I stepped out of the pickup into the warm, damp Virginia air and hid my keys. On my left, a large field with a cemetery; on my right, a Baptist church whose parking lot I was using. The breeze fought its way through nearby thick tree cover, and gently brushed again my exposed chest. All else was still. I hit start on my watch and started shuffling onto the road. With no shoulder, I ran along the side of the skinny road, hoping that every driver I encountered today would be kind.*
It was around 8:30 on a Wednesday morning in rural Gloucester, Virginia. The sky was overcast, threatening rain, while the air, damp and refreshed with a cool breeze, hinted at humidity levels unparalleled west of the Missouri River. My road of choice today was a 6 mile loop through an area called a 'neck', which is essentially a piece of a peninsula. Somewhere only a few miles to the east was a large bay feeding into the Chesapeake Bay, but with such abundant tree cover, line of sight was usually blocked within a couple hundred yards, at most.
Just a few days before, my school year had finally come to an end. We all had to deal with a unique and fluid style of education that changed everything. Perhaps most important to me, I found myself sitting at home by myself for the majority of the day, five days a week. I would grade, check emails, and create assignments, but even through zoom calls with students, something was missing. I found myself attacking Ingrid when she got home, incessantly talking her ear off until she begged for mercy. I found myself getting abnormally angry at things and situations that weren't a big deal. I found myself at times paralyzed and unable to do basic household chores because I was just....lonely.
As I finished my warm up, I knew that I would need to take a pee before I started my work out, but this isn't some dusty gravel road in the middle of no where, and I can't just pull up anywhere and do what I need to do. So, I identified a good spot, checked for cars, jumped the ditch, ran past a NO TRESSPASSING sign, and hid in the trees. While I answered Nature's call, a vehicle drove past, and I got right up against a tree and hid. Noticing nothing, the driver continued without changing speed or direction. As the car drove away, I listened intently to sound of the wind, trying to detect any cars in the distance that may see me when I popped out of the woods. Hearing nothing unusual, I quickly ran out to the road and began my workout. The goal: 10 miles at 6:20/mile.
I've been taking extra time during quarantine to drive to local areas for my daily run- anything to try to get out of the house for a bit, less my mental and emotional health decline. I've run at the high school (nobody there and I got kicked out after 2 months, because "it's closed"), a local middle school (nobody there), and a local park with trails (maybe a couple people on a weekday). What used to be my retreat from people and chance to reflect on my day has now turned into my public appearances. It also allows me to get away from the noise of internet and social media in the middle of absolute chaos. I've also been incredibly blessed to find a person to go run with in the mountains, which has lifted my spirits as well.
My first mile was 6:20, and my second mile was 6:21. I feel smooth and relaxed, confident that I'm going to be able to finish this workout. I'm training for a trail race next month in the Badlands of western North Dakota, where a piece of my heart currently resides somewhere in a north-facing juniper thicket overlooking the Little Missouri River. Before that I race I will have driven from Virginia to North Dakota to California back to North Dakota. Throughout that time, I'll see the landscape change from the East Coast to the Interior Lowlands, from the Midwest to the Great Plains, from the Rocky Mountains to the Sierras, and back.
Right now, all over the United States, people are faced with the same struggles- shuttered businesses, a global pandemic, race relations and police brutality, protests on the streets and at state capitals, and continued questions of when certain things will be open, and in what way. We're all struggling in our own way right now, straining to find a sense of normalcy in a sea of confusion and despair.
Running is my outlet. As the miles click by, the pace slowly increases. I run past woods, beat up trailers, a couple reclaimed plantations, roads that disappear into the trees, corn fields, and beautiful two story homes with American flags draped over the front porch. Though this is confederate country, I don't come across any confederate flags. The town I live in does have a large confederate monument, however, and we have seen all over the country how these symbols have become flash points in the debate over racism and how the country grapples with it to this day. I have students who are likely descendants of slaves, and other students who are likely descendants of slave owners. My ancestors farmed in a state that wasn't a state until 25 years after the Civil War was over, and so I've been learning a lot just by being here.
After mile 5, I decide that I feel a little too comfortable and start increasing the pace more, now entering into the 6:10/mile and faster range. I begin to make my second loop around the area, and not much has changed. Some of the houses around this area look incredibly tall and mighty, but upon further inspection have been lifted many feet off the ground by brick. With tropical storms and hurricanes always a worry on the East Coast during the summer and early fall months, storm surge is one of the biggest fears. Down here, people live only a few feet above sea level, and when storm surge brings water 4-6 feet above sea level, not only are roads inundated with water to where travel by anything other than a boat is impossible, but people's homes are in significant danger if they are not raised from the ground. Basements aren't even discussed. The strongest foundation of the home can actually be above ground, protecting the home from natural disaster.
Many people have used this pandemic to reset the foundation in their life. I've taken the opportunity to reset my training, and many people have started projects at home, re-thought education, cooked new meals, checked finances and budgeted, and started new workout routines. We have been forced to examine our humanity and strip it down to the most basic layers of survival- food, water, and shelter, mostly because that's all the government would allow us to do. I think travel and movement is also a basic human function, and that's why bicycle sales have been at record highs, and so many people are out walking and jogging.
I finish my last few miles, chopping down to a 5:57 last mile, and come to a halt. My shorts have long since lost their last remaining dry spot, and my shoes are making squishing noises with each step. Sweat rolls of my face, arms, and legs. I stand up and start walking. It's quiet. I'm proud of what I've accomplished, but I also know that each step towards the pickup is a step towards having to go home and be alone. It's been a rough stretch these last few months, but somehow I think I'll emerge from this stronger. I've never wanted to be back in the school more than I do right now, and I'm really enjoying running right now, too. What really lifted my spirits though, was last week, in the middle of all of the chaos and panic, I had two students express that they actually missed having me as a teacher. That's all I needed.
Time to go clean.
*I was wrong, as usual. One thing that truly unites Americans all over the country is their distaste for slowing down and moving over for bikers and runners. 'Murica
