Riots are the Language of the Unheard

This is Eric and my collective thoughts, written this morning after a disastrous night. Typing from the safety of our back deck with the sun shining on us, we recognize the privilege we have in making statements from safe spaces. However, we, from thousands of miles away, join our voices in chorus with those who have been silenced for too long.

To White Women, From a White Woman

White women, we are not exempt from white privilege through our status as women. Our status as white provides us with advantages not afforded to minority women and men.

But white women, we know what it is like to be treated differently. Albeit not the same kind of systemic racism and oppression as minority men and women in this country, but we have a peek into difference. We've only had the vote for 100 years; women only make 77% of men's salaries; we regularly face verbal, sexual and physical harassment at various points in our lives. That tiny glimpse should help us understand, and stand in solidarity with, minority men and women. We should be all over the fight for equal treatment. We should be outraged when someone's minority status causes them harm or death for simply existing. We should be screaming for justice.

White women, we should be ashamed. We have failed all the people who have life infinitely worse than us. We've taken advantage of our privilege, stayed silent when it conveniences us, and abused others as surely as if we had knotted the noose ourselves.

Truck Stop TP

Approximately seven million years ago, my colleagues and I were in our office. Yes, that was back in old days, where we went to places called "offices" and we didn't feel eminent death hanging over over if we got closer than 6 feet to someone. It was getting close to the end of the day (remember when "days" had "ends" to them?), and my friend Jen was heading out. "I have to try to go find toilet paper," she said. "We are actually almost out." This was at the beginning of the panic, when toilet paper disappeared from shelves like it never existed, as did hand sanitizer, and cleaning wipes. It may still be that way but I have no idea. I haven't been in a grocery store since this story took place. Our other friend Sarah noted that she had gotten some the day before. Since Sarah and I live in different parts of town from Jen, we both said we would look around us if Jen couldn't find any.

I went on to make an evening run at the Incline, in oblivion that this would be one of my last opportunities to make that climb. When I got done, I had a text from Jen with a photo of empty shelves. No toilet paper. Since I was still out, I stopped at a grocery store on my way home. 

Woman Who Runs With Big Cats

I am generally a before or after work runner. Even during quarantine, when I've been working from home for 10 weeks, I have generally run at the beginning or the end of my day. 

Today was an exception.

It had been really hot all week, and this morning was cool, but I had calls starting at 6am. I didn't want to run in stifling heat, and I had an open spot after my 9am call ended, so I laced up and got out the door. I was thinking a quick 6, and back to work, and I wouldn't have to go out later so I could work until our small group call, which wouldn't be a problem since Eric is out storm chasing anyway.

I was a mile down the road when Eric called. 

"Where are you?"

Do What You Gotta Do

70 days. Thursday marks 70 days of working from home. One of these weeks, I thought to myself "I don't think I could work from home full-time," and then had to remind myself that what we are doing now is NOT working from home. Working from home means you do things like set up a fully functioning home office, that you can go out and see people after work, and that you have choice in all that. This is something else entirely.

There are upsides, of course. I see my husband all the time. I haven't had to shave my legs, which is nice. Until today, I gone exclusively to sports bra wearing as far as foundation garments go. That changed today.

I did not like it, no not one bit.

UnRace Report: 20K to Kick My A

Today I was scheduled to run the Cheyenne Mountain Trail Race as a fundraiser for Achilles International, Pikes Peak Chapter. I started volunteering with Achilles as a guide, meaning running or walking with an Achilles athlete who has a physical or cognitive challenge. I really enjoyed going every Monday evening, and am looking forward to returning when its safe to be back together.

The race itself was postponed until October (single track trail is not great for maintaining 6 feet of social distance). However, I got up this morning thinking I would run a self-supported "race" instead, since this had been on my calendar and a part of my training plan. So I was up, geared up and out the door relatively early, thinking I would go from my house to the trails in the mountains above us, taking Mount Esther trail to Ring the Peak, which is a trail system that literally goes all the way around Pikes Peak  - so I'd be sure to have plenty of trail to make the mileage.

I should have perhaps considered that starting at my house is 1,000 feet higher than the start of the race, AND the trail I chose included the first two miles at a significantly more steep and consistent uphill than the race.

Also, it rained all night last night, and was super humid as the sun started to rise and evaporation started happening. Growing up in the Midwest, I should be used to humidity, but eight years of living in this mostly arid state have gotten me soft on humidity.

It was rough.

Tornadoes in a Time of Covid

I promise you, this is not the next great plague to descend on the world! That has to be good news at least? Right?

Eric left this morning to chase storms. He might be back Sunday. Or Tuesday. Or whenever.

#IRunWithMaud

2.23 miles to represent February 23, 2020, the day Ahmaud Arbery was shot and killed by two white racists who hunted him down, and then evaded justice for more than two months while cronies in the District Attorney's office covered up their crimes.

May 8, 2020. The day Ahmaud Arbery would have turned 26, and was denied.

We run. Eric and I set out in the middle of a sunny day, with a strong breeze and low temperatures. A great day for a run.

Just like the middle of the day on February 23, 2020 in Satilla Shores, Georgia.

This Was a Hunt

I saw the story yesterday and wrote about it, in parallel with another news article.  I came across the story as a sidebar CNN story- not a lead, not a headliner. Dead black runner, chased, shot and killed by two white men who had not been charged with his murder.

This morning, someone released video of the shooting.

There's No Way This Happens in Reverse

Two news articles got me going today. Enough that my husband said "stop reading the news." (I'd like to point out that won't work, especially if he is going to keep reading the news. Love you baby.)

The Worst of Humanity

So, I'm kind of feeling like we have not put our best humanity out there in this pandemic. People kind of suck.

But it could be worse.

And I would know.

Part of my job for a number of years was running a professional development conference for anyone working with youth and families. I would bring in speakers from all over the US, mostly experts in the field, but also and occasionally, a celebrity who had written a book or taken up a charge related to youth issues. While popular, these folks were invariably not as good as the lesser-known but more knowledgeable speakers. They also often had more demands, and weren't always pleasant.

Like the one C-list celebrity I took out to dinner and he talked on and on and on about the ONE movie he had been in, that I had never heard of. Or the A-lister who came to a group dinner but was so stand-offish that everyone was uncomfortable. Or the well-known gospel artist I tried to get who wouldn't stay more than 45 minutes, insisted on a limo from the airport and accommodations at a 5-star hotel and nothing less (I didn't book him.)

However, none of these compared to a celebrity run-in I had after I left that work.