Being Presidential #ShamrockinGoodTimes

It’s been weird, you know, focusing on the miles and other things. It seemed more daunting, and yet manageable, to find a running event, sign up, show up, and show out. That kept me pretty busy. However, this year, every mile counts. I’m getting credit for waking up and running. And although that doesn’t happen every day, the fact that I can technically get up, go run, and get credit for it, is awesome.

You know what else is awesome? Spending time with Eboogie and Dr. Splits on Trees in the Capital City. Did yall know that Alicia Makeykey aka Eboogie aka always wanna call someone an overachiever but she really is the one achieving over stuff is training for a Marathon??? Right. Same thing I said.

So, we’re just calling this a training run for her. I mean, she had to run 20 miles, so a half is like, a warm up. So we (read: she) warmed up.

Okay, for real though. It’s an opportunity for Alicia to get a quick PR on her way to greatness #1PercenterStatus. For me to you know, be basic for bling, but log a hash mark in that new running event category. And for REJIII #ThePresident (JustBob) to get that first half marathon medal! See…we can all be great for different reasons on the same pavement.

Only 67% of that paragraph is going to be great. I spent all my greatness on… A tooth extraction, a night of dancing, a damn-near-half-marathon hike, ineffective pain medication, and well…life. You’re not surprised by this at all. You expect this from me. I’m so loyal to you.

Our race outfits were on fleek, while the right side of my face was on FAAAWWWWKK! Yo, getting a tooth extraction without proper pain medication and antibiotics is the devil. Ain’t nothing holy in it. Except maybe the hole in the back of my mouth stitched up by grace and new mercies.

Sacramento was beautiful. It’s been so long since the last time I ran SacTown #MOOnlight10k #AliciaOverAchievedThatDayToo, that I would have appreciated the beauty (OldieButNewbie #RunningHubby reads: booty) but it was hard to concentrate.

Enter Dr. Splits on Trees. See, the night before we were having wonderful conversations about life and running, and you know, smart people stuff. This somehow, inextricably led to conversations about the struggle of us Black folks and freedom and whatnot. Seriously. All from a conversation about running Rock n Roll DC in 2016. We went from taking selfies at the Dr. King Memorial during the run, to who was going to pace us on the Underground Railroad. Yes I love my friends. No, you cannot have them.

This, of course means that Dr. Splits on Trees is waiting for you around Mile 3-ish with a sign instructing you to run for your freedom. Our ancestors made it possible for me to be out here running this race. I just… I just… Just why Lord? Why?

Shortly past this point I was jealous that old people could remove their teeth and gums, but I like, still kinda needed mine. My jaw was killing me.

So, at around Mile 9 or so, I was ready to give it up. I mean, really, why are these my life choices? I’ve been compressing my hand to the side of my face, jogging and popping Tylenol with codeine because Kaiser wouldn’t let my original pain medication prescription be fully realized.

For the first time in history of a running event, I stopped. I deviated from the course, and took a detour into a restaurant. I’ve paused my run for a potty break, or to grab water from the stations, but never a non-race-related stop. I had to get ice. The side of my jaw felt like I went a few rounds with Evander Holyfield or something. I could not take it.

A nice man behind the bar filled my empty zip lock bag (once hold my less than effective pain medication) with ice. Gave me a cool plastic cup of water, and then wished me luck. As I began again, feeling defeated that I left the course, there was a group of happy people passing out refreshments. Because orange juice is refreshing and champagne is new life.

I mean, eventually I finished. But that wasn’t my reason for being there. See, #ThePresident was having a first experience too. We turkey trotted, but that is nothing compared to this. A half marathon? And we’ve traveled to the Capital City to inaugurate #ThePresident into our gaggle of serious athletes.

As you would have expected, Alicia killed it. #ThePresident made it in record time. And I, well, never would have made it without that baggie of ice.

What were the lessons learned on this day?

1. Committing to a training plan actually works. Because, science. #EBoogieDidThat #ItsKindOfAThingToTrainAccordingToAPlan

2.  Stopping only feels like failure if you make it feel that way. Most people don’t care. It seems to be a big deal to me tho.

3.    Supportive friends are everything. Even if they make race signs that literally cause you to laugh hysterically and almost forget that you’re running a race.

4.    Inspiration is cyclic. Much like energy it isn’t created or destroyed. Just transferred.

Inspiration.

If our lives are like #TheMatrix and we run into a program at the train station, then we know... Inspiration (like love) is just a word. What matters is the connection it implies - the meaning we give it.

Before the race, when #ThePresident asked Eboogie to take a picture of us, me being his running inspiration ... Not gonna lie, I felt a thug tear. But I held it together.

I have no idea what connection he implied or meaning he gives that word, but I'm honored and humbled. I'm not a great runner, but I suppose I've got something to give people who desire to run.

Oh, and he SMOKED the streets of Sacramento!

Somehow something I’ve said, or done or been, has inspired him. I knew all too well before his wave took off that he was going to run the race of his life. I had no doubt. I could see it in him and around him. And all the while, his courage in that moment, despite all the anxiety and unknown, was inspiring me.

#15ThingsIn2015 Challenge

5 new states

4 new friends (OldieButNewbie #RunningHubby – 1 down, 3 to go)

3 new running events (Shamrock Half – 1 down, 2 to go)

2 back-to-back running events

1 Half Marathon PR

Death Of Taco Tuesday #Race9Medal8

Um, it happened.

So the homey Alicia maKeykey (Eboogie) has told me about this amazing race that she does in San Francisco each year. Bay To Breakers. It’s just the bee’s knees, right? Right. All the kids are running it, right? Right. You know you want a shiny medal, right? RIGHT!!!!

One groupon later, I’ve signed up for my 8^th medal of the year. It was actually perfect timing. This was a great run to do as I prepare for my first half of the year in just a couple of weeks. As I arrived to San Francisco via the scariest Caltrain ride I’ve ever been on (yea, that’ll definitely be another post #socialjusticework), I found my way to the starting area for the race.

Pretty much sums up my Bay To Breakers experience.

And a man was hit in the head by a taco. Well not a fully grown up taco with all the fixin’s, but a fledgling tortilla shell with all the hope and promise for the future. Why Lord?!?!?!?! There’s a Taco Tuesday somewhere who needed that perfectly round corn tortilla to make some person’s happy hour dreams come true. Like me. I needed him to grow up and be great. A really great fish taco with that delightful cabbage & pico salsa.

I turned away, to mourn the loss of that fish taco that would never be, only to see the most disgusting naked man ever made. Eeeeewww. It was just hanging there. All defeated and deflated. All pale and pathetic. I wanted to tell him that he should probably get his prostate checked, because that’s the Christian thing to do, and it was Sunday…but I had no hand sanitizer, so yea, there’s that.

And Self said to Myself, “Myself, that’s probably the worst thing you’ll see today. After “The Hellified Caltrain Ride”, “Death of a Taco”, and “50 Shades of Old & Gray Genitalia” right over there, there will be nothing else that will ruin your race experience.”

And Myself replied to Self, “Self, I think you’re right. Let’s do this!”

I was like, “Yall trippin…” as two men passed me in kilts. #noshirts #justskirts #whereareyourdamnpanties 

START: All these innocent tortillas. I’m so sorry… *runs over them*

Mile 1: This isn’t so bad. I mean, SF is not flat, but so far this first mile has been a breeze. Oh that’s a penis. Oh, Okay… *runs faster*

Mile 2: Dammit! How many of these pasty pale things am I going to run into?!?!?!?

Mile 3: FUM Challenge? I got a regular race entry. I did not pay or sign up for this Hayes Hills Challenge. I am not here for this hill. Which way is the regular race route? Oh, there isn’t one? We all have to go up this hill? Damn.

Mile 4: Ion even know where I am right now.

Mile 5: The Church of 8 Wheels!!! Yall better get it out here! Yea, it’s about time for me and Meesh to go roller skating again!

Mile 6: OMG! What a beautiful waterfall. How have I never seen this?! #GoldenGatePark #Selfie

Mile 7: Hey! Did you know that you’re running a race? I just thought I’d let you know. I mean, all the photos are great, but the purpose is to finish. FYI. As in, start the race, run the race, and finish the race.

End: Oh. I just went from one side of SF to the other. Breakers meaning coast. Yea. That. #ImSooooSlowSometimes

Bay To Breakers was one of the happier runs of 2014! Everyone seemed so excited to be there. So much preparation into their race day outfits… Costumes. Friends. Laughing. Even the Nekkidness. They prepared *why Lord* to be nekkid. And though so many innocent tortilla shells met a fate worse than hot frying oil, and I’ve seen so many things that I will have to google later to understand, it was done in the name of running…for fun! I don’t know about 2015 though.

This Race: 12K, Bay To Breakers, San Francisco CA

Medaled Miles to date: 35.07 miles

Total Raced Miles to date: 48.17miles

6 Medals To Go ǁ 57% Complete

It's Just 5 Miles?! No Big: #Race8Medal7

Don’t worry, I’m not trying to save space on the blog, or cheat yall out of my amazing posts. It just so happens that I have really awesome dumb ideas…like running two events in the same weekend, because well, medals are awesome…and I really wanna see what this “2 Chainz” life is all about. So I get really busy and run out of time to you know...blog. (...and I'll totally be doing this again in October...you know, 2 races, same weekend...because I'm smart...)

#Race8Medal7 was an awesome event! We Souled, We Strolled, We did it for our health. Participants had the option of doing 1 mile, 3 miles, or 5 miles. And I went to UCLA so you know I’m about that overachieving life, right?

Really though, Soul Stroll 2014 was a great event. Good job folks over at the African American Community Health Advisory Committee.  And though I did not get to take a picture with Laila Ali, I did get to see African American folks of all ages engaged in conversations and activities about their health!

I talked encouraged suggested convinced forced some friends to do this event with me. I mean, what’s the glory of running if you aren’t doing it with others, right? Exactly. And as such, we schlepped the tons of free goodies and snacks we got that the health fair 5 miles around Coyote Point Park.

START: Awww, lookie at the balloon arch! How cute!

Mile 1 (sign): Wait, have we already been a mile? Either I’ve gotten fast, or that sign is in the wrong place. #ImFlashNow

Mile 3 (sign): Okay, hold a hell up. Now I might be Flash, but damn that. I know we haven’t been three miles! Aint. No. Way.

*realizes that the signs are markers for the halfway point for the 1 Mile, and 3 Mile distances*

Mile 1.5 (really): Okay, that makes WAAAAAY more sense!

Mile 2.5: I’m glad I came here! Look at all these people happy to be here! People who look just like me.

Mile 3.5: It’s cool. It’s not like I even wanted the sun to come out. Don’t mind us out here.

Mile 4.5: Um…I think we’re going the wrong way.

End: Awwww back to the cute balloon arch. Wait. What’s that he’s holding out? Are. Those. Medals?!?!?!?!?!!? Yassssssssss Father God!

Yep. The kid did something good for her health and she was rewarded with a medal! You might look at it and say, “That’s small…” or “It’s not as big and blingly like your other ones…” and you would be right. But it’s a medal, it’s mine and I earned it! And I’m 5 miles and another medal closer to my goal!

Sounds like a WIN to me!

This Race: 5 miler, Soul Stroll 2014, San Mateo CA

Medaled Miles to date: 37.67 miles

Total Raced Miles to date: 40.77miles

7 Medals To Go ǁ 50% Complete

I Made New Friends: Balls Involved

You already know I would have got in!

I sat in a Ball Pit.

I am in my 30's and I sat in a Ball Pit. One made by students with folding tables, plastic wrap and physics. At work. In the middle of the day. Having just come from a rally on campus “calling for justice” at the report of a hate/bias incident. A rally where current students protested for the microphone to speak out against the Administration, and specifically their belief of its inability to support them.

I passed the Ball Pit on the way to the rally. I stopped on my way back to my office. I took off my Cathy Jean boots. I got my 30+ year old body as low to the ground as humanly possible. I climbed in.

I made new friends.

This year, during the student staff training I showed a video a friend (FMB) posted to Facebook. SoulPancake (follow them, it’ll be the best follow you make as you endeavor to lead) created a Ball Pit. They only asked two things of potential ball pit’ers. Take a seat. Make a new friend. I loved that video so much! I shared it on my various social media pages. Told my friends about it, and talked it up to my Professional Staff team. I wanted this type of simplicity to be the vehicle in which we tackled a complexity facing students face today: building connections, engaging in conversations, and creating community.

Lots of people made new friends.

In the Ball Pit I was asked a few questions, obviously. First, about something “life-changing” in my existence. I told them about my experience being American, not in America. About going to Europe and embracing this new identity that I’ve always had. I have been American in Texas, California, New York, New Jersey and even Arkansas. And it was not until I got to the Netherlands, thousands of miles away from the United States, did I see America in me. As if my life was being documented and narrated in a Soledad O’Brien expose on a group’s lived experience in some unheard of sect of the world. One young lady, an 18 year old junior from the East Bay, said that she wanted to study abroad. She seemed enamored with my European travels. I’m enamored with them too.

Next I was asked about love. I was asked to tell them about the first time I fell in love. Everyone in the Ball Pit looked to me, as I earlier revealed my age, assuming that I would have a (great) response. They were smiling. One young lady admitted that she’s never fallen in love. Two things happened. I immediately thought to the love I most recently lost. And that made me silent. Silent and still. Then I remembered all the love I ever had before that…loss. I told them about “a” time I fell in love, because for me, there isn’t a first or second or last. There is just love. I described the feeling as being connected to a person in every single way, who hasn’t even figured out everything there is to know about you.  Being loved in, through and despite the unknown. Love you for your good, your bad and your unknown. Being free to love each other. There’s nothing that you don’t know about each other and its okay. Like the parachute jump[1] Zora Neale Hurston spoke and wrote of. And though I have hit the ground a few times, I soared all the way down. I think they might have been a little confused by that explanation…kinda like Joe.

Lastly, I was asked about inspiration. Who inspires me? I went last. Not because I did not have a response, but that they seemed so ready to answer to this question. Each one of them spoke of a parent, as many of us can. A parent or guardian that has saved every day for them with their super human powers of care, sacrifice, laughter, wisdom and love. I have a similar narrative. My father’s struggles are epic battles…like the Zooks and the Yooks warring over the rights to butter side up or down their toast. My Daddie is undefeated. And even though I know that he will not live always, he has already left his legacy. My Daddie has already made a provision for my children’s future. Nestled safely in me. I will somehow become all the great things he wanted to be, when he can no longer do that in this life. Congestive heart failure is not strong enough to take him out. It will just reveal a new champion. I’ve already volunteered #HungerGames. But I did not say any of that.

I told them about Thomas Henderson. A sixteen year old kid from Wexford, PA who changed the course of my entire life in one month. Thomas and I went through the forming, storming and norming in a matter of hours. And though he is no longer with me, we will never adjourn. He is the reason I show up. He is the reason I have this passion for this work. I want to be better for Thomas when I am unable to find a reason to be better for myself. And, he is also the reason TSA has to ask me to go back through the detectors or make me stand to the side to be searched by the next female officer. I have usually forgotten to take something off, because I am dressed like I am going to work, at the airport, at 6:00am. At the McCarran Airport in Las Vegas. With a half marathon medal around my neck. Because Thomas showed me how to pay respect to the pilots that get me from race, to conference, to home, to Christmas break – pilots that I never see. Thomas’ father was his champion – flying the not always “so friendly” skies.

So, right in the moment when my staff needed me to be in my office carefully crafting correspondences to those who needed to know what they needed to know to better support them, I was in a Ball Pit – being their champion. Only, I had no idea. The students in the Ball Pit also asked me what was on my bucket list. My list is pretty abstract. One thing, however abstract, on my list, is to do something, for someone who owes me nothing. Something that changes everything for them, kind of the way Thomas changed me. I am not even sure I want to know what it is I have done (I totally do not want to know), or get some grand show of gratitude (grand shows about me make me incredibly anxious and awkward #ImmaFakeLeoSometimes). I just want to get that feeling deep down in my spirit that I accomplished it. Now, I have imagined that this thing will take some huge sacrifice, right? That it is going to cost me tons of money, or time, or energy. I am going to have to stop, mid-haste to the next shoe sale to do this very important thing. That is how I have day dreamed it – which surprises me because I am usually more creative.

When I woke up this morning at 5:45am, I got the feeling that maybe I did it. I showed a video in late August days before my 33^rd birthday. I had no idea that three months later, I would sitting in a Ball Pit, steps from my office, making new friends, on a day the campus is wrought with so much negative energy about race, violence, crime, misunderstanding that doing just that, making a new friend, is the last thing anyone really wants to do.

But. Anyone who knows me knows I am an (over)achiever. If I did indeed “do it” already, I am going to try and do it again. 5:45am never feels like that. It felt damn good. 5:45am NEVER feels (damn) good! Not even when there’s a race medal involved. #MedalMonday

Yep. I’m pretty sure I did it.

The real donut monster is reading this, and she just called me an overachiever. #14in2014

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[1] “I didn’t just fall in love, I made a parachute jump.” #ZNH