Summer, We Hardly Knew Ya

-

If you happen to follow folks from California on social media, then you know our Labor Day weekend hasn’t gone as anyone intended due to a massive, killer heatwave and series of wildfires punctuating this holiday with exclamation points for all the wrong reasons. 

 

My official start began Friday morning with an early beach run at low tide as the sun turned up to make it safe for solo runners like me. Just me and the piping plovers and seagulls for the first mile. And just 75 degrees at 7 a.m., which is warm for here but still way doable for morning exercisers.

 

A day later, temps soared and forests roared, generating evacuations, energy “flex alerts” and poor air quality warnings every hour.  We also woke to find our fridge wasn’t working, which just seemed so on theme for this year given I splurged at Trader Joe’s the day prior. Of course, the refrigeration replacement part won’t arrive until the middle of next week. But we do have a functioning air conditioner, and for that I am highly grateful. Weekends where it’s 103 degrees by 10 a.m. remind me why I could never cut it in Arizona.

 

Even working out in my garage as 6 a.m. proved difficult, as sweat soaked through my shirt and shorts and ran into my eyes soon as the 5-minute warmup was done. But I survived the BodyPump session with just a mild case of the shakes. And, like hot yoga, the warm air allowed me to move lower into squats and stick with five minutes of unrelenting shoulder presses. This, I believe, was far better use of my time then finally clearing out boxes, bins and spider nests that keep proliferating. 

 

We briefly went to our newly reopened community pool until residents showed up en masse and unmasked. So we instead stayed indoors watching Eco-Challenge: Fiji (we were pleased with the results). Tomorrow we’ll drive down to Coronado and see if we can take the heat on a beach known for kinder waves and social distancing. 

 

Even though I did a major purge back in the spring under quarantine, the pantry and closets, like the garage, are again in need of serious thinning. Where did all this stuff come from? The vegetable garden is being traded out for lower maintenance succulents, so I took time today to clean up the gardens that I swore to tend all summer and never did. I also never made more homemade ice cream and delicious yeast rolls from scratch as promised. All those books I vowed to get through remain in an even taller pile by my nightstand. And my running roster of Netflix, Hulu and Prime shows to watch keeps growing, not shortening.

 

What happened? Weren’t we all supposed to be less busy, more focused on domestic life and resurrecting hobbies? Weren’t we supposed to embrace simplicity and be over our FOMO at removing planned events from our calendars? Weren’t we supposed to be enjoying a summer harvest alongside amazing sourdough breads? And while I’m talking food, please settle an argument between me and my husband: Can you really refreeze soft cheeses or eat lettuce left at room temperature for days???

 

I don’t know what happened to all the scaled-back or replacement plans when traveling was dangerous and we became collateral of a work-school-home mega merger done behind our backs. I don’t even know what happened to the chips I bought the other week and desperately crave. Oh wait, I do know what happened.  2020, that’s what. I’d raise a frosty glass to the end of a crazy, cruel summer, but I can’t. Least not until someone else goes to the convenience store for another 20-pound bag of ice. 


Photo from Friday's run in Del Mar shows a recent rock slide that is a great visual for how this weekend fell apart on some of us.

Popular posts from this blog

I Leave You With This

-
Image
There's this social media post some guy put up on Instagram. I almost scrolled past it, but I'm glad I didn't. It asked what question we should ask ourselves when we die. In retrospect, ChatGPT's response was basically pulling from Eastern philosophy, but, still, I couldn't stop thinking about it in the hours and days since I first heard it. Here's a partial transcript I cribbed using -- what else? -- AI. Some guy set up the prompt, which was long and convoluted. The following picks it up from there.  Some guy : I'm assuming most people would ask, 'Where am I going? What's next?' Something like that. Is that a good question?  ChatGPT : No, because they don't matter. Some guy : W hy don't they matter?  ChatGPT : If there's a heaven or hell or some next phase, you're likely already heading there. Asking won't change your destination. It's a wasted question.  Some guy : That's a good point. Um, what about 'Did I do en...
Read more

What's Your Slavery Footprint?

-
I just came across an app that immediately intrigued me because it brings awareness to something way too often overlooked in this country. It's called The Slavery Footprint , and I found out about it this morning courtesy of this post . Living in California, and traveling regularly through the Central Valley where a bulk of everyone's U.S.-bred fruits and nuts are produced, I became keenly aware of how poorly farmhands are treated in this country. I even blogged about it several years ago . Some of us tend to feel morally superior because of the foods and lifestyle choices we make. After taking this "test," perhaps that piety will recede a bit. After you take it, you can share your score if you wish. Personally, I'm embarrassed by mine.
Read more

Do Mom and Dad Make You Run?

-
I know of a lot of middle-aged running friends who are motivated by their parents to run. Their mother or father was in poor health for many years and it ultimately cost them their lives (or at least a higher quality of it), and so one reason they initially put on a pair of running shoes was to avoid the same fate. However, that's not the sort of parental connection outlined in a provacative post about the link between exercise and genetics in this morning's Daily Beast. It reflects a couple of scientific studies that show we may be genetically encoded to favor workouts. That means some of us will never enjoy exercising like others, nor will our children. If this is true, then those of us modeling good behaviors by eating well and exercising in moderation may merely be passing along the endorphin baton to those with our "exercise gene." And that might also explain why some parents who push their kids into sports end up disappointed that their child never "takes...
Read more