New Year’s best,

Aprilontherun

The post-run shower is one of my favorite (possibly only, but just go with it) perks of winter running.  There is just something about coming in from a run all red-faced and and bundled up, then stripping down and stepping into warm shower.  There is that moment when the water first hits the still-cold skin that sends a shiver down my neck, tingling all the way to my feet and giving me a rush of instant warmth.  Oh, reader, it’s goooooood.

This morning after I had shampooed, conditioned, lathered, and rinsed, I lingered in the shower.  Lingering is a regular part of my winter shower, not just because the water feels good but also because I know as soon as I pull back the shower curtain I will be assaulted with a blast of arctic air that temporarily negates the warm comfort of the post-run shower.  I must have lingered longer than usual because S actually came in and asked if I was ok in there (I’m guessing he just wanted to take his own post-run shower and was faking concern to get me to hurry up.  Fair play, S.).  I told him I was, but that I had decided to spend the rest of the morning in the shower.  He laughed disbelievingly until I started singing my shower song.  The shower song is a something I wrote to capture my feelings about the post-run shower and my seriousness when I say I might not get out:

“I don’t want to get out of the showwwwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeerrrrrrr,

I don’t want to get out of the shower todayyyyyyy.

I don’t want to get out of the showwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeerrrrrrrr,

So don’t make me get out todayyyyyyyyyyy.”

(You really have to imagine this being “sung” in a key that is unidentifiable to any other member of the human race and at the top of my lungs.  It’s really more yelling than singing.)  Yes, I really sing that.  Out loud.  In front of another person.  And he still likes me. 

I managed to work up the nerve to step out into the chilled bathroom a few minutes later so S could hop in.  He didn’t seem to appreciate the post-run shower the way I did, as I couldn’t get him to sing the shower song.  Or maybe it was still early and there isn’t enough caffeine in Brooklyn to get him singing before 9am.  Either way, I’m already looking forward to tomorrow’s run!

The past week and a half has seen the shift in NYC weather from almost unseasonably warm to FRIGID.  Two weeks ago I was running in the park and had to strip down to my base layer, take off the gloves, and tuck the hat into my capris.  This past weekend I was wishing I had put on one more layer under my running tights (which, btw, are supposedly thermal yet don’t seem to keep me very warm), and an extra pair of gloves over my wind-breaking running gloves.  I’m also going out later this week to invest in a sack of smartwool socks, since my regular running socks seem to be too thin to keep my toes warm.

Ah, winter.

One thing I discovered at the end of last winter was that if I get myself fully dressed for a run, then jump or dance around (I prefer the Hammer dance) for a couple minutes until I’m good and warm, almost too warm, while I’m still inside.  THEN I go out and immediately start running.  No walking to the park or chatting with the our building super, but taking off right away from the front door.  For some reason this seems to keep the warmth I built up from shakin’ it inside from escaping, while continuing to generate new heat from running.  The whole process probably looks a little bizarre to anyone watching.  Especially when I pretend that I’m about to jump into a cold pool or lake.  I count down 3-2-1, take a deep breath, open the door and jump into my run.  Hey, it seems to be working.

The other thing that seems to be helping is drinking almost-hot water before and after.  This might be personal preference (I usually prefer my water room temperature, not iced, even in the summer), or maybe even just a psychosomatic trick, but the warm water seems to warm me up from the inside.

Who else has a trick for staying warm in the frosty weather?

I was lucky enough to get a set of finish line bleacher tickets to see all the runners as they finish.  I’m so excited I can barely contain myself!  Derartu, Shalane, Meb, and Geb a few yards away!  Is it bad form to jump onto the finish area to try and hug Meb?  Would Haile run away if I tried to pinch his smiley cheeks, and if so, would he be tired enough from just having run a marathon through NYC’s five boroughs that I could actually catch him?  Only time will tell .

Happy marathon day; see you at the finish!

I find it hard to do things without clear parameters.  It drives me crazy if someone tells me they will be doing something in the afternoon.  Which part of the afternoon?  12:01?  2:15?  3:53?  4:27?  Worse is, “I’ll get there when I get there” (mom, I’m talking to you).  I really can’t stand when someone tells me to get something done “when it’s done.”  Or “get here when you get here.”  (Of course none of this applies to vacation time.  I don’t care when or what you do as long as there is a beach involved.)

So you can imagine my frustration with not having a new running goal in mind yet.  Since I ran a half-marathon earlier this month, I have just been running to run.  Ok, yeah, I like running for its own sake.  Love it, in fact.  BUT I can only run just to run for so long.  Without a goal I don’t know how much or how far to run.  This leads to either way too much running and getting injured for no good reason, or to not running enough and losing all the fitness I’ve built up to that point.  Neither is a fun thing. It’s also really easy to roll back over when you don’t have a stated reason to go.  Sure, fitness/health/well-being are all fantastic reasons.  Takes more than that to get me out of a warm bed to head out into a dark, cold morning.

Now I’m looking for a goal for the spring season.  Since Boston went ahead and filled up in 8 hours (!) I have to think a little harder.  Hmm…but what?  Maybe I need to be clearer about what I’m looking for.  What would I ask someone else with the same conundrum….

What race distance do you have in mind?  I love the idea of a full marathon, but I also have been enjoying all the shorter distances lately, especially the half marathon.  And it’s getting colder outside and the days shorter.  Maybe another half in the spring and then a full (NYC!) next fall?

When?  A full would probably have to be later in the spring, as I’ll be out of town and not likely to train for three weeks in January.  A shorter race could be as early as March.

How about the race place?  Destination vs. closer to home.  Destination means going somewhere new and/or getting to visit friends or family I don’t see often enough.  Close to home means less travel hassle and easier to fit into the schedule.  Probably have to be a US race, so crossing an ocean is out, and Alaska (too cold) and Hawaii (see about the ocean thing) are likely off the list too, though parts of Canada or Mexico could be cool and do-able.

So I’m looking for a marathon or shorter race, somewhere in North America below the tundra, sometime in the spring.  Ok, a quick search of marathonguide.com shows that there are roughly one trillion possibilities.  (I exaggerate, but not by that much.)

Ok, plan B in my search:  Advice?!

-Aprilontherun

Wait, what?

Yeah, that Tommie Smith.  Smith was the 1968 Olympic gold medalist in the 200 meters from the US.  He was also the man who, along with silver medalist John Carlos, raised a black-gloved fist symbolizing Black Power as the US national anthem was played and the stars and stripes were raised.  As the NYTimes article points out, this gesture was one of the most important, powerful, and memorable political statements in sports.  The familiar photo of the two men on the Olympic podium serves as a reminder of that moment, a moment that resulted in death threats and struggles for the two brave young men in the years since that medal ceremony.  Instead of standing and simply taking in the adulation for his world record, gold-medal performance, Smith donated his moment to a cause he believed in: a better future.    

The big question now appears to be:  but how could you, Tommie?  

Having dismissed rumors that he was in financial trouble, the NYTimes article suggests that maybe the medal may serve as a reminder of the difficulties Smith endured following the demonstration and simply be ready, possibly eager, to part with it.  That’s possible, sure.  Or maybe he just isn’t sentimental and doesn’t need the medal to remind him of something the world hasn’t forgotten.  Or maybe he’s just crazy, because who wouldn’t want their Olympic gold medal no matter what the memories tied to it were?  The gold medal is the epitome, the highlight for so many, a sign that at some point you were the greatest.  Athletes spend years sacrificing for a chance to simply compete at an Olympic Games, not to mention a chance to win any medal much less a gold one.  Yeah, that’s it, he must be crazy. 

I have another thought that doesn’t include Tommie Smith needing a psych evaluation.  It seems to me that this is just one more selfless gesture, albeit less silent than the one he’s known for.  

Smith’s medal has a high potential value, as the medal is the medal from that photo.  I’m sure memorabilia collectors around the world are salivating over this news.  So Smith is planning on a big pay day, right?  Maybe not.  There seems to be a very good chance that Smith plans to use the proceeds from the sale as a way to raise funds for a charitable organization to which he is connected.  

Donating a piece of his own history in order to better the future, where have I heard that before? 

Of course, this is just speculation, as we don’t yet know for sure what his reasons are for auctioning off the medal.  However, if this is a way to raise money for his charitable initiative helping others–and I hope that’s why–it really wouldn’t surprise me.  Smith seems just seems to be the kind of selfless person who would.

At best they are worthy of constant suspicion and avoidance.  S, who to my knowledge isn’t afraid of squirrels and actually feeds chipmunks (the lesser evil but equally dangerous kin to squirrels–I told you it was irrational), once remarked, in a half-asleep stupor, about the little buggers on the fire escape outside the bedroom window he was closing that he didn’t “want them getting in here and impinging on our personal freedoms” (I have no idea what he was dreaming about but I laughed for about an hour, after the window was closed and locked of course).  

So you can imagine my terror when I was I bombarded by squirrel bombs, aka acorns, on my run in the park this morning.  There is a spot on the southern part of the Prospect Park loop where the tree branches extend far enough over the path on both sides that they almost touch, allowing the squirrels to run from one side to the other via the tree bark freeway.  I don’t usually think much of it (which is exactly when they sneak up on you), but today I took notice.  As I ran under the trees I was hit not once, but twice with acorns!  

Now you’re thinking, “It’s autumn and acorns DO just fall,” aren’t you?  Well, ok, that’s true.  BUT, immediately after I was hit there was the unmistakable rustling of the leaves and sound of little squirrel claws on the branches overhead that I knew it was a squirrel who threw those acorns.  Yes, threw.  It was intentional, I’m sure, as they could no doubt tell that I had been lured into a false sense of security.  Got me right on the shoulder, too.  They’ve got good aim, I will say that.  

Obviously these little beasts have declared war.

These fighter pilots aren’t just waging an air assault.  No, no.  They’ve also opened a ground attack by peppering the running lanes with their bombs.  Those sneaky little imps know that acorns are the perfect size to go virtually unnoticed by the distracted eye right up until you catch one underfoot and go sailing like a cartoon character on a carelessly discarded banana peel.  

Adhering to my lifelong pledge of non-violence, I ducked for cover (actually I started running faster to the clearing ahead trying to sidestep their traps on the ground), I could almost hear them laughing a sick, victorious laugh.  Once again, they got me.  

So beware as they scurry by, and especially when they are overhead.  Do not be fooled by their furry, innocent faces.  Behind the facade lurks an ace fighter pilot, just waiting for the perfect moment, right when you least expect it…..

Sometimes I’m reminded just how mean the world–meaning the people in it–can be, and often these reminders come in the form of a cold, hard slap across the kisser.  

As a rule, I’m not much of a crier; I rarely shed tears and can’t actually remember the last time I full-on ugly cried.  However, the past several days have been so emotionally trying that I’ve actually fogged over twice–more tears than I shed in all of 2009.   If you’re wondering what happened, it’s simple:  I read the news.  

Last week a student asked if I had seen the news about the young man at Rutgers who jumped off the George Washington Bridge as a result of a private, sexual encounter with another man being played on the internet by two fellow students without his knowledge.  When I said that I had not heard about it, the student said that this was only the latest in a rash of queer youth suicides in the past week, and part of a larger trend of cyber-bullying.  The student was visibly upset, so I fired up the ol’ Google search engine and started reading about Tyler Clementi, the Rutgers student, and then about the other recent queer youth suicides.  What I found was beyond horrifying.  

I spent part of my afternoon reading news stories and accounts of several queer youths who had been, quite seriously, bullied to death via suicide.  I had heard about cyber-bullying as a result of Phoebe Prince’s suicide, but didn’t really pay much attention.  As it turns out, to use the words of Vice President Biden, it’s a big f*&^ing deal.  

I know that bullying is not a new phenomenon, that this is something generations (that’s a modest estimate, as I have no idea how far back this goes in human history) of people have dealt with, often it seems during that already awkward and completely confusing period of life known as adolescence.  I also know that teen suicide and among queer youths especially, is unfortunately not unusual either.  What I didn’t realize was that the connection between the two was so strong.  

The Center for Disease Control (CDC) reported for high school students in 2007, 18.7% of females and 10.3% of males considered suicide, 13.4% of females and 9.2% of males planned suicide, and 9.3% of females and 4.6% of males attempted suicide.  What’s even more upsetting is that students who had been threatened with or subjected to physical violence (common forms of bullying) were 2.4 times more likely to have suicidal thoughts and 3.3 times more likely to report suicidal behavior than those who hadn’t been victimized.   

Upset yet?  Yeah, me too.  

One thing I cannot get my head around is how people can be so cruel to one another.  I don’t just mean kids (who, by the way, learn that behavior somewhere), who can be plenty cruel, but adults too.  The Rutgers students responsible for uploading the video that lead to Tyler Clementi’s suicide were young adults, as are the adults that often complicit in the bullying of others.  Whether this participation is through ignoring it, as has been the message and reports from parents of bullied children in the wake of Prince’s death, or in their outright condoning and participation in the bullying of others, such as Lori Drew in the Megan Meier case, these are adults making these decisions.  

How, how, how have we as a people let this happen over and over?  Seems like all evidence is to the contrary of my most people are mostly decent hypothesis.  

I would love to think that maybe these kids just need a good long run or some other form of distraction to make them feel better and put things into perspective, but I honestly don’t think that has a snowball’s chance at the equator of working.  A few weeks ago I wrote about my own comparatively minor anxieties and that while usually running helps sometimes there just aren’t enough miles you can do to distract yourself.   I can’t even imagine the pain, isolation, fear, and despair these individuals are going through, so I can’t imagine that something like a good run would even dent the cruelty of the situation, as much as I wish it could.  

Fortunately, there are people like Dan Savage  and who are trying to make a difference for some of these youths and prevent more tragedies like some of these.  Please support his cause and others like it, because from these stories I know that the heartbreak I feel right now is nothing compared to what these youths are going through.  

Of course, if you know or suspect someone is being bullied or is contemplating suicide, speak up.  The suicide prevention hotline is one resource, as is the Boys Town hotline.  

• Three women power-walking at mid-morning in Prospect Park.  Woman A to other two:  ”Oh, well I don’t know anything about his policies or ideas, but he sure is a snappy dresser.”  Please tell me she doesn’t know when election day is and/or where to vote.

• Two joggers who appear to be fresh out of college.  (This was unscientifically assumed by their baby-faced appearances and that they were both sporting college t-shirts, one of which had a fraternity name under the school name.)  Frat shirt to other jogger:  ”Yeah, like I’m going to do that kind of work.  I have a DEGREE; let the interns move that stuff.”  I admit I judged this person.  Negatively.

• Trio standing just off the path chatting:  ”Then he just like saw a stack of steak knives and grabbed one and started stabbing the sh*& out of her.”  I seriously hope he’s discussing a movie he just saw.

• Four cyclists riding together.  One woman is talking away and another stands up and bikes ahead.  Talkative woman calling out:  ”Hey why are you sprinting?”  Man riding next to talkative woman:  ”That’s what she does when she’s tired of hearing someone talk.”  Ouch!

• Runner yelling behind him as he strides across the stick figure on a bicycle painted in the lane he’s running on:  ”Get your *bleeping* bike off the path!!!  This is for runners!!!”  Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  Unless he yelled at you first, you’re just embarrassing.  On second though, even if he did yell first, you’re still embarrassing.
  

• Little girl in a wagon-ish thing being pulled behind a bike, up a hill, by her hard pedaling father:  ”Daddy!  Why can’t you go faster?”  Father (quietly, but audibly):  ”5, 4, 3, 2….why don’t you put down the juice and pedal then?”  HAHAHA!  Must’ve been a long day.

• Runner A to runner B:  ”But my boss, I don’t know how I’d describe him…”  Runner B:  ”B*&ch?”  Office morale is up, I see.

• Guy dressed in technical running clothes joined by a guy in basketball shorts, a polo shirt, and baseball cap.   Tech clothes:  *Laughing* “I don’t know if I’m more embarrassed by you or for you running in that outfit!”  Polo shirt:  ”What?”  Tech shirt:  ”Dude, collars for running are just wrong!”  What’s that saying?  A true friend tells you when you look ridiculous?

Ah, runners.