Why I March

Yesterday, I went to the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. My first time there, the day before the inauguration of #notmypresident (this is the name I will use to refer to the 45th president) to see what it was like. People were preparing for the early evening concert kick off of the inaugural festivities.

What I saw profoundly saddened me.

There were mostly two kinds of #notmypresident supporters.

The first kind were the kind I wanted to yell at. The ones who, like me, have so much privilege. They were affluent white women and men. They were coiffed and with perfect make-up, beautiful clothing, and expensive sunglasses and boots. Their children had Uggs or were dressed in suits with elephant pins, very Michael Keaton. They had #notmypresident’s merch on their heads, necks, and lapels. They were holding flags boasting of an America that needed to be put right. They didn’t look at me as I didn’t have any outward showing merchandise. And if they did look at me, it was to look me up and down from head to toe and either look away before they got to my face OR they would make a snide comment to their companions, something like, “wow. That’s. . . That’s something.” And if one did look me in the eye, I would smile. An act almost never reciprocated except by much older white men. No, I am not making this up.

The second kind? Rural and blue collar. Rural, blue collar with southern accents. The kind I heard, when asking for the price of the t-shirts and scarves, say they couldn’t afford that. Or that they’d be back. And if they did have #notmypresident merch, it was camouflage. The kind who,when we looked each other in the eye, smiled back at me. The ones, when asked by reporters why the supported #notmypresident said, “because he’s going to bring jobs back.” And, “the media lied about the polls for the election, so I believe you are lying now about his approval ratings.” These were the people that would actually talk to the “other side” and answer questions honestly and with no trace of malice towards the asker about their president.

I also believe these are people that will lose with #notmypresident.

And mostly, there were little to no people of color, except for the people putting up the fences or working the security lines or police officer working for these concert attendees’ safety. Seriously.
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There was an African American man selling #notmypresident T-shirts, from a black garbage bag. I was walking alone and he was alone between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial. As I walked towards him, I smiled, and he smiled back. I decided to get brave, and ask, “Do you support him?” I tried to use a truly curious tone as I was honestly truly curious.

He broke out into an even wider smile, but bowed his head and shrugged his shoulders forward. If I had to apply a word to his action, it would be “sheepish.” He looked sheepish. . . And here’s what he said next.

“Awww, I don’t know, man. I do know he gonna bring jobs back. That I know. All the rest of that politic stuff. . . Man, I don’t know.”

I smiled back at him and said, “thank you for talking to me.”

He smiled back and said, “thank you, ma’am”
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While I was standing at the corner, watching one of what would be many police escorts of black vans and Escalades or Semi trailers pulling concrete barriers, a youngish man with #notmypresident merch told me I could get a deal today. A one day only deal.

“No thank you.”

“It’s a special price, really, I’ll give you a special price.”

“No, I don’t think I’m going to buy any of it.”

“If you buy it, you can burn it.” His realization based, likely, on my tone of voice, one of slightly disguised disgust covered by mirth from such a thought.

“No, but thank you. Really.”

“Just so you know, some of the proceeds go to Breast Cancer research.”

I smile and shake my head a little, thinking he knows his audience, at least. “No, but I appreciate that.”

“You have a good day, ma’am.”

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I went to the American History Museum.

At lunch, I sat across from a young white woman with her laptop open, slouched very low in her seat. The laptop had stickers screaming, “Question Authority” and “Feminist.” If you looked closely, you could see a sticker featuring Hillary Clinton among many other stickers of our today’s youth. But she, herself, looked sad and perhaps a bit nervous. She spent the lunch picking at her food, writing phrases in her book that I am almost certain came from the surrounding #notmypresident supporters. At the end of lunch, I handed her a You Are Beautiful sticker (https://you-are-beautiful.com/) and said, “In solidarity.” It was the first time I saw her smile. I then said, “it’s hard being here today, huh?” She vigorously nodded and then said in a very hushed voice, “are you marching Saturday?” I nodded my head. She smiled again, dipped her head and said, even more quietly, “I’ll see you there.”

And it did feel tenuous at the museum. Strained. There were many families there supporting #notmypresident. Many privileged white kids scoffing at the museum articles. I even heard one very beautiful young girl, while flipping her hair, walking through the civil rights war exhibit, “wow, look at all of these guns. Cool.” Did I mention she didn’t even stop to look at any of the artifacts or read any of the descriptions. And her tone wasn’t sarcasm. Guns are cool. No matter that thousands lost their lives so she could come through this museum free of charge. This may feel judgmental, and it is. I feel sad she doesn’t care. I feel sad no one taught her to care.

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I feel sad I didn’t know to care about politics and history and my country and fellow Americans until now.

I recently watched this video of a young man, much younger than me, rapping about how he’s angry people are angry at him for not caring or being lazy. That it’s unfair that people are angry at him because no one taught him his human rights (I think he even says, “did you know we had that?”). No one taught him how his government actually works. No one taught him how to do his taxes, or what voting meant. And I thought back to my own education.

I grew up in an white middle class mid-western town. I was lucky because it was a college town. A very liberal college town, in a state that usually went blue due to Madison and Milwaukee. I learned how to do my taxes before I graduated, you couldn’t graduate until you knew how to balance a checkbook or do your taxes and for that I am grateful.

But I also remember I had only one civics class. Our teacher was a bullish wrestling coach. And I loved his class. We learned about history through songs like American Pie. But honestly, I don’t feel enough focus on our government process. Though, to be fair, when I was in Forensics, I didn’t do the debate team, I did storytelling. And in my family, back then, I was told, “Voting is a very personal decision, we don’t talk about it.”

And so I didn’t learn. And the first year I voted (which wasn’t the first time I could I am saddened to report), I voted for a Bush. And I did that because the only thing I knew was what was around me. And by that point I was living in a rural community. It was before the internet was really a thing and the people I lived around were Republicans who kept telling me Clinton had ruined our country. I did no research, I read no newspapers, and I only watched coverage of an impeachment that felt more like a circus than government, so of course I voted that way.

Luckily, I started to meet more people. The internet started to be a thing. I read newspapers, had conversations, asked questions, watched proper news reporting. And I voted again.

And I became informed. I voted for and saw the first African American president and equal rights for all to marry the person they want to marry.

In the last year, my best friend became an American citizen, I volunteered and helped set up an office for the democratic party in a depressed area of Pennsylvania and I voted for, who I thought would become the first woman President.

I did those things because I have learned that being informed and involved is how you protect your rights and the rights of others. Despite the fact that many think there aren’t problems in government preventing equality in relation to race, gender, sexual orientation, religion and other marginalized groups, there are. Big problems.

And that is why I will march tomorrow, with my sisters; we will not be ignored.

How many miles? Holy ravioli!

Today is the day before I walk a marathon. . . and I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.  I think if my mom were here, she'd be commiserating with my husband as if I were dressing for a huge event, like Prom.  I'm really crazy when it comes to these types of events and although I'm normally pretty normal, on big event days (like, let's say, company holiday parties, prom, and marathons. .  ), I'm way crazy - like 4 cups of coffee crazy.  And today isn't even the day. . . So I'm going to write to you all with the hope I become less crazy.  And you might want to settle in because this is a long one.

How long is that, you ask?  Um. . . 26.2 miles.

I was trying to remember when I said I'd do the marathon.  I knew it had been captured via email, or I'm sure I would have gotten out of so much exercise.  I went looking for the email, and started laughing out loud from the exchange.  I'm going to re-print the excerpt here because it's cute and gives you a glimpse into how fantastic and supportive Ciara is.  This exchange happened while Ciaracat was away in Europe during July and I was missing her.  We'd been emailing back and forth for about a week on this chain and I was espousing my laziness (and she hers) . . . and then she asked me this. . .(oh, btw - ciaracat is funny and for context - Suz is ciaracat's best friend since childhood - she's also an all around most fantastic woman)

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From ciaracat to me:

You don't want to sign up for the marathon in November do you?? Suz is going to come up and do it. And I'm really nervous. But excited about having a new goal an something to train for.

I love you. And hope

You're not too

Lazy to see me. 

From me to ciaracat:

Ok. . . so. . .committing to a marathon

we're walking, right?

I'll say yes IF we are just walking - but I'm gonna need to seriously get off my ASS!!!!

and I won't be too lazy to see you. . . I promise. 

 (btw - the sun agrees with you)

From ciaracat to me: 

Um YAH we’re walking. Have you EVER known me to even run after a bus???

Crack bird mama!!

That would be amazing.

For the record I have not started my training yet so...!!

From me to ciaracat:

I was just checking. . . I mean. .. dude. . . a marathon is just so (well, what's the word?) . . . so . . .daunting.

but yes, I will do it!  send me links (again) so I can officially be accountable for doing it.

From ciaracat to me:

Honey. It Is huge. And I will NOT think anything if you think it's too much right now. Seriously. I'm shitting my pants for roping Suzanne in to it!! For me there's no Going back!! So!! Don't worry about feeling not ready yet!!

If you want to look up more the info is just at Seattle marathon 2012. Don't have the link handy at the mo. 

Love u!

From me to ciaracat:

No worries, will do some official googling. . .

and it isn't too much in fact, it might be just enough right now.  I need to figure out something to work for!!

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And actually, when I check the dates on these emails, I see that she asked me that EXACTLY four months ago today - HOLY CRAP - only 4 months ago???  How is that possible?  I can't believe I actually trained to be ready for this thing in only FOUR MONTHS????  

How long is that, you ask?  Um. . . 26.2 miles and at the end of this journey I'll have gone more than 100 miles.

I have to say, it's been a most amazing journey. 

I was born with a club foot (it sounds worse than it is) and was actually a Forrest Gump kid, complete with a brace contraption that had a leather belt around the waist, two metal pole like things down each side of my legs and a metal plate between the two shoes.  I think there is only one picture I have with it and I can't say I remember spending a lot of time in it.  At age 5, I had surgery to fix my foot permanently.  I had a wonderful doctor (in 1979!) and he did such a good job you would never know today that I had this "disability."  In fact, I used to run pretty regularly as a kid.  I was on the track team and ran hurdles and relays.  Don't get me wrong, I had my fair share of troubles.  I sprained my foot many times and had several stress fractures (it's my right foot and as such I used it as my lead leg as a hurdler. . . that's a lot of stress).  I did stop running sometime in high school after a particularly bad injury that required a visit to a doctor who said, "you're running?  you shouldn't be walking let alone running."  Of course, I'm paraphrasing what I remember about that day and it probably wasn't that bad. . . but that is how it felt.  The thing I DO remember most about that day at the doctor's was afterwards, my mom and I left the office quietly and on the way to the car she says, "well that calls for a snickers bar"- mom is awesome and knew chocolate would cure all at age 16.  I stopped running after that but don't worry, I have not been a total lazy hack. 

With all of that history, I knew, as did Ciara, I needed a good pair of walking shoes.  We went to Road Runner Sports in Green Lake to get tested.  They take a picture of your gate and also a pressure test of your feet (see, my right foot looks like I don't put any pressure on the ball of that foot).  20 minutes later, I was out the door ready to take on our walking goals.  

Ciara and I started out just walking a couple of miles at a time which didn't seem so bad and we'd done that so much anyway going down to baseball games and concerts in Sodo.  We went around Green Lake a couple of times, but, we decided after the second time, if we had to do any length of time we'd get bored going around in circles and planned city trips from then on.  It was through that kind of thinking that I learned so much about my awesome city!

we were ready to do this thing!

so many people!

It wasn't long after I said I would do the marathon, I did my first 10K (which is officially 6.21 miles in case you need the conversion - I usually do).  I hadn't walked any more than 3.5 or maybe 4 miles at this point and so I was really nervous.  This first race was the Lake Union 10K and I walked it with Trish West - a most amazing woman who had never done this before either!  I have to say, 6 miles seemed SO MUCH LONGER than I had ever walked before.  But it was cool to walk down the middle of highway 99.  There were so many people and I was afraid of being last even though that was silly.  I've included a picture of the 5km mark.  I remember going - OK - half way to go!!!!  Dang, that last half was rough!  But we made it (and we weren't last!).

half way. . . half way to go!

I did it!

After that, it was clear more training was needed (duh!).  We did my first 7 mile walk from Capitol Hill to the U-District on the Burke Gilman trail where we ended with beer, chips and salsa.  This became a theme - beer and food as our reward, cuz, let's be honest, why else do something so crazy without rewarding yourself!  I had never really walked around on the Burke Gilman before and it was beautiful.  They have this sculpture where you can pretend you are a picture and, of course, there are the boats and views of any bridge over the lakes.

Ciara and I did our first 10K together about two weeks after my first and then one week after, we walked 7 miles.  This time the actual length wasn't so bad!  I was nervous though, because I remembered how long that last half of that 10K seemed.  The cool thing about this 10k (it was Seattle Marathon's 10k), was that we went under the highway 99 bridge in downtown Seattle!  So cool.  I cried pretty hard after this one for a couple of reasons.  First, it was really cool to cross the finish line with Ciara (she's inspired me so much and I was so grateful to have her with me), secondly, they had military folks down there giving us ribbons as we crossed the line (how can you not be grateful at that?) and lastly, and really most importantly to me, Mikal came down and cheered us on and drove us home!

Then I went to Turkey and stopped "training" in the traditional sense. . . well, let's be honest, I only trained in so much as I walked every day, but not hard, not fast, and I stopped a lot - to eat, to admire ridiculously awesome sites and to lie on the beach. . . so - for two weeks, I was on intermission. . .

Upon my return, I had signed up for the Lifelong AIDS Alliance walk on Capitol Hill - it was only a 5K and I roped my step-daughter into it.  She was nervous at first, but we ended up having a great time, walking 3.1 miles and giving to a great cause.  Lauren swears next year we'll be the Tummy Wombat Family and get a bunch of people to be a team, dress up all crazy like and have another great time. Who doesn't like walking down the middle of the street, going through red lights, and making traffic wait for you?  

It was now time for the big leagues.  Ciara and I needed to train a little bit harder and a little bit longer.  We signed up for a half marathon in Vancouver, WA called the Girlfriend's Half Marathon and it was only three weeks away.  We started by scheduling every Saturday a walk of some large amount of miles.  We walked to Shilshole marina which was my first 10 mile walk.  The best part was meeting one our friends at Zayda Buddy's in Ballard.  Beer, tator tot casserole and pizza were the rewards.  So amazing. . .

Two weeks later, we were in the half marathon.  To think I hadn't walked 13 miles before and that I would do it that day was a bit daunting.  We didn't talk much (I think it was mostly me. . . ) when we first got there.  There were more women than I had seen in one place, EVER.  Before the race we waited in line with about 1000 (and I am NOT exaggerating) women to go to the bathroom and met a couple of older women we saw later on the course.  They were really sweet and took our picture before we started.  I found it exciting, later that day, to wave and say good luck as we were passing them on the way back.

We also met Betty.  She was our godsend, I think.  She must have been at least 65 (though, who knows these days) and as Ciara and I were cheering ourselves on to get to the Miller Lite at BW3, Betty struck up a conversation with us about what to eat before and after the walks.  She's been on (wait for it) SIX (yes, that is the number 6) marathons!  We walked with her for the next bit in the marathon before we were passed by her (we did stop, to be fair) and then we passed her later on!  She and her friend told us how to train for the marathon.  We learned we shouldn't be walking as fast as we want to during the actual marathon - it's about putting in the miles and getting your body ready for the actual length of time you'll be out there.  We felt so much better after meeting Betty.  I'm not going to lie, the last three miles were excruciating!!  Betty also taught us to change it up a little while we were walking, so now, when  you see me and Suzanne and Ciara walking, we sometimes do this weird dancing thing or we do high knee lifts when it gets tough.  Go ahead, laugh, it works. . . and I'll keep looking like a moron if it keeps me from wanting to die on the course. 

We were never alone on the course because there were so many other women and (as you can see in some of the pictures) everyone was was excited to be in the race and were really supportive of each other.  We would cheer for the runners coming back the other way and for each other when it looked like we were having a rough time.  Complete strangers would clap for us and cheer us on.  I probably cried on the course about 5 times.  It was completely amazing. 

The last 3 miles of the course were pretty rough.  I thought I was getting a blister and, as I mentioned earlier, I never walked 13 miles before, so the end was really really hard.  But we made it and I was so excited I picked Ciara up and twirled her around.  I only asked later if I hurt her (luckily I hadn't!)!  And as we crossed the finish line, there was a receiving line of officers and volunteers handing out water bottles (with water in them, thankfully!!) and medals!  My first official MEDAL!!!  We could not wait to reward ourselves with some beer and chicken wings.  

Unfortunately it was a Sunday which meant lots of people and football. . . service was less than desirable for two really hangry (yes, hangry) peeps that just walked 13 miles and spent more than 1350 calories!  BUT, when the food came, it was SOOOO good.  I don't think Ciara and I talked to each other until after we inhaled food.  The worst part of the trip was actually the ride/drive home.  I am grateful Ciara was driving because it was a THREE HOUR drive and it poured the ENTIRE way home.  Talk about a sucky end to an awesome day.  We did make it home safely and both fell into bed exhausted but so happy about our accomplishment!

The next weekend was 16 miles.  Honestly, Ciara and I were freaking out because 16 miles is SOOOO long and we remembered how hard the last 3 miles were the week before.  But the funny thing about "training" is that. . . well. . . it works. The other thing that we noticed was that it didn't seem so long this time.  For this training session, we walked to and from Alki Beach.  We saw some cool stuff on the way to Alki - there was the skate park under the expressway and the shipping canal. It's amazing that this city has all these crazy walkways to connect different parts of the city.  We crossed to West Seattle and on the Alki side, we saw the beautiful trees and of course, Seattle!

When we got across to West Seattle we kept commenting on how NOT hard it was.  After much discussion, we have a theory (and it's possibly total bunk, but it's our theory and we're sticking to it). When we were in Vancouver, WA, a city neither of us know, it was hard to gauge how far we were and how far we had left.  Here in Seattle, we know the city, and we knew how much longer we had to go and how far we'd been.  It really made it easier. But again, those last three miles really sucked, especially since we decided to come back up through the Pike/Pine corridor and there were people and stop lights.  This dramatically impedes your progress when you are trying to get home.  Our worst mistake for this 16 miles was not choosing a place to drink beer and eat food for afterwards.  The mac and cheese I made for myself just wasn't as satisfying as I wanted it to be.

The following week was only an 8 mile walk.  I believe we were scheduled to go on Saturday, but after much imbibing by both Ciara and myself (independently from each other - we're not always bad influences on one another), we postponed until Sunday. . .we both needed some . . . rest.  But the next day - IT WAS ON!  And man, it seemed like NOTHING compared to what we had done the two weeks prior.  That week, I saw the sculpture park which I had never seen before.  It was beautiful to walk down on the water and across the Amgen bridge and up a Queen Anne trail (though there was much cursing Ciara for this particular path - but we needed to do some hills because the actual marathon has a bunch of them).  I found that after the hill, much to my dismay, I was energized and refreshed.  We were supposed to go up the big Denny Hill on the way home, but I totally bagged out and went to GameWorks to meet my family and have fries and beer.  Ciara is a better woman than I.

Then there was the 20 miles.  The coolest part about this 20 mile walk was that we were doing it with Suzanne - thanks to technology!  We had a three way text going on and were cheering each other on!  It was a bit grey here in Seattle (and 70 degrees for Suzanne in San Fran) and we were expecting some rain.  We had only had a little taste of bad weather during the 16 mile week on the way back from Alki - it freaking hailed on us.  I think there is a picture of it. . . hailed. . . seriously? right?  So, we were hoping we'd get some rain on our 20 mile walk so we would know what it could be like on a really bad day during the marathon.  

not discouraged by the amount of miles!

The walk itself was beautiful.  One of the things Ciara and are continually amazed by is the awesome neighborhoods here in Seattle.  There are awesome parks and houses and you would never know they were even there!  Most of the pictures from this walk day are from Ciara (she's definitely on the ball when it comes to recording our walks and could probably be the source for any walking magazine if they needed pics!).  

we laugh at the rain!

For some reason, neither Ciara nor I were very pleased around the 10 mile mark.  My ankle hurt and I had wrapped it so. . . this was a little discouraging.  Then we got "lost" in Seward Park (aka we took a forest trail rather than going around it on the paved trail).  We discovered having crap kicked up on the backs of your legs sucks more than getting wet - sucks WAY more. . . But we got through it and mostly didn't have any rain until we got to Beacon Hill and then it started to rain a little bit.  Our theory about "knowing where we are going makes the miles seem not so bad" actually held up until we saw that we had 2 miles left and Capital Hill looked . . . so . . . far. . . away. 

Our plan was to have Mikal drive us to The Hurricane where we would eat and drink.  Ciara and I were so tired we barely spoke  (it's tougher when no one is cheering you on) while we shoved food and beer down our throats.  I am not sure either of us tasted it.  We looked pretty funny too. . . talk about two old women trying to get in and out of the car - it was pretty funny.  The 20 miles was too much for my ankle though, but thanks to a great doctor and two cortisone shots later, it is as good as new.

who knew there was the path all the way back to downtown

Seward park is beautiful

we didn't have a membership, so we kept walking

ridiculous, no?

I had never been this far to I-90 except when I drove on it

so pretty!

the rocks hate Ciara

caught in the act!  there is no sitting on this trip!

we could see the city - it just seemed so far away!

ahh

The two weeks after the 20 mile walk felt like 10 minute jaunts.  And we even did four hills!

So - it's less than 12 hours away now and I cannot think of anything else.  Yesterday, Suzanne, Ciara and I went to pick up our packets. . . I have an official number 19063 and a shirt.  I'm very nervous but we have amazing support in our best friends and partners (thank you Tori and Mikal!).

I am about to walk an entire marathon. . . 

How long is that, you ask?  Um. . . 26.2 miles.

yeah -  holy ravioli - see you at the finish line - I'll be the one hugging her two friends and crying.