Here's a story providing a sense of local flavor of my turf for the campaign from The New York Post. It should be kept on file for all future saps--I mean, field organizers--sent there in the future.
This is the write-up for the Caroline Kennedy Gathering in the Villages from the largest local newspaper, The Ocala Star Banner.
Time: 84 minutes
Place: Loch Raven/Ness Monster Run
Weather: Coldish
Distance: 7.1 miles
Feeling: Push! Push! Push!
Overall grade: B
Friday, January 30, 2009
Back in Time, Part III
A Window Into My Campaign Trail--
A Pack of Cats Like No Other
(the story concludes...)
The event was either going to be fantastic with very few snags or horrible with nothing but bumps. In my mind there was no peace; to say that I wasn't worried would be a revisionist view of history. I did have faith--a lot of faith--in the community of volunteers that had been built during the prior three months. I knew that this was their moment to shine, to show the national and local campaign staff, the Villages naysayers, the press that while we were grossly outnumbered in support in the Villages, we were enthusiastic, professional, and present. We were definitely worthy of a front page story.
I called my team leaders and they called their phone tree of volunteers. By 1:15 pm, greeted by a line that had been in place for over an hour inside the Savannah Center, 48 volunteers showed up. Paulette wasn't anywhere to be found; my Regional Field Director was lost in the maze of the Villages roads. I knew my volunteers best--their personalities, their commitment, their leadership styles. We held a meeting and I assigned them to roles with captains. I set them free to be the ambassadors of the campaign and their neighborhoods.
While I ran left and right completing last minute details and discussing the flow of the afternoon with the Villages and campaign staff, the volunteers took ownership of their roles. Parking Attendants filled every last legal spot with stickered Obama golf carts and cars in the lot until the police closed it off. Line Captains worked the line that had wound through the building and around the entire perimeter of the building in the heat, passing out stickers, candy, and water. Ushers kept a careful account of how many entered the room after the doors opened and sat people in an orderly fashion until all the seats were gone. The Villages Event Staff never had to be called.
Two of my volunteers, Bill and Walter, worked with the Villages Recreation Staff on a regular basis through the Housing Development Association. They served as my troubleshooters; already having a relationship with the guys in charge certainly helped. Walter helped all of us realize that now that the event was in progress, everybody wanted the same result. In front of every area media outlet--print and television alike--the campaign and the Villages both wanted the day to run smoothly, making as many people feel included and happy as possible. When the line was still wrapping around the building even after 500 people had been let for seating and standing room only, Bill intervened with the Fire Marshall. The Fire Marshall agreed to let 100 more people in, then 100 more and continued to do so until the final cap was at 1050. Over 1000 people gathered at a Villages recreation center to see a Democratic surrogate--it is not an exaggeration to say that this was a monumental and historical first for the Villages Democrats.
When Caroline Kennedy arrived, despite being over an hour behind schedule, the room erupted in thunderous applause. She spoke for only 12 minutes to people who had waited over four hours to see her. It didn't matter. The exuberant pride and joy that people felt was palpable. People looked to their left, to their right, over their shoulders, realizing that they were in it together. They no longer had to feel like the outsiders.
People often ask me what my proudest moment was during the campaign, expecting that I will say the moment I heard MSNBC announce that Florida had turned blue. Surprisingly, it's not; this event holds that prize for me. It was here when I watched the community that we worked so hard to create and maintain through the ups and downs of those months flourish and knew that beyond the election it would remain in tact. We got our front page article in The Daily Sun, and in almost every other local paper as well, but the Villages Democrats walked away with so much more.
Time: 38 minutes
Place: Paved Park/ Steph's Front yard
Weather: Warmer than it looks, but still icy.
Distance: 4 x 800s, .5 mile warm up
Feeling: Still got a long way to go...
Overall grade: B-
A Pack of Cats Like No Other
(the story concludes...)
The event was either going to be fantastic with very few snags or horrible with nothing but bumps. In my mind there was no peace; to say that I wasn't worried would be a revisionist view of history. I did have faith--a lot of faith--in the community of volunteers that had been built during the prior three months. I knew that this was their moment to shine, to show the national and local campaign staff, the Villages naysayers, the press that while we were grossly outnumbered in support in the Villages, we were enthusiastic, professional, and present. We were definitely worthy of a front page story.
I called my team leaders and they called their phone tree of volunteers. By 1:15 pm, greeted by a line that had been in place for over an hour inside the Savannah Center, 48 volunteers showed up. Paulette wasn't anywhere to be found; my Regional Field Director was lost in the maze of the Villages roads. I knew my volunteers best--their personalities, their commitment, their leadership styles. We held a meeting and I assigned them to roles with captains. I set them free to be the ambassadors of the campaign and their neighborhoods.
While I ran left and right completing last minute details and discussing the flow of the afternoon with the Villages and campaign staff, the volunteers took ownership of their roles. Parking Attendants filled every last legal spot with stickered Obama golf carts and cars in the lot until the police closed it off. Line Captains worked the line that had wound through the building and around the entire perimeter of the building in the heat, passing out stickers, candy, and water. Ushers kept a careful account of how many entered the room after the doors opened and sat people in an orderly fashion until all the seats were gone. The Villages Event Staff never had to be called.
Two of my volunteers, Bill and Walter, worked with the Villages Recreation Staff on a regular basis through the Housing Development Association. They served as my troubleshooters; already having a relationship with the guys in charge certainly helped. Walter helped all of us realize that now that the event was in progress, everybody wanted the same result. In front of every area media outlet--print and television alike--the campaign and the Villages both wanted the day to run smoothly, making as many people feel included and happy as possible. When the line was still wrapping around the building even after 500 people had been let for seating and standing room only, Bill intervened with the Fire Marshall. The Fire Marshall agreed to let 100 more people in, then 100 more and continued to do so until the final cap was at 1050. Over 1000 people gathered at a Villages recreation center to see a Democratic surrogate--it is not an exaggeration to say that this was a monumental and historical first for the Villages Democrats.
When Caroline Kennedy arrived, despite being over an hour behind schedule, the room erupted in thunderous applause. She spoke for only 12 minutes to people who had waited over four hours to see her. It didn't matter. The exuberant pride and joy that people felt was palpable. People looked to their left, to their right, over their shoulders, realizing that they were in it together. They no longer had to feel like the outsiders.
People often ask me what my proudest moment was during the campaign, expecting that I will say the moment I heard MSNBC announce that Florida had turned blue. Surprisingly, it's not; this event holds that prize for me. It was here when I watched the community that we worked so hard to create and maintain through the ups and downs of those months flourish and knew that beyond the election it would remain in tact. We got our front page article in The Daily Sun, and in almost every other local paper as well, but the Villages Democrats walked away with so much more.
Time: 38 minutes
Place: Paved Park/ Steph's Front yard
Weather: Warmer than it looks, but still icy.
Distance: 4 x 800s, .5 mile warm up
Feeling: Still got a long way to go...
Overall grade: B-
Ode to the Fast and Patient
I have always been the slow one. It matched my name. It matched my wishy-washy commitment to training. It matched my attitude. Even if I wanted to run faster, I found that I was too out of shape to go very far... and so there I always was as the caboose of the running train, sometimes irritated, sometimes complacent, mostly counting steps until the torturous exercise was over.
Today, in conditions that I never could have been convinced to run in a year ago, I found myself in an odd, uncomfortable position. At Fleet Feet, running in normal slow group but with new people, I was the FAST one. Let me repeat that craziness--I WAS THE FAST ONE! And it was horrible... We ran two minutes and walked one (as we always do, as the owners of the store and leaders are big fans of the Galloway program) at a pace that was averaging 17 minute miles. Seriously, most people walk faster than that, and it was five minutes slower than the slowest run/walk pace we have ever run in our group (hills included). I was cold, barely raising my heartbeat, barely breaking a sweat. I couldn't stay with my group; as soon as I knew where I was going, I 'sprinted' off. The total run experience was more irritating, more frustrating, more torturous than ever being left behind.
To all of my running partners of present and past who have taken strides that are quicker or longer, and often times both, but opted to run slower with me, I clink my running shoes to you. In all runs, I realize, there is more than merely getting out there. Little did I know how much you pushed aside to run by my side. The steps are always easier with you there, and I am grateful your company and encouragement. But before the frustration mounds, I encourage you to allow me to watch your swift and graceful motion slip away. I'm slow, I know, so I'll just be a bit behind.
Time: 40 minutes
Place: Pikesville
Weather: Dark and Icy!
Distance: 2.3 miles
Feeling: Did I even break a sweat?
Overall grade: D
Today, in conditions that I never could have been convinced to run in a year ago, I found myself in an odd, uncomfortable position. At Fleet Feet, running in normal slow group but with new people, I was the FAST one. Let me repeat that craziness--I WAS THE FAST ONE! And it was horrible... We ran two minutes and walked one (as we always do, as the owners of the store and leaders are big fans of the Galloway program) at a pace that was averaging 17 minute miles. Seriously, most people walk faster than that, and it was five minutes slower than the slowest run/walk pace we have ever run in our group (hills included). I was cold, barely raising my heartbeat, barely breaking a sweat. I couldn't stay with my group; as soon as I knew where I was going, I 'sprinted' off. The total run experience was more irritating, more frustrating, more torturous than ever being left behind.
To all of my running partners of present and past who have taken strides that are quicker or longer, and often times both, but opted to run slower with me, I clink my running shoes to you. In all runs, I realize, there is more than merely getting out there. Little did I know how much you pushed aside to run by my side. The steps are always easier with you there, and I am grateful your company and encouragement. But before the frustration mounds, I encourage you to allow me to watch your swift and graceful motion slip away. I'm slow, I know, so I'll just be a bit behind.
Time: 40 minutes
Place: Pikesville
Weather: Dark and Icy!
Distance: 2.3 miles
Feeling: Did I even break a sweat?
Overall grade: D
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Back In Time, Part II
A Window Into My Campaign Trail--
A Pack of Cats Like No Other
(the story continues...)
I didn’t know what to expect from the event. The timing was difficult—Senator Biden had a rally in Ocala the day before and that had to take precedence. Our regional team, my boss and the other field organizers, were over the moon to actually get Biden in our area; all hands were on deck for making the rally an overall success. My volunteers spent their call time in the days prior building for Biden. One day out, after we returned from Biden’s packed rally, my local field office was empty. I spent the remainder of my day solidifying details at the Savannah Center. In the five days we had known about Caroline Kennedy's gathering, not a single phone call was made out of my office solely to invite people to attend.
Looking back, we did nothing spectacular to guarantee a crowd. I sent an email to my volunteers. Details ran in the local papers, and even The Daily Sun mentioned that Caroline Kennedy was coming (albeit not on the front page). Most powerfully, though, I set the retiree grapevine loose—a major national surrogate was coming to their stomping grounds. Even more unbelievably, it was a member of the American Democratic Royalty who they had first seen as a little girl standing next to her beloved father. Because of who the speaker was, the significance of the location and the national temperature for the election, it created the perfect storm and this event built itself. There were no questions that we were going to fill the allotted 400 seats; the real question was how many people would we turn away.
My sole responsibility for the event was to fill every single seat; beyond that, all decisions were someone else’s call. The campaign had assigned Caroline Kennedy an advance staff to iron out the kinks. The advantage for me was they insure all aspects were positioned to Ms. Kennedy’s liking. The disadvantage was that they were unfamiliar with the politics of the locations and, in this case, the budget of the event. My advance team staffer, Paulette, arrived like a hurricane. She was dressed in bright turquoise over-sized straw hat covering rumpled long blonde hair, a Goofy t-shirt about a size too small, sandals, and an explanation of lost luggage. She came in with self-perceived bright, amazing ideas, talked a mile a minute combining demands with flattery, monopolized five and six hours of time for every meeting, and then flitted away to do another event. Paulette would leave one impression with the campaign scheduler and state staff, another with the Villages, and yet another with me. When the Villages staff changed their minds about the possibility of one of her brilliant ideas or when my Regional Field Director was told from higher up the chain that those ideas were not going to be funded, Paulette was gone. I was left alone to make the decisions—a daunting task considering I didn’t actually have the power to make any.
Paulette, the Villages event and recreation staff, and I met the morning of the event. The main reason for the meeting was to meet the Fire Marshall; the Villages staff was worried that our event would violate fire code because of the number of people who would want to attend. We had a strict order that we had to count the number of people who came in the doors of the grand ballroom—after 600, no more people could enter. It was at that moment that the Villages Staff also decided to spring one more snag into the operation—according to the finest print of our contract, at any point should a Village staffer decide that our event needed to be managed by professionals, they would call in their event staff, adding significant extra cost to the already high rental fees. Seemingly cooperative but highly suspicious of our ability to handle the inherent circus that this would be, they raised concerns over the entrance line, parking, seating, and overflow. Paulette just shrugged it off, spewing off a dozen or so things I for me to do in the interim instead, but sirens went off inside my head. I was keenly aware the campaign would not pay for any more expenses. I asserted we had volunteers who could help us—as many as 50 who were just waiting for my call who would help me manage the event. The number and my confidence, masking my terror of more bills, seemed to satisfy the Villages staff for the time being, though they didn’t hesitate to remind me that their event staff was already on-call.
I left the meeting at 11:30 and I needed to be back to at 1:00 with 50 volunteers on hand. There was only one small glitch. I had scheduled only seven to help with the event.
(story to be continued...)
Time: 21 minutes (Run 2/Walk 1)
Place: Steph's Front Yard
Weather: Snow fallin'
Distance: 1.83 miles
Feeling: Steep hills induce shortness of breath.
Overall grade: B-
A Pack of Cats Like No Other
(the story continues...)
I didn’t know what to expect from the event. The timing was difficult—Senator Biden had a rally in Ocala the day before and that had to take precedence. Our regional team, my boss and the other field organizers, were over the moon to actually get Biden in our area; all hands were on deck for making the rally an overall success. My volunteers spent their call time in the days prior building for Biden. One day out, after we returned from Biden’s packed rally, my local field office was empty. I spent the remainder of my day solidifying details at the Savannah Center. In the five days we had known about Caroline Kennedy's gathering, not a single phone call was made out of my office solely to invite people to attend.
Looking back, we did nothing spectacular to guarantee a crowd. I sent an email to my volunteers. Details ran in the local papers, and even The Daily Sun mentioned that Caroline Kennedy was coming (albeit not on the front page). Most powerfully, though, I set the retiree grapevine loose—a major national surrogate was coming to their stomping grounds. Even more unbelievably, it was a member of the American Democratic Royalty who they had first seen as a little girl standing next to her beloved father. Because of who the speaker was, the significance of the location and the national temperature for the election, it created the perfect storm and this event built itself. There were no questions that we were going to fill the allotted 400 seats; the real question was how many people would we turn away.
My sole responsibility for the event was to fill every single seat; beyond that, all decisions were someone else’s call. The campaign had assigned Caroline Kennedy an advance staff to iron out the kinks. The advantage for me was they insure all aspects were positioned to Ms. Kennedy’s liking. The disadvantage was that they were unfamiliar with the politics of the locations and, in this case, the budget of the event. My advance team staffer, Paulette, arrived like a hurricane. She was dressed in bright turquoise over-sized straw hat covering rumpled long blonde hair, a Goofy t-shirt about a size too small, sandals, and an explanation of lost luggage. She came in with self-perceived bright, amazing ideas, talked a mile a minute combining demands with flattery, monopolized five and six hours of time for every meeting, and then flitted away to do another event. Paulette would leave one impression with the campaign scheduler and state staff, another with the Villages, and yet another with me. When the Villages staff changed their minds about the possibility of one of her brilliant ideas or when my Regional Field Director was told from higher up the chain that those ideas were not going to be funded, Paulette was gone. I was left alone to make the decisions—a daunting task considering I didn’t actually have the power to make any.
Paulette, the Villages event and recreation staff, and I met the morning of the event. The main reason for the meeting was to meet the Fire Marshall; the Villages staff was worried that our event would violate fire code because of the number of people who would want to attend. We had a strict order that we had to count the number of people who came in the doors of the grand ballroom—after 600, no more people could enter. It was at that moment that the Villages Staff also decided to spring one more snag into the operation—according to the finest print of our contract, at any point should a Village staffer decide that our event needed to be managed by professionals, they would call in their event staff, adding significant extra cost to the already high rental fees. Seemingly cooperative but highly suspicious of our ability to handle the inherent circus that this would be, they raised concerns over the entrance line, parking, seating, and overflow. Paulette just shrugged it off, spewing off a dozen or so things I for me to do in the interim instead, but sirens went off inside my head. I was keenly aware the campaign would not pay for any more expenses. I asserted we had volunteers who could help us—as many as 50 who were just waiting for my call who would help me manage the event. The number and my confidence, masking my terror of more bills, seemed to satisfy the Villages staff for the time being, though they didn’t hesitate to remind me that their event staff was already on-call.
I left the meeting at 11:30 and I needed to be back to at 1:00 with 50 volunteers on hand. There was only one small glitch. I had scheduled only seven to help with the event.
(story to be continued...)
Time: 21 minutes (Run 2/Walk 1)
Place: Steph's Front Yard
Weather: Snow fallin'
Distance: 1.83 miles
Feeling: Steep hills induce shortness of breath.
Overall grade: B-
Back In Time, Part I
A Window Into My Campaign Trail--
A Pack of Cats Like No Other
“We want the front page! We want the front page!” shouted a chorus of hundreds. It wasn’t the usual political chant you might have heard at a typical political rally; there were no repetitions of a ‘fired up’ ‘yes we can.’ The volume, the statement told the story of how far these gathered Obama supporters had come--in this unlikely story found in The Villages, located in central Florida, they demanded to be heard.
The Villages is the home of some 70,000 retirees, mostly imports from the Northeast and the Midwest, spanning over three counties in central Florida. It is a manufactured community, complete with two town squares (designed by the Universal Studios architect responsible for creating Main Street USA), man made lakes, row upon row of identical one story ranch homes, and guarding gates (that for most places open freely). The residents move here for the ambiance the development both creates and suggests-- easier, friendlier, breezier life of retirement. Villagers agree almost unanimously that the lifestyle they gain cannot be matched anywhere else, with the countless pools and recreation centers, 34 golf courses, and the boasted 1,000 daily activities occurring. It is “America’s Friendliest Hometown!”
And yet for the Democrats who live in the Villages, they find themselves constantly wading through unfriendly waters. Developer and CEO Gary Morse is one of the largest contributors to and fundraisers for the Republican party in the state of Florida, and he does not hesitate to rigorously promulgate his influence. The official radio station carries FOX News, and the development advertises for new residents on the FOX News cable station. The newspaper The Daily Sun, produced solely by the development, reads with an undeniable bias. Democrats steered clear of politics at dinner parties, avoiding ‘outing’ themselves as holding beliefs against the majority. Privately, they complained in 2004 that the tires on their golf carts may have been slashed if it bore a Kerry/ Edwards sticker. It was the popular belief that Democratic attention from a national or statewide campaign would never be given to the area and, while Villagers campaigned for Democratic candidates actively locally through their clubs, they needed to concentrate outside of the development if there was to be any success. As created, the Democratic efforts would always wane in comparison to the Rebuplican's iron fist.
The Village Democrats were not wrong in their assessment--never before had the Democratic party given any serious attention to the counties where the Villages are located; after all, they went 17 points for Bush’s favor in 2004, and the Villages went 2 to 1 for Bush. It was an unlikely spot for a Democratic field organizer to be assigned. But there I was—at first, part of a team of three covering these three counties and, by October, one of a baker's dozen. My sole responsibility was the Villages and its immediate surroundings. I was told it would be a ‘unique’ experience, similar to ‘herding cats.’ Some of the people with whom I would work were already Democratic activists; because there was not a primary in Florida, none of them were likely to be familiar with the philosophies of the Obama campaign. My job would be to harness their energy to follow the strategies of this campaign. Despite my surroundings, I was responsible for the same number of votes as each of my colleagues in Miami, Orlando, anywhere in the sunshine state.
For four months I worked alongside the Villagers. I started with a small group of fourteen on the town square’s Starbucks, but quickly grew. By mid July, the Villagers for Obama had an organizational meeting that had over 60 attendees, the largest in the region by a landslide. We continued recruiting; people found our offices (unlike the Republicans, we could not afford an office on the town square, so we were located just outside the Villages in the city of Lady Lake); friends asked friends to join the movement. Our numbers, in terms of voter contact, were solid; we were throwing house parties, hand delivering postcards to undecided voters, reaching our goals. We hosted two events at a local restaurant with national surrogate speakers that were filled to the limit. By September, we had more than 200 active volunteers, making on average over 5000 phone calls a week to voters in the area.
Now, six days before the election, the crowd had gathered for an event labeled, “An Early Vote Gathering with Caroline Kennedy,” held at the Savannah Center in the heart of the Villages. It was the only space able to be secured that could hold the upwards of 500 people. It was also the only space the Villages Corporation allowed the Tri-County Democratic Club to rent, the most expensive space and one of two places in the development where people could visit freely without a Villages ID.
(story to be continued...)
Time: 35 minutes (Run 3/Walk 1)
Place: Hilly Quarry
Weather: Cold
Distance: 3.0 miles
Feeling: This could have been worse.
Overall grade: C+
A Pack of Cats Like No Other
“We want the front page! We want the front page!” shouted a chorus of hundreds. It wasn’t the usual political chant you might have heard at a typical political rally; there were no repetitions of a ‘fired up’ ‘yes we can.’ The volume, the statement told the story of how far these gathered Obama supporters had come--in this unlikely story found in The Villages, located in central Florida, they demanded to be heard.
The Villages is the home of some 70,000 retirees, mostly imports from the Northeast and the Midwest, spanning over three counties in central Florida. It is a manufactured community, complete with two town squares (designed by the Universal Studios architect responsible for creating Main Street USA), man made lakes, row upon row of identical one story ranch homes, and guarding gates (that for most places open freely). The residents move here for the ambiance the development both creates and suggests-- easier, friendlier, breezier life of retirement. Villagers agree almost unanimously that the lifestyle they gain cannot be matched anywhere else, with the countless pools and recreation centers, 34 golf courses, and the boasted 1,000 daily activities occurring. It is “America’s Friendliest Hometown!”
And yet for the Democrats who live in the Villages, they find themselves constantly wading through unfriendly waters. Developer and CEO Gary Morse is one of the largest contributors to and fundraisers for the Republican party in the state of Florida, and he does not hesitate to rigorously promulgate his influence. The official radio station carries FOX News, and the development advertises for new residents on the FOX News cable station. The newspaper The Daily Sun, produced solely by the development, reads with an undeniable bias. Democrats steered clear of politics at dinner parties, avoiding ‘outing’ themselves as holding beliefs against the majority. Privately, they complained in 2004 that the tires on their golf carts may have been slashed if it bore a Kerry/ Edwards sticker. It was the popular belief that Democratic attention from a national or statewide campaign would never be given to the area and, while Villagers campaigned for Democratic candidates actively locally through their clubs, they needed to concentrate outside of the development if there was to be any success. As created, the Democratic efforts would always wane in comparison to the Rebuplican's iron fist.
The Village Democrats were not wrong in their assessment--never before had the Democratic party given any serious attention to the counties where the Villages are located; after all, they went 17 points for Bush’s favor in 2004, and the Villages went 2 to 1 for Bush. It was an unlikely spot for a Democratic field organizer to be assigned. But there I was—at first, part of a team of three covering these three counties and, by October, one of a baker's dozen. My sole responsibility was the Villages and its immediate surroundings. I was told it would be a ‘unique’ experience, similar to ‘herding cats.’ Some of the people with whom I would work were already Democratic activists; because there was not a primary in Florida, none of them were likely to be familiar with the philosophies of the Obama campaign. My job would be to harness their energy to follow the strategies of this campaign. Despite my surroundings, I was responsible for the same number of votes as each of my colleagues in Miami, Orlando, anywhere in the sunshine state.
For four months I worked alongside the Villagers. I started with a small group of fourteen on the town square’s Starbucks, but quickly grew. By mid July, the Villagers for Obama had an organizational meeting that had over 60 attendees, the largest in the region by a landslide. We continued recruiting; people found our offices (unlike the Republicans, we could not afford an office on the town square, so we were located just outside the Villages in the city of Lady Lake); friends asked friends to join the movement. Our numbers, in terms of voter contact, were solid; we were throwing house parties, hand delivering postcards to undecided voters, reaching our goals. We hosted two events at a local restaurant with national surrogate speakers that were filled to the limit. By September, we had more than 200 active volunteers, making on average over 5000 phone calls a week to voters in the area.
Now, six days before the election, the crowd had gathered for an event labeled, “An Early Vote Gathering with Caroline Kennedy,” held at the Savannah Center in the heart of the Villages. It was the only space able to be secured that could hold the upwards of 500 people. It was also the only space the Villages Corporation allowed the Tri-County Democratic Club to rent, the most expensive space and one of two places in the development where people could visit freely without a Villages ID.
(story to be continued...)
Time: 35 minutes (Run 3/Walk 1)
Place: Hilly Quarry
Weather: Cold
Distance: 3.0 miles
Feeling: This could have been worse.
Overall grade: C+
Saturday, January 24, 2009
The Usual Downs
Outside, white feathery flakes are softly falling, sneakily creating a cold blanket on the ground. The sky looks bleak with no indication of friendly rays pushing through. It must be cold today, and I will probably have to run... Making a run in the snow again is just the summit of my issues.
The last time I ran was exactly a week ago. Between then and now a whirlwind of events occurred for which I have been waiting for over two months, none of which (not surprisingly) involved running. Now they are past, and it's been seven days since I deliberately raised my heartbeat exercising and it's frigid and snowy... I want to remain inside curled up in a ball, warmed by blankets, seemingly without any type of worries. It's true--already I lack motivation (thinking more about the struggles I will have running than anything else).
And yet...
Today starts the official training time period for the Cherry Blossom Run. Running out of motivation is not permitted. I have to trudge forward. Mind over body? I'm not convincing myself.
On days like this I am thankful I have someone else pulling me along.
Time: 22 minutes
Place: Paved Park
Weather: Colder than cold!
Distance: 2.0 miles
Feeling: My thighs are frozen!
Overall grade: C
The last time I ran was exactly a week ago. Between then and now a whirlwind of events occurred for which I have been waiting for over two months, none of which (not surprisingly) involved running. Now they are past, and it's been seven days since I deliberately raised my heartbeat exercising and it's frigid and snowy... I want to remain inside curled up in a ball, warmed by blankets, seemingly without any type of worries. It's true--already I lack motivation (thinking more about the struggles I will have running than anything else).
And yet...
Today starts the official training time period for the Cherry Blossom Run. Running out of motivation is not permitted. I have to trudge forward. Mind over body? I'm not convincing myself.
On days like this I am thankful I have someone else pulling me along.
Time: 22 minutes
Place: Paved Park
Weather: Colder than cold!
Distance: 2.0 miles
Feeling: My thighs are frozen!
Overall grade: C
Sunday, January 18, 2009
My Virginal Snow Run
My Running Rules:
I ran in the snow the other day. I once had looked at the prospect of running in the snow so romantically. Many runners had suggested what a beautiful experience it was as your mind slipped into a beauty that often passes unnoticed--the lightness of the flakes weighing on branches, the twinkling of the lights reflecting off the white ground, the thrill of catching the flakes on eyelids, and the surprise that the cold isn't as bitter as the day before.
There was no romanticism in my run. In fact, I rolled my ankle. Perhaps, again, it was mind over matter as my mind was never quite in it as initially I was breaking my first four rules just by going. Instead, this run reminded me that habits and mindsets are hard to reset. With the pain in my ankle and the worries that it might affect me later in the week, I kept rule five and walked.
As Steph and Marita ran another lap, I sat in the car.
I was close to tears, waiting... It hurt to feel defeated.
Time: 26 minutes (on Monday, 1/19)
Place: The Hilly Quarry
Weather: Snowy
Distance: 2.0 miles
Feeling: I thought it might be better than this...
Overall grade: D
- Never run when the hair in your nostrils will freeze.
- Never run when any form of precipitation is falling from the sky.
- If you have to run during the winter, never run if the streets aren't plowed.
- Avoid hills and running in the dark.
- If you feel like you might pass out, stop.
I ran in the snow the other day. I once had looked at the prospect of running in the snow so romantically. Many runners had suggested what a beautiful experience it was as your mind slipped into a beauty that often passes unnoticed--the lightness of the flakes weighing on branches, the twinkling of the lights reflecting off the white ground, the thrill of catching the flakes on eyelids, and the surprise that the cold isn't as bitter as the day before.
There was no romanticism in my run. In fact, I rolled my ankle. Perhaps, again, it was mind over matter as my mind was never quite in it as initially I was breaking my first four rules just by going. Instead, this run reminded me that habits and mindsets are hard to reset. With the pain in my ankle and the worries that it might affect me later in the week, I kept rule five and walked.
As Steph and Marita ran another lap, I sat in the car.
I was close to tears, waiting... It hurt to feel defeated.
Time: 26 minutes (on Monday, 1/19)
Place: The Hilly Quarry
Weather: Snowy
Distance: 2.0 miles
Feeling: I thought it might be better than this...
Overall grade: D
Thursday, January 15, 2009
I wonder
Why do people run when it is so cold it feels like the air is cutting hairline scrapes into their lungs as they breathe and making their nose hairs freeze?
Time: 48 minutes
Place: Pikestown
Weather: Cold, cold cold!!
Distance: 4.1 miles
Feeling: Brrrrrrrrrrr!
Overall grade: B
Time: 48 minutes
Place: Pikestown
Weather: Cold, cold cold!!
Distance: 4.1 miles
Feeling: Brrrrrrrrrrr!
Overall grade: B
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The Things We Do
There are some things in life that just shouldn't happen... things that literally stop the passage of time. Days push themselves by dauntingly, but somehow the experience seemingly remains frozen. For those of us who are left standing as witnesses not actually experiencing the event, we ponder, hope, talk all in an effort to help navigate the freeze.
As witnesses, we long to help and support their broken hearts. So we listen... we call even though we know it's going to be a difficult, strange, awkward conversation... we imagine what it would be like to be them and, on a particularly weak days, we shed a cold, thankful tear that we're not they... we send notes in the mail... we go to outings for the sole purpose of being by their sides... we remember the dates and send text messages just so they know they are not alone... we pop into their lives with the opposite energy as they have at the moment... we give small offerings of bound written words... we take part in things they enjoy... we pray.
Watching them heal themselves from the deepest of pains never gets easier for the witnesses. Sometimes it might even become frustrating or saddening that our feeble attempts are so limited. We know, though, that it bears only a fraction of the pain of struggle for the ones with the frozen event. We remember and we help them to break off the icicles.
Time: 33 minutes
Place: Paved Park
Weather: Cold, cold cold!!
Distance: 2.8 miles
Feeling: Brrrrrrrrrrr!
Overall grade: C
As witnesses, we long to help and support their broken hearts. So we listen... we call even though we know it's going to be a difficult, strange, awkward conversation... we imagine what it would be like to be them and, on a particularly weak days, we shed a cold, thankful tear that we're not they... we send notes in the mail... we go to outings for the sole purpose of being by their sides... we remember the dates and send text messages just so they know they are not alone... we pop into their lives with the opposite energy as they have at the moment... we give small offerings of bound written words... we take part in things they enjoy... we pray.
Watching them heal themselves from the deepest of pains never gets easier for the witnesses. Sometimes it might even become frustrating or saddening that our feeble attempts are so limited. We know, though, that it bears only a fraction of the pain of struggle for the ones with the frozen event. We remember and we help them to break off the icicles.
Time: 33 minutes
Place: Paved Park
Weather: Cold, cold cold!!
Distance: 2.8 miles
Feeling: Brrrrrrrrrrr!
Overall grade: C
Monday, January 12, 2009
Excitement, Inspiration, Motivation!
I was completely excited by the mail today. In it came the envelope that bore one of the many perks of the obsession, sweat, tears, and giggles that I have held for the last ten months--tickets to the Inauguration and two of the official balls. The Presidential Inaugural Committee gave campaign and committee staffers the opportunity to attend the Ceremonies, an official ball, and the Staff Ball. This experience will be the culmination and celebration of the success we had two months ago.I started working for Obama not because I have held a life long devotion for politics, but because he truly inspires me. President Elect Obama has always been my guy. I worked for him for six months, two of which were as a full time volunteer (paling in comparison to the hundreds of individuals who put their lives on hold for the better part of two years). I cherished his words and wondered again about the possibilities of this great nation--would our electorate really vote to be their President an African American man with a funny name who spoke of hope and taking personal investment in the government to create the change they desire? When I first saw Obama rally the crowds in September 2007, he delivered an eloquent speech filled with idealistic promises, keeping people engaged throughout. Like any good community organizer, though, he recognized that he needed to end with more than engagement, but with the impetus to act by inspiring the crowd. He told a story that is now famous, but it was my first time hearing it--"Fired Up! Ready to Go!" The thesis of the story shows that if one voice can change an attitude or the minds in a room, then one voice can also change the world. He ended the story and speech by saying, "OK, New York--Let's go change the world!" I would develop my own 'Obama story' over the next few months, but at that moment, I fell in political love with Barack Obama (as my volunteers liked to say).
I wish this could all transcend into an easy motivator to keep running... It doesn't. The Inauguration is thankfully approaching too quickly for there to be a significant change from my running in my appearance. It keeps me motivated and hopeful in life, though, and that makes me so excited, upon receiving tangible proof that change is coming, I danced around the house, ran around the quarry, and smiled. In fact, I am still smiling.
Time: 42 minutes
Place: The Hilly Quarry
Weather: Kinda Windy, 33 F
Distance: 3.8 miles (2 running; 1.8 run 4 min/walk 1)
Feeling: I hate hills!
Overall grade: C+
Thursday, January 8, 2009
My First Fleet Feet Experience
Runners in my life have long suggested that I drop by the neighborhood Fleet Feet, a store devoted to running where you can test run shoes on a treadmill and purchase all necessary (and unnecessary) gear. The store also hosts groups for runners at all levels, providing an easy way into the running community. I tried to follow their advice, but as it turns out in Manhattan (where I had been living for the last six years), due to an over-saturated market, there are no Fleet Feet stores to be found.
But there is one in Baltimore.
We went to the running group on Thursday, a day that I previously may have deemed too cold to be outside. With the windshield, it felt like it was in the 20s. I could hear my previous self questioning what sane individual actually chooses to exercise outside in this weather. But running ten miles the first weekend in April won't be possible by just wishing and hoping it goes well (I've tried that strategy before) and while my schedule remains unhampered by the responsibilities of employment, I recognize that I should take advantage of it.
At this location, they run/walk in these groups. I took the slower of the two groups--running for two minutes, walking for run. We did this for 4.1 miles. It was surprisingly manageable. I actually finished the run not feeling disappointed, but slightly energized. That feeling may have been a first.
The run/walk concept violates my promise to run all ten miles in the Cherry Blossom. However, it builds a foundation--in distance and perhaps even confidence--to continue.
Time: 51 minutes
Place: Pikesville Neighborhoods
Weather: Kinda Windy, 33 F
Distance: 4.1 miles
Feeling: That wasn't awful!
Overall grade: B
But there is one in Baltimore.
We went to the running group on Thursday, a day that I previously may have deemed too cold to be outside. With the windshield, it felt like it was in the 20s. I could hear my previous self questioning what sane individual actually chooses to exercise outside in this weather. But running ten miles the first weekend in April won't be possible by just wishing and hoping it goes well (I've tried that strategy before) and while my schedule remains unhampered by the responsibilities of employment, I recognize that I should take advantage of it.
At this location, they run/walk in these groups. I took the slower of the two groups--running for two minutes, walking for run. We did this for 4.1 miles. It was surprisingly manageable. I actually finished the run not feeling disappointed, but slightly energized. That feeling may have been a first.
The run/walk concept violates my promise to run all ten miles in the Cherry Blossom. However, it builds a foundation--in distance and perhaps even confidence--to continue.
Time: 51 minutes
Place: Pikesville Neighborhoods
Weather: Kinda Windy, 33 F
Distance: 4.1 miles
Feeling: That wasn't awful!
Overall grade: B
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
The Power of Thought
For the record, I cannot remember once ever claiming to enjoy running… or even to like it. I like the experience of a rich decadent Belgian milk chocolate truffles filled with creamy vanilla caramel collapsing in my mouth. I like the smell of a new book that has called me mischievously from the bookshop table to read. I like to hope in the unseen and believe that life will take care of you. These things can simultaneously make my heart race and stop me cold on my path.
But running? Most of the time I only want to stop.
I have been told that this underlying attitude not only shapes my experience, but it also shapes my performance. I admit that I am not one to push myself to feel pain--too winded, too many cramps, too far beyond my comfort zone and I stop running and begin to walk. Apparently, according to those who have run with me, I subconsciously freak myself out, especially with distances. I believe it--a mile always seems like it should be shorter than it is and never flies by fast enough.
Today we ran in conditions that seemed like they were going to break at least two of the rules I have about running--Never run in the cold; never run if some sort of wetness is falling from the air. When we actually got to the small paved park, I was a little overdressed in four layers and there was no rain. It didn't seem like it was going to be as bad as I anticipated in the warm house--a more positive way to begin for certain.
I knew I had to go since it had been a while since I pathetically trounced on my parents' treadmill. Instead of finding an alternate activity, I wanted to run. Those thoughts made the first mile easier, and maybe I thought it was easier, too, because someone was there talking to me, making the eleven minutes go by faster.
During the second mile, especially on the miniscule hill (although really no hill is minor to me), I couldn't keep up. I was left to my own devices and decisions as to if and how I would continue. I read in Runner's World this week that sometimes it helps to keep the brain active by counting steps or saying a mantra. I got to 230 before I lost count, then repeated "Yes We Can" (a leftover mantra from my last job!) over and over. I was panting short breaths. My cramps were creeping into my abdomen. My throat was dry and my arms were tingling with fatigue. I was hot on top but had cold thighs. Could shin splints be far away? Might I be close to passing out?
It wasn't pretty, but it was progress. I didn't stop at all until I knew I hit two miles. My current thought--it's going to take a while for me to actually feel good about my performance running, but I also realize I have to keep going.
Today's Run:
Time: 22 minutes
Place: The Paved Park
Weather: Threatening to rain; 37 F
Distance: 2 miles
Feeling: Someday I'll be better
Overall grade: C-
But running? Most of the time I only want to stop.
I have been told that this underlying attitude not only shapes my experience, but it also shapes my performance. I admit that I am not one to push myself to feel pain--too winded, too many cramps, too far beyond my comfort zone and I stop running and begin to walk. Apparently, according to those who have run with me, I subconsciously freak myself out, especially with distances. I believe it--a mile always seems like it should be shorter than it is and never flies by fast enough.
Today we ran in conditions that seemed like they were going to break at least two of the rules I have about running--Never run in the cold; never run if some sort of wetness is falling from the air. When we actually got to the small paved park, I was a little overdressed in four layers and there was no rain. It didn't seem like it was going to be as bad as I anticipated in the warm house--a more positive way to begin for certain.
I knew I had to go since it had been a while since I pathetically trounced on my parents' treadmill. Instead of finding an alternate activity, I wanted to run. Those thoughts made the first mile easier, and maybe I thought it was easier, too, because someone was there talking to me, making the eleven minutes go by faster.
During the second mile, especially on the miniscule hill (although really no hill is minor to me), I couldn't keep up. I was left to my own devices and decisions as to if and how I would continue. I read in Runner's World this week that sometimes it helps to keep the brain active by counting steps or saying a mantra. I got to 230 before I lost count, then repeated "Yes We Can" (a leftover mantra from my last job!) over and over. I was panting short breaths. My cramps were creeping into my abdomen. My throat was dry and my arms were tingling with fatigue. I was hot on top but had cold thighs. Could shin splints be far away? Might I be close to passing out?
It wasn't pretty, but it was progress. I didn't stop at all until I knew I hit two miles. My current thought--it's going to take a while for me to actually feel good about my performance running, but I also realize I have to keep going.
Today's Run:
Time: 22 minutes
Place: The Paved Park
Weather: Threatening to rain; 37 F
Distance: 2 miles
Feeling: Someday I'll be better
Overall grade: C-
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