Corriendo

Five letters and four words

I went out for an easy five miler this evening. It was my first time out of my apartment and away from my laptop for more than 10 minutes. I needed that run after spending several hours trying to make progress on my dissertation and only have a few pages to show for it.

The run was good. Even better, as I ran near the local elementary school I heard a man call out, “Good luck on Sunday!”

Those four words snapped my attention away from the podcast playing on low volume through my earbuds (Slate’s Culture Gabfest). I had just a moment to yell back, “Thanks!”

I’m not sure he heard me as he drove in the opposite direction.

As I continued my run, I wondered how he could tell I was training for the LA Marathon. Maybe he had just seen signs about road closures a few miles north in Beverly Hills and the race was on his mind. I thought about how those four words were much better than January’s drive-by egging. I thought about identity (again, back to the dissertation) and how being recognized by others is part of identity development. I’ve labeled myself as a runner for a couple of years, but today a stranger saw me and figured I was running the marathon on Sunday. I wasn’t even wearing the traffic cone orange 2011 LA Marathon tech tee. I had plenty of time to over think those four words as I ran for another half hour.

My drive-by well-wisher probably just wanted to offer some encouragement.

It worked.

Corriendo

Rainy race revisited

Last year, I ran the LA Marathon in a fierce storm. I was wet and cold for over four hours, but I didn’t complain even when I had to stop at an aid tent for a band-aid for my bloody ankles. The band-aid came off after five minutes.

The rain made the race more interesting, the chafing worse, and the post-race period awful. In hindsight, it wasn’t that bad running through rain. I felt like badass for running through this. (Afterward was a whole different story, I was miserable. It took me a long time to feel warm again even after changing in to dry clothes and drinking some tea.)

It was good to experience. I don’t want to do it again, but I might have to.

I checked the 10-day forecast on Friday. I laughed when I saw this. It can’t be as bad as last year. I’d rather have this than lots of sunshine and predicted highs in the 70s and 80s like it’s been recently.

Viajes

Joshua Tree National Park trip

While a bunch of Angelenos were all excited about a rock from Riverside County making a very slow trip to the LA County Museum of Art (LACMA), Sean and I decided to go to Riverside County and see some more impressive rocks… and trees.

In the middle of the week, I suggested taking a trip to Joshua Tree National Park to celebrate our second anniversary. A few things made it attractive: neither of us had visited; it’s close (2 hours is close in Southern California); it’s inexpensive; and it’d offer lots of great views/sites to photograph. About the first one, I’ve been to the Coachella Valley and Palm Desert several times with friends and family but I’d never been to the park. My Mojave Desert camping experience had been limited to Kern River. Sean was down.

We headed out Sunday morning and arrived in Joshua Tree early in the afternoon. Our first stop was at the visitor’s center to get more water and some maps. Our plan for the day: lunch at the Hidden Valley picnic area; exploring the Hidden Valley nature loop; and then hanging out at Key’s View until sunset.

Continue reading →

Cultura

The privilege to sweat

Some time last fall I discovered a new blog about running. I added it to my already too long list of running blogs in Google Reader. I unsubscribed a few weeks later when I realized I wasn’t very interested in what she had to say.

One thing that stuck out about this blog was how she frequently showed photos of her (or friends) in a t-shirt proclaiming “I ♥ sweat.” The shirt was sold to help her fundraise for an organization that does research to find a cure for a chronic illness.

There was something about the t-shirt that got to me, aside from seeing it a dozen times after following the blog for a couple weeks. I didn’t figure it out until I started thinking about the running community and issues of race and class thanks to a Runner’s World article.

I don’t love sweat. I sweat most days when I go out for a run, lift weights or go to the gym for some cross training. I chose to sweat most of the time because (a) I’ve never had a job that requires regular manual labor, (b) I live in LA where summers are comparatively mild and not humid and (c) I have the luxury of having my own car with air conditioning.

I haven’t always recognized my privilege, but family and friends keep me in check when they feel my soft hands that have never done “real work.” (Except when I help out with the biennial mulberry tree trimming project at my parent’s house as above.)

My grandparents’ and parents’ hands aren’t so soft and smooth. My grandparents came to this country to do hard work in the fields, landscaping, and in heavy industry. They didn’t sweat because it was their hobby and they loved it, but because they needed to feed, clothe and house their families. Through their work, they gave their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren opportunities they never imagined.

I get to leave work at the end of the day feeling energized enough to run 5 miles and work up a sweat. Thanks for giving me that privilege, abuelitos.

Cuentos

Two years

At our first date, a Bird and the Bee concert, I asked Sean to be my fucking boyfriend. I was quoting a song by the band, but I meant it. He said yes.

We were official. That was two years ago.

A few days later, he returned to New York and we began 9 months of a long distance relationship. Now, we’re in the same city and planning a wedding. I like the changes.