comes from). It's not OK for a grown man to engage with an autistic child, or ANY child, in a public forum even if she has put herself in the public eye. It's just not, and that's just my opinion. Be the grown up. In this case, that grown up happens to be an elected official who represents ME. My president. The president of the United States of America. On Twitter. Telling a 16 year-old autistic child that she needs anger management and that he definitely is the person of the year. I find that embarrassing (which I also stated in the conversation).

Not long before, public comments had been made about President Trump's son and Melania, who has been a very private, very quiet first lady, spoke out saying children should be left out of politics. Yah. She's right. She just forgot to tell her husband. Shame on the people who made disparaging comments about Barron. And shame on President Trump for doing the same to someone else's child.

In pointing that out, let's not forget, I got, "Just admit that you hate your president and be done with it."

And that has been a large focus of my political lense for the past three years. You see, I'm not a particularly educated person when it comes to federal policy. If it doesn't have to do with education or women's rights/equality, I probably can't chime in to your over-my-head-conversation, and those two topics are really states' issues. So federal policy? I can't tell you much.

Has President Trump's presidency negatively impacted me directly? Not that I know of. Neither has any other presidency in a concrete way I can name. I work in a field with fairly good job security and am a middle class single mom who always gets a decent tax return (but then again any return is enough to make me happy). Now governors? I can go off on a few of them, but like I said, I can't tell you much about federal policy or any president's direct impact on me. That is something I am neither proud nor ashamed of. It's just an area where I can't keep up with some of my smarty friends and family.

Politics, policy, legislation isn't my issue (if you can call it that). President Trump isn't my issue. It is how people respond to him that I often find gross. And often makes me sad.

You're going to think this is a stupid example, but it is one that has stuck with me. It goes all the way back to the time of the debates, when President Trump said, "Look at her face. Who would vote for that?" Now, if any of my family (very devout Republicans) are reading this, they have inevitably come up with at least three smartass comments about Hillary's face, but he didn't say it about her. He said it about Carly Fiorina, the only woman on the Republican ticket at the time. The only woman in his own party who had stepped up to the plate to give it a go. He didn't make disparaging comments about the looks of any of the men in the running. What were there, five of them at that time? It was only for the only woman standing that he chose to focus on her looks instead of her ideas.

But remember, I said he isn't my issue. He is just one man who made a crappy comment about a woman's looks. They're a dime a dozen. The issue was the response, at least in my little corner of the world. I can't tell you how many times I heard, "Well, at least he doesn't care about being politically correct." "He's just keeping it real." "I like that he tells it like he sees it." "Awwww, come on, he's just being a guy."

And that is the problem.

I imagine my nephew running for student council in a couple of years and pointing at the little girl next to him and saying, "Look at her face. Who would vote for that?"

Would those same people be so proud of him and respond, "That's our boy! We just love that he's not politically correct. He just tells it like he sees it." I hope not, but I don't know any more. It seems to me, and it's just my perspective, that President Trump has empowered the worst in people. He's made it OK to say things like that (and many others) because if we can celebrate it (or even tolerate it) from a president, we're giving it our seal of approval.

And therein lies my sadness. Not in him but in the reactions of people I know and love.

Like I said, many of you will think that is a silly example, but remember, I take women's equality to heart, and making a political campaign about looks, but only the woman's looks, struck a chord with me. And the fact that it was during the debates struck a chord with me. It was during a time when candidates put their best foot forward and try to convince us of WHO THEY ARE.

He did.

And we liked it.

Why is it not OK to say that a particular behavior is bad? Why does that have to mean I have hate in my heart? Or am unamerican? Have we become so divisive that those are the only options? It's all or none. Support every word and every action or you're a hater (that word was also thrown into the discussion) who needs to leave the country. I've actually been asked that: Well then, why don't you just leave?

Really? Leave the country I love because I disagree with a particular statement, idea, or behavior? Is that a serious question?

I've been guilty of bad behavior many times. Soooooo many times. And those who love me and support me have told me to cut that shit out, also many times.

Not because they hate me. That's not what hate looks like. They criticized me because my behavior was ridiculous. So was President Trump's. Stop tweeting about children, for Pete's sake. You're the fucking president.