Run DMZ

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...

Spend any amount of time with me and you know I make frequent trips to the bathroom at home or restrooms in public. Since COVID, I’ve become more squeamish about portable toilets, but if that’s the only option, I’ll hold my nose and not look down. I can’t recall the last time I peed in the wild, but it would have been on a long hike years ago.   Sometimes the urge is real, like after drinking a large, iced tea while running errands. Other times, I’m convinced seeing a Women’s Room generates a Pavlovian response – I really don’t have to go now, but I can easily be convinced otherwise because relief is right there, right now.   I wrote during the early months of the pandemic about the quandary outdoor exercisers faced with so many public restrooms shuttered to help stop the spread of the coronavirus. But since the world’s reopened, something else has happened:  Publicly accessible restrooms have continued to dwindle in numbers .   Here in San Diego, public restrooms w...

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...

In the end, I ended up running about half of the 12k Bay 2 Breakers course. Of the roughly 4 miles we ran, I’d trained for to do just .25 of them. My race entry predated my farewell to  running . And despite landing in a fast corral, I was told there are plenty who choose it to avoid all the naked people and start walking after a very short spurt. In my mind, we’d show up a little before the race start, run at a good clip for a quarter mile and then walk it off.    That didn’t happen.   A long wait while hurling tortillas Parking can be hard to come by in downtown San Francisco. And public transportation can be cumbersome if traveling from another part of the Bay Area, though a ferry will get you within easy reach of starting corrals.  We opted to take a shuttle from a Mill Valley Park ‘n Ride to the start. (“We” being me, my daughter and son-in-law, who are B2B regulars.) Similar shuttles operated from Emeryville in East Bay and Millbrae to the south. This...

Several years ago a friend raved about a recent trip to a cooking school in Tuscany. She and 10 others stayed at this villa where you made and ate chef-instructed meals and took field trips in between. The setting was surreal, she said. The food, divine. Especially since every meal included fine wine. She wanted to go back with friends, so three of us made plans to go the following summer.   Then we didn’t go.   Let’s do this, I told my husband a few years later. He instead suggested we take one of those fancy train rides through the Canadian Rockies to celebrate a milestone anniversary. I looked into it and put down deposits, imagining views of Lake Louise and meals on wheels as the glass-ceiling train car rolled under canopies of aspens.   Then we didn’t go.   Booked a prized cabin in the middle of Sequoia/Kings Canyon National Parks so we could nestle among the ancient redwoods each night and explore beautiful lands each day. And, feeling adventurous, I paid in ad...