Running After the Fire
This Running Life Lately
On a recent Saturday long run, my training partner of late, Brandon, asked if I’d be interested in stopping by the Santa Anita race track. The Derby Day 5k was happening that day. We jogged our way to the race location. Runners were still trickling in and picking up their bibs. We ran around in the starting line area.
“Maybe you should just run this race,” Brandon suggested. “Funny you said that. This 5k was giving away free bibs to fire victims. I thought about it briefly, and decided not to do it.” I said.
Not wanting to do things has been a theme lately. After the Eaton fire that destroyed my home and more than 9,000 structures in Altadena, I simply don’t have strong desires to do much. I was in a terrible mood this morning. Grumpy, grouchy, not grateful at all. This Anne Lamott’s quote has been on my mind lately.
Spring break was coming up. My daughter asked me to book a vacation for us. “I don’t feel like going anywhere,” I said.
A good friend is planning a fancy brunch to celebrate our resilience facing life’s ups and downs. I haven’t responded.
My brother and his wife just welcomed their first baby. I planned to start a college savings account under her name, but haven’t done that. That college tuition is not going to pay for itself. My niece is now three weeks old. Tik tok.
668 people have kindly donated to my GoFundMe campaign. I wanted to send everyone a gratitude note, but instead have been sitting with a stack of thank-you cards from Amazon. Should I have boycotted the evil Amazon and consider canceling our Walmart+ subscription?
I guess this is either a symptom of exhaustion from being in triage mode for the last 3 months, or of low-key depression with a gray outlook on life. The tariffs news and a looming economic slow-down weighed me down. Seeing photos of recent “Hands Off” protests brought a little relief. Cory Booker was to swoon over.
To get to the finish line area of the Derby Day 5k, we had to go through a tunnel under the race track. We saw riders with their horses warming up on the track, black, white and brown manes flying in the air. That pungent horse poop smell permeated the air. There was a carnival being set up. We saw stands of funnel cakes, corn dogs and cotton candy slushies. I wondered which was going to kill you first, the trans fats in all the fried food, or the horse droppings floating in the air and contaminating everything.
At the finish line area, we saw the tent from our local running store, Run With Us. We ran over to say hi to my former coach and other friends at the tent. Coach Armand, who coached me for 7 years, shared my devastation. His house, which he shared with his father and stepmother, was damaged beyond repair. His mother’s house burned down. We hugged. That was our first time seeing each other after the fire. “Altadena looks like a ghost town,” said Coach Armand. “Every time I drive by, I cry.”
We continued our long run after this tearful reunion. We did a little fartlek at Arcadia High School’s track, 1 minute on, 4 minute steady, 10 reps. I watched as a group of three college athletes flying past us with their 400m repeats at around 70 seconds per lap. They looked so strong. I bemoaned my age and lack of speed again.
I have, however, been stacking my running weeks nicely. One B+ track workout and one moderate long run with a fartlek have been my steady diet. There’s a whole school of theory on why B+ workouts lead to eventual breakthroughs. Consistency rules. Blah blah blah.
For all the sadness and low-key depression in my world, I know I’m not dead inside. For one thing, Instagram hasn’t stopped feeding me with images of hard-chested men. I pause and zoom each time, and dutifully flip these photos to my girlfriends.
Brandon and I high-fived each other for finishing another long run. The sun was now shining. And I was no longer sad.
