Run DMZ

Every year I pick one word to guide my actions, thoughts, intentions, practices and relationships throughout the year. Lots of us do. I find it is a much better way to remain focused on self-improvement than devising resolutions when you’re rested and hopeful and have yet to resume real work.   Last year’s word eludes me. Whatever it was, I obviously abandoned it quickly in favor of another: Survive. It sounds melodramatic, but in truth every single one of us, whether touched directly by Covid-19 or not, were thrust into survival mode.    We had to elude an unknown and unseen killer and take a harsh look at friends, family and neighbors who reacted in ways we didn’t expect, even as death tolls rose and public health officials implored us to think of others. We had to survive months of quarantine with people whose habits, hygiene, hobbies and humanistic shortcomings we could no longer escape. We had to survive being unable to hold, touch, even see our closest family member...

This fall I became one of the first people to sign up for a brand-new venture that combines my long-time love of writing and renewed interest in meditation. I’d earlier attended a much longer workshop led by one of the co-founders and saw my own work immediately improve.   During one group meditation in mid-November, our guide said something that stuck with me, both then and now. It was about accepting a situation for what it is and, with that acceptance, being released from some of the associated discomfort. In the days prior to that moment, I had been struggling mightily both at home and at work. An uneven work-life integration continued to take its toll on me and those around me.   Are you the same person you were at the beginning of the year? Think hard. If your answer is still yes, then please tell us what you’re taking and if you brought enough for the rest of the class. I mean, seriously. This was a very hard year, no matter if you made a lot of money off it or lost fa...

Today is National Hiking Day. It’s also my husband’s (gulp) 60 th  birthday and the final day of #HokieHike2020 . This was a fundraiser for our alma mater that offered some great swag in exchange for going on a long walk in the woods and then making sure the world knew about it.  Last I looked, I was the only one from California to officially post, but there were several alumni from the West Coast on there. Some of the photos made me miss hiking on the East Coast, the Blue Ridge Mountains in particular. I have a history with those hills , one that brings me back now and then .    A lot of runners also hike, more than hikers who run. Some combine the two and run trails rather than walk them. I’ve cracked too many bones tripping on rocks and roots while running on trails so now I watch my step. It may take me longer, but I’m no longer in a hurry. Not most days.   Saturday was an exception. I had a lot on my plate since I had to postpone my original Hokie Hike due ...

Fall typically comes late to San Diego, if it comes at all. The season is too often marred by furnace-like blasts of brutal heat and scorched earth rather than mottled clouds rolling in to christen thirsty landscapes with wave upon wave of downpours.    Fall was my favorite season as a child raised along the Eastern Seaboard. I looked forward to the drop in humidity and crisp air that signaled a fresh slate for the school year, the end of long hours of summer boredom or busyness. The best days were those that fell under Indian summer—cool at night, hot at the peak of day. Fall was my favorite season as a younger adult too, the nippy mornings heralding a change in routine and wardrobes, the sidewalks and roads littered with calico-colored leaves. Running always improved in the fall, with far more official opportunities to test speed and endurance on a USATF-sanctioned course.   We get a milder, delayed dose of that brand of season here, with deciduous trees lining road med...

There haven’t been many bright spots since March, when half the world was forced to lock down to curb contamination from a deadly virus. But one has been blogging. Journaling in its various forms is making a strong comeback in the wake of a novel coronavirus pandemic. That includes blogs.    The  newest annual survey by Orbit Media  shows a similar uptick. That survey focuses on corporate blogging, but I’d argue that many running blogs are now so enmeshed with sponsored content and affiliate links that they are as commercial as those produced by a brand. And there’s nothing wrong with such promotion if the author is crystal clear about those business relationships and provides valuable content.    Journaling is also up, as people return to paper or keyboard to express their thoughts, process their issues and document their journey through troubling times.   The evolution of running blogs As someone who’s been reading running blogs since the early 2000s...

Last week I celebrated 20 years covering cybersecurity, the subject that  launched this blog back in 2005 . Even when I was employed full time in another industry, I still wrote regularly about ways to protect ourselves from malicious users trying to compromise our data.    While I was getting a lot of LinkedIn love for a post celebrating my milestone, the Employment Development Department for the State of California was demanding my company pay back taxes for an employee that did not exist. My first thought was that one of our independent contractors misclassified themselves, given the amount they reportedly made from us was $17,500. Our employees (a) make more annually and (b) rarely have their salary totals rounded to such neat numbers.    Then our accountant sent  a front-page New York Times article  and I realized we’d been swept up in a cybercrime in which bad actors made real unemployment claims using our company’s data. The heist screams o...

  Just after my mother passed away, I convinced my dad to join us on a hike at  Smith Rock State Park . The volcano-induced spires could be seen from any vantage point in his neighborhood, and yet the closest he’d come to visiting the natural attraction was a late winter drive-by that I also encouraged shortly before my mother’s fateful cancer diagnosis.   The weather was perfect (I mean, just look at that brilliant blue sky!) as we gingerly made our way down “The Chute” to the river basin and crossed a wooden bridge to the most popular trails. We followed the Crooked River to the left and stopped to look up at the rock climbers. Some clung for life to minuscule crevices at improbable angles, while others dangled helplessly from safety ropes until rescued. We kept my rambunctious nephew in line and turned around at the “Snoopy Rock” since we didn’t want to push Dad’s physical capacity. He loved that trip and went back after we left, with plans to keep hiking through the s...