Run DMZ

  A pile of plates revealed partially eaten Mickey waffles, two test-bit pancakes, runny scrambled eggs, and rejected berries mistakenly mixed with plain -- not "vernella" -- yogurt. We continued with two eggs benedict, surprisingly good PB&J pizza, and soft-serve ice cream cones that tiny tongues could not outlick. All because Mickey and Minnie were running late. We waited ... and waited ... until none of us could hold in all that food and frustration. Heading back into the sweltering heat, we consoled ourselves. At least Chip and Dale stopped by; otherwise, this expensive character brunch would have been an even bigger bust. I have been a Disney guest on and off for more than 50 years. I went to Disney World  with my grandparents and sister the summer it opened. I returned to run a marathon 32 years later. More consistent has been Disneyland . That first time, I flew with my two young daughters from Alaska. It took three flights and 20 hours, but we arrived in Orange Co...

At 3:06 a.m. today I posted the above photo (of a photo) on my Instagram feed with this caption: You know you've officially grown old together when even your photos are middle-aged. Happy anniversary, boo. #circa1981 #vpi [as Virginia Tech was better known back then]. Didn't see it? That may be because at 3:18 a.m. I took it down. In those 12 minutes listening to someone's deep snores, I considered who might see the post, including friends who've failed at marriage a time or two.  I then spent the remainder of those dark hours trying to recall the details of this day 37 years ago. I remember feeling queasy -- in part because I'd spent an entire night unable to find a sister who'd gone AWOL and then shifted to worry what too much liquor at our afterparty might bode. I also was pregnant, but didn't know it.  Since then, I've wondered why we've succeeded where so many other relationships have not. Some of our friends had no choice; their spouses checked...

  My favorite holiday is 4th of July, where the vibe’s low-key, family is optional, primary colors rule, and day drinking is encouraged. Independence Day is especially big in our former neighborhood, which hosts a run, a ride, a party in the park, and a parade. We return every year, making the 4th as much a reunion as anything. It is surreal to see the kid from three doors down now showing off his pregnant wife and my daughter’s flower girls turning into teenagers. I show off my young grandsons too. Me, the former neighbor with egg-cracking calves that ran for hours every weekend, now unrecognizable with lighter hair and a lumpy midsection.  Everyone asks if I ran the shorter or longer race and, for the second year in a row, I explain I don’t run anymore. This explains a lot, I sense them thinking as they politely drift to the next person with a red cup. Next year, I’m doing the ride – the longer one -- I vow after the seventh sip of my mango mimosa.  The parade is pur...

There’s  a delightful piece on NPR about the joys of riding a bike  – not for personal records or trophies, but just to depressurize and stay healthy. Several years ago, I would have fast-forwarded such a segment, being one of those with feet firmly planted on the ground. Now, I get it.   The first time I experienced the highs and lows of cycling was when I bike-commuted to work. My job at the time was 10 miles from my house at the terminus of a 12-mile-long bike path adjacent to a freeway.  I purchased a hybrid bike I christened Penelope (because she had a pink and black frame). I only commuted in late spring and summer when it was lighter for longer because it wasn’t safe to ride alone on dark evenings. ( Or sometimes early mornings .) It also meant I arrived home around 6:30 p.m. soaked in sweat from riding mostly uphill on fat tires in blistering Carmel Valley heat.   But I loved that period of my life and especially the practicality of the bike. I wasn...

Back when I first launched this blog, I was a guest on 91x’s  Resurrection Sunday , a program then hosted by the late Steve West. Sundays were my long run days, and I spent hours listening to West, including an hour of “Hey Mom, I’m on 91x!” with a guest deejay decidedly not from the industry.   I “auditioned” by first filling out online the 20 songs I’d play, which not coincidentally were Steve West’s favorite songs along with a few rarely played tunes. The legendary disc jockey called, we talked, and I was booked for that weekend’s show. I gave several shoutouts, including to my fellow San Diego Track Club runners then training for the Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon.   At the following Tuesday track workout, one of the run leaders told me he’d listened the entire hour. “You only picked one good song,” he said. “But it was a good one. I’d listen just for that one song.” That song was Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill.”   I’ve loved that song since the first time I heard it...

I do not know the origins of Pip’s name. I’m sure my mother came up with it. It fit her perky personality as a pup and it helped she answered to any variation. Pipperdoodle  when around designer dogs.  Pipperoni  when scavenging food that fell on the floor.  Pippo  when she gained too much weight. And  Pippen , which I always thought was her actual name until I saw her AKC papers.    Notice I’m using the past tense. Pip isn’t here anymore.   For the past week I’ve moved through days in a quiet state of grief. Bawling over an abandoned, half-eaten cheeseburger in her food bowl—her final meal, it turned out. Sobbing when removing her favorite blanket and leftover treats. Sniffling after tossing her medicated shampoos and unused prescriptions and giving another family our scented poop bags and extra-large pee pads.    It didn’t seem right to remove all the void reminders so quickly, like she wasn’t worth mourning. But Tuesday was trash...

A few months ago, while spending a weekend in Oceanside, guests from out of town asked if we could swing by “the Top Gun house” on our drive home. The blue bungalow where the character Charlie (Kelly McGillis) lived had recently relocated to commercial property near the Oceanside Pier. This was an improvement from the last place I’d seen the home on a dirt lot after being rescued from new owners who wanted it torn down. Townspeople rallied to save the structure, citing its historical significance as a place Hollywood made famous. An investor spent $1 million on a much-needed facelift.   That building, now a pie shop, got a lot of attention this past week as everyone readied for the official release of  Top Gun: Maverick , the sequel that originally was to open two years ago. Local news outlets all took turns promoting the pie shop that pays homage to the 36-year-old film. The premiere was held 45 minutes south on the USS Midway along the Embarcadero a few weeks ago. There were...

I’ve been preparing for an upcoming milestone birthday, what I call Anne 6.0. Parts of it are going well, like a new look. Other parts still have a few bugs, like my fitness level. If you read my last post , you already know this.   Since that blog entry, I’ve maintained a regular training schedule, better diet, and even started to bring down my pace per mile for a trail run on my actual birthday. I got others to sign up too. Bought new trail runners . Built up a little distance. I even planned a date night, which we haven’t done in more than a year. I’ve generally been in good spirits. Still am, despite what happened earlier today.   I was 22 minutes into a short, pre-dawn run when I fell downhill. I’d taken precautions – running on an even surface with a flashlight and staying alert, etc. But somehow my ankle rolled without warning, sending the rest of my body into freefall. Man, that road is hard. I scraped my hands, even under nailbeds, yet my head and side of my face...

The current mayor of San Diego campaigned on a pledge to treat the place like a metropolis rather than a network of sprawling suburbs . You think San Francisco, Chicago, Boston and New York, and you immediately think compact blocks with mixed-use buildings, high-rise apartments and stately rowhouses, corner convenience stores, great ethnic restaurants and excellent public transportation.   San Diego has those things too, except the great public transit.    I was reminded of how much San Diego has grown during a recent early morning walk from Little Italy to Seaport Village via The Embarcadero . And again, a week later when we visited  our old suburb with family in town.    I can remember some of my first runs along the Embarcadero, dodging more homeless people than tourists, even during Comic-Con . The Gaslamp Quarter was still the nightspot it is now, but you took greater risks walking beyond its boundaries in the dark.    Cortez Hill, East Vi...

  The adage “Once a runner, always a runner” may eventually prove untrue. But I’ve learned that friendships built around running endure if they are meant to. I think to my current circle of close friends and 90% of them began with us running together. I’m including one that began with a hike, not a run, but it’s the same foundation built from conquering distance, counting steps and breathy-but-not-breezy conversations.   Walking works too, but for me, my personal identity remains tied to running. It’s probably why I’ll commit to walking for the rest of my life, and within weeks pick up the pace despite knowing the higher risk of injury and arthritic wobbles. It’s not a healthy relationship, I admit.    I wasn’t always a social runner. In fact, one of the reasons I took up that form of exercise in my teens was to escape into myself. In my 20s, it was to escape crying babies and a crabby husband. And in my 30s and 40s, it turned competitive. You think when you pass ano...

  The other week I was doing some deep cleaning and came across this race photo. It resurrected lovely memories from one of my most unpleasant finishes. It also reminds me of how much has changed over the years--to both me and marathons.   Note the slant of the sun . This shot was taken in the last miles of the course, with the sun already inching toward the western horizon. The Richmond Marathon used to start at 12:30 p.m. on an October Sunday to allow locals time to go to church before downtown streets closed. This made weather a wildcard. It could be the cool fall day long-distance runners dream of, or it could swampy. I got both, with heat at the start but a cool breeze at the end.    Now almost every marathon starts early morning to accommodate bigger crowds .   Note the bib number . This race had less than 500 marathoners the first time I ran it. You could sign up race day, especially if you ended up not running that much more popular marathon two hours no...

I don’t have many memories from my days at  Deans Mill School , but a big one began like any other day and ended with blood, sweat and so many tears.    A team converted the auditorium into a makeshift clinic to mass inoculate students from diseases already in decline: polio and smallpox. My mother wasn’t so sure about the polio vaccine, given how badly the Eisenhower Administration botched it more than a decade earlier. Prone to provide as little government oversight as possible, a shipment destined for children’s arms was  sent with the virus, not the vaccine . Some recipients died, and others were damaged for life. By the time I was eligible, the Sabin oral vaccine was preferred over the Salk injectable. Small pox eradication, however, still required a bifurcated needle that left quite a scar.   Classes lined up along the main hallway to wait their turn. As we moved closer to the double doors, schoolmates would come out. Some were wailing; some whimpering; al...

This time a year ago I was in another city and without my phone when the school principal called to let us know the campus lost electric power. I was still out, and therefore unaware of the emergency, when the principal called again to ask parents to come get their children. By the time I arrived at a darkened main office lobby, most students had been united with their parents or guardians. My sixth-grader was both relieved and highly annoyed to see me.   Hours earlier, when the electricity shut down, a student with a history of violence took advantage of the initial chaos to chase our then-11-year-old around campus, intending to harm him. Someone in some official capacity intervened before an actual assault.   That was the last time the school held in-class instruction. It currently appears students will return in some capacity next month. And that makes me sad. Not for them—goodness, our children need each other’s company—but for me. I’m not ready to give up the dawnlight ru...

  One of the most popular hikes in San Diego doesn’t involve climbing mountains or crossing rural roads. It’s a walking tour through some of the city’s nicest, most densely populated neighborhoods with seven bridges as focal points.    I first did this 5-mile loop with friends shortly after it was publicized in the San Diego Reader. We liked it so much we came back to Balboa Park about a year later to do it again, and this time I documented our trip with my GoPro (RIP, dear camera companion). It’s been four years since I made that video, so we were overdue when everyone gathered this morning to start the trek.   I MPORTANT: You can start from anywhere since the course is a loop.   However, you are more likely to find free parking if you start and end in Balboa Park.   1.       Park Blvd Bridge No coincidence the hike starts at the bridge spanning Park Blvd. on the east side of Balboa Park. The bridge links gorgeous gardens to lawns ...