Beth'sVox

Best---woman-runner

As I entered into mile 4 of my training run this morning, I saw the AIG building looming in the distance.  It’s one of the tallest buildings in this part of the Valley and quite impossible to miss.  A shining edifice of marble and glass, it projects skyward like an extended middle finger; a gesture more powerful than any news headline.

Training for the Nike half-marathon has meant more hours out on the road these last few weeks – and that has given me a lot of time to think about the state of things here at home, in our country and around the world.  I am reminded once again that in so many ways, running is a lot like life.  It’s all about personal discipline, hard work, and the expectation of reward upon the completion of a goal.  It’s this last thing that suddenly seems so far out of reach – the brass ring just beyond one’s fingertips.

I grew up during California’s “gilded age.”  The public schools were exceptional and for less than $700 tuition a quarter, I attended and graduated from the University of California.  You could rent a decent apartment then for under $400 a month and in 1981 I ate well on $50.00 a week.  Like a lot of young people at the time, I had my share of partying, of being irresponsible and having fun.  I also worked really hard, got married, obtained a masters degree in business administration from a top 20 private school and progressed through a series of career moves, generating a personal income 3 times the top salary my father ever made.  This is the social contract I, and a lot of other privileged, white, middle class citizens of this country entered into as we moved into adulthood.  It was always understood.  You got an education.  You worked hard.  You saved money.  Your house appreciated.   Your 401K grew.   If an earthquake came and destroyed the economy, it was terrible.  But you knew, you always knew, it would come back - bigger and better than ever before.  And it always did.  And so we believed.

Running distance as I do puts me in close contact with the smallest of details “on the ground.” I know which neighborhoods are doing well and which are not.  And like the frayed cuffs on a well-worn bespoke shirt, things have been unraveling for a long time…we just didn’t want to look at it.  I began noticing it on my runs about two years ago; the houses that really needed a coat of paint, the dried up landscaping.  On my early morning pre-dawn runs, I saw women gathering water from the gutters in plastic containers and people roaming the streets with large plastic bags foraging through garbage cans. The "least of us"  always feel it first.  These are the coal mine canaries.

Today, in my upper-middle class neighborhood, the “bank owned” real estate signs are springing up daily.  Where once I’d run by and see warm light emanating from the bedrooms and kitchens of homes, the windows are dark, the rooms abandoned. 

I’m not going to put forth my opinion on the Fed’s plan to bail out our venerable financial institutions, except to say that berating those institutions for being greedy capitalists is like blaming the wolf for killing your chickens.  It’s just what they are.  How could we not know this?  Or is it only OK as long as we’re part of the pack that gets to tear apart the chicken?

I am not afraid of what is coming next.  In many ways I believe this is one of the most fascinating (if not one of the most unsettling) times to be alive.  And I don’t feel cheated because I have been so fortunate throughout most of my life.  I’m going to keep on running, because that’s what I do.  And if I have to, I guess I’ll do so with everything I own strapped to my back.

I have practice going the distance.  So I just keep running.

More like this at Traxee.com, the site for women runners' lifestyles. 

Amerika

Living in the small coastal town of Williamsburg, Virginia, I owed my sanity to the frequent business trips I made to New York City, just a brief 50-minute flight to the north.  I had moved to Williamsburg in 2001, assuming the position of Director of Marketing for the products division of that company. It was a big job and very challenging, and it put me into contact with a myriad of interesting people in the publishing, design and fashion industries. And so it was that I found myself on an incredibly clear and beautiful morning on September 11th boarding the 7:50 flight to LaGuardia airport – scheduled arrival time, approximately 8:36 AM.

Looking back, I realize how normal everything was. The surly agent barely acknowledged me as I boarded the aircraft, failing to rip off the boarding pass from my ticket.  Owing to her mistake I now possess a complete ticket to LaGuardia airport for the morning of September 11^th, 2001.

The flight was totally normal.  We left about 10 minutes late, and it was crowded with people like myself; half asleep businessmen and women trying to make their meetings in the city.  My meeting was scheduled for 10:30 in mid-town, a much- anticipated breakfast involving the Hearst Special Publications unit.  It had taken a long time to get all the right people in the room.

As we began our approach to LaGuardia, those of us who frequented this flight began to notice that something was amiss.  There were low murmurs throughout the plane.  The pilot came on.  “AHHH, Folks, it looks like LaGuardia is stacked up as usual and we’re gonna have to circle for a coupla minutes.  We’re sorry for the inconvenience and hopefully we’ll have ya down in the city uh, just a few minutes late.”

Now the passengers really began to grumble.  Time is money.  We’re important.  We have important places to go and people to see.  Lots of shifting in the seats.  About 5 minutes later, as we came through our second loop the pilot dropped the plane and then, rather abruptly accelerated and pulled up rapidly.  The man in front of me said out loud to no one in particular, “Now what the hell?”  The pilot again.  “Ah, folks, we are currently unable to contact the tower at La Guardia for landing clearance.  We have however, ah, contacted Philadelphia so it looks like we’re gonna be visiting Philly today.  Those of you making connections for final destinations beyond LaGuardia, please see the agent in the boarding area as we deplane.”  Oh man, now these passengers were pissed.

It was about 9:00 AM by the time the captain flipped off the seatbelt sign and we docked in Philly.  The grumbler in front of me angrily flipped open his cell phone to call his assistant.  Everyone was scrambling for their possessions stored in the overhead bins, pushing and shoving as is customary with important people who have places to go and people to see.

And then it came.

The grumbler repeated loudly into the plane the unimaginable things his assistant was trying to tell him.  This is what he said: “The United States is under attack.  They’ve attacked New York and a plane has hit the World Trade Center.  They don’t know?  It could be nuclear.  They don’t know? OK, right, OK.”  He flipped the phone closed.

Those of us around him pounced – “What is it?  What has happened?”  The grumbler now looked dazed and extremely nervous.  “They don’t know.  She said New York is under attack.  A plane hit the Tower.”

I remember having one clear, pure and simple thought: “Nothing is ever going to be the same again.” 

We pushed and shoved our ways out of the plane and into the Philadelphia airport that was, at this point, in a state of total chaos.

Now, I won’t bore you with all the details of how, later that day, I ended up three blocks away from the Pentagon building (which at that point was belching plumes of white smoke), or how I ultimately made it back to my cozy little apartment in Williamsburg Virginia by 5:00 PM that evening.

What I do want to tell you is this – and it’s something about that day that I never really thought about until early this morning, while I was running in the dark.  For about 25 minutes on September 11^th, 7 years ago, the entire world had changed and me, and about 125 other souls, were lost in time, up in the blue, unaware, untouched, while everything on the ground would never again be the same. 

I have marked this day, every day for the past 7 years in the same way.  I run in the dark and think about that broken, shattered, incredibly beautiful east coast fall morning.  I think about the live images (as yet unedited) of people jumping from the Towers to their certain deaths.  I wonder what making that choice was like for them.  I think about the women and their children sitting in their homes up on Long Island, staring at the television – unable to look away while knowing that their husbands would never again open the front door after an evening’s commute on the LIR.

7 years ago to the day, we became a nation of fear – wholly changed from what we were just a day before.  In many ways, what has happened (and is likely to continue to happen) in our country is more fearful to me than the terrorist’s bomb or tainted envelope.  This way is slower.  And like a child, I sometimes wish that I could just close my eyes and be back up in that plane. Before I KNEW. When we were still the greatest and most respected nation on Earth. But I can’t.  This isn’t the Twilight Zone.  You and I are still here with our memories. And even though we fill our days with all the busy-ness of life, when we look into each other’s eyes we all collectively KNOW.

Let us all be brave again. Only this time, let’s make the change of our own free will and become, with our hearts full, the nation we once were.

more like this at traxee.com

I had originally planned a very different post for this evening, but then my feed reader pulled in an extraordinary post from a blog authored by a young woman named Alissa.  Her post deals with the very real and weighty issues surrounding the choice of motherhood.  I’ve decided to change my plan and share her post (and my post on her site – below) with you.

Alissa:

Rarely has a post touched me the way your Working, Running and Choosing to be Childless. Responsible or Selfish? has.  I feel compelled to respond.

First. Let me explain who I am.  I am a woman who is closing in on 50.  I have and continue to have a fulfilling career as a marketing consultant - on my own now after many years of working in senior management positions in large corporate environments.  I make a very good income and support our household.  I have been a runner for nearly 15 years. In June I co-founded and now moderate a website called Traxee.com which is a lifestyle-focused site for women runners.  I have been married for 24 years to the same man.  I have no children, out of choice.

I always knew that I did not want to have children of my own, and I married a man who felt the same way. It’s not that we don’t enjoy children; it’s just that we always knew that parenthood would not fit our lifestyle – that we wanted other things from our lives, individually and together.  I very much enjoy my nieces and nephews, but I am also glad when their visits are over and I can return to my adult-focused life.

I have many, many women friends – both older and younger than myself  - who have also made the decision not to have children for a variety of reasons.  The reasons are as varied as the women/couples themselves.

The concept that it is “selfish” for a woman not to have children stems from a very old culturally ingrained belief that a woman’s body is owned, not by herself, but by society; her fertility, a guarantee of the continuation of her “clan” or class.  History is rife with stories of women being maligned, mistreated and even put to death for being barren, infertile, or worse, incapable of producing sons.  Western society has long perpetrated the myth that women are essentially “unfulfilled” as women unless they have produced children.  Freudian psychology reinterpreted this belief and ingrained it in our scientific mythology many decades ago.  It is for this reason that women who choose not to have children are sometimes viewed as social pariahs.  We don’t fit the mold; we make some people very uncomfortable.

You don’t mention how old you are, but from your picture, I suspect you are in your late 20s or early 30s – probably too young to remember the extraordinary changes that took place in the late 60s and 70s in terms of women’s position in society.  These changes included for example, equal consideration for admission to educational institutions, equal pay for the same work, equal legal treatment in marriage and finance, and importantly for us women runners – the passing and implementation of Title IX which mandated that girls’ sports be supported equally in public schools.  These changes opened and expanded women’s worlds and most importantly, gave us the joys and difficulties of choice.  Without these changes we would have few women doctors and lawyers, business owners, engineers, or politicians.

The decision to have children is one of those choices, but it is a very personal one.  Also, it is a decision that should not be entered into lightly or without complete commitment.  My husband is a family therapist and I can’t tell you the levels of heartache that can be created when two people reproduce for the wrong reasons.  In these situations, it is usually the children that become the casualties.  Our prisons, mental institutions and streets are full of these children, rich and poor, white and of color, born to people who were children themselves, not ready, either emotionally or physically or both.

In terms of “having it all,” it may surprise you, but I truly believe that this is yet another cultural myth created by the media to attempt to force women into a new, insidious box, this one called “superwoman.”  It is a cleverly crafted box that typically envelops women in a never-ending cycle of guilt and exhaustion.  My belief, bottom line is this: if you decide to have children, the children ALWAYS come first.  That is simply the nature of the decision.  That is the real nature of “family values.”   When you understand this, the “balancing” becomes easy, because there is no “balance.” 

I encourage you to tune out society’s “noise” and look into your own heart with your partner.  IS this the time?  Are you both ready to make the commitment? Are you ready to give up your run on a beautiful Sunday fall morning because your partner has to work and can’t watch the baby? Are you willing to shrug and walk away from a job you thought you loved after being passed up as a “mommy-tracker?”  If you answer “no,” or “not yet,” then you’re not ready.

As for outside criticism?  Your compass must come from within. You must learn to tune out the vapid murmur of popular culture, including men who will never face this type of decision, (but always seem to have an opinion on it), and female politicians who benefited in their own lives from choice, but would deny their sisters the right to make those same choices for themselves. These last are the most dangerous of all.

Alissa, no woman really denies herself children because she doesn’t want to give up something she loves. Children benefit from happy, healthy, fit mothers.  Period.  It’s just that when you have children, your life changes in inexorable (and wonderful) ways and the decisions are not as easy.

I encourage you to reach out to other women who are facing decisions similar to your own, either on the Internet or elsewhere. You are not alone.

more like this at traxee.com.

Beach Bum

OK, I get it.  Any woman runner, (or female athlete in any sport) knows the amazing effects working out regularly has on her body. I doubt that there are many among us who, (even if it's buried down deep somewhere), can't honestly admit that she participates in sport at some level to stay in great shape and be attractive.  But COME ON!

So, I get home today and open up the August issue of Direct Access, which is the guide for the Dish Network satellite system.  I am really excited, because this issue's cover boasts schedules for the Olympic Games.  Cool!  Olympics in HD!  I leaf through. OK...no stories or images on women's track and field.  Dissapointed, I keep looking.  And what do I find?

Oh, there are some pieces about the female athletes all right.  The first is a glamour spread featuring swimmer Natalie Coughlin - the "Super Model Beauty" scantily clad in a designer gown. I quote: "Supermodel-level beauty is not a requirement of world-record-holding sprint swimmers, but in Coughlin's case, those high cheekbones and piercing blue-gray eyes are just a DNA bonus..."

But wait...there IS more coverage of the women athletes in Direct Access.  I have included a sample of one of the images from this article attached to this post (in case you're wondering where the hell THAT came from.)  And the story?  Here it is:

The Headline:

"Eye Candy- There Are Certain Olympic Events You Simply Don't Want to Miss - Whether A Gold Medal is On The Line Or Not"

An Excerpt:

Women's Swimming
"The weather's hot, so we'll be by the pool.  And because Natalie Coughlin can't always be in the water, we're hoping Amanda Beard, cover girl of Sega's Bejiing 2008: The Official Video Game of the Olympic Games, and Dara Torres - the first jock to pose for the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue-will be there too.  If there's a sexier set of athletes in the world, show us.  Please."

OK.  So in ancient Greece it was all about the boys.  Looks like a minor gender change is all that's changed since 776 BC.

And in case you're wondering, Direct Access does have a small mention of men's track and field, highlighting the extraordinary distance runner Bernard Lagat. Mmmm - nice cheekbones Bernie.

Flying angel cloud

Last winter I told you about a woman who lives on a street near my home.  I see her often when I drive by.  Everything she has  - all her precious posessions - are in her shopping cart , and she reclines or sleeps on a bus bench or curb in front of a local greasy spoon.

Just before Christmas while running,  last year I came upon her for the first time while on foot.  It  was cold out and I remembered that I had just refilled my shoe pocket with some cash.  As I ran past her I heard my internal voice: "Yes, or no?"  "She's probably an alcoholic and she'll just spend the money on booze."  "She's probably chosen this lifestyle and really would prefer to be left alone."  "She probably earns more than I do panhandling on the street...why doesn't she clean up and get a job?"  Are these voices famiiar to you?

It was Christmas. A time of year when miraculously, we all "get charity" in our hearts.  

I stopped and pulled out a five dollar bill, ran back and handed it to her.  "Merry Christmas," I said.  "God bless you."

She looked up at me and said "Oh - a flying angel!  You scared me!"

It's been more than 6 months now, but I saw her again this week as I ran that same route.  This time I did not hesitate.  I pulled out the one dollar bills remaining in my shoe pocket and handed them to her as I passed.

"Oh, my angel - I knew some day you'd come back!"  I held her hand for a moment and squeezed, sending all the love and kindness I could through my embrace.  You are a human being, I thought - you are a human being just like me.  There but for the grace of God go I.

I am not what you would call a religious person.  But there is one thing I know.  We are all one humanity.  We build up defenses and fears of each other - indeed we are encouraged to do so by our institutions.  Yes, some of those fears are real--there are a lot of maniacs out there - products of a dysfunctional society that grows mental illness and societal alienation like a fungus.  But fundamentally, we are all one.  When we cease to feel each other's pain and continue to identify with our own, we can no longer truly be called human...we become nothing but a bunch of scared animals.

Here's my dream.  I want to start a group called The Flying Angels...a group of runners who do charity runs  for the homeless of Los Angeles.  I have no idea how to start such a thing, but I know that I have to do it.  If you know anyone that can help me, please contact me through Traxee.

Maybe it's not possible for an angel to fly too close to the ground.

This is so easy for me.

There's only one thing that ever makes me question a friendship and that is a betrayal of trust.  I am not talking about stealing your boyfriend kind of trust.  I mean emotional trust.  Friends - true friends accept you in the best AND the worst of times.  The things we divulge about ourselves to our friends is personal, private, intimate.  When that information is shared with others in a way that is not impeccable - well then that's a relationship that can't be salvaged in my opinion.

Did anyone else see this article in the Financial Times online?  Reporter Holly Shaw published it a couple of days ago and I picked it up in my Google Alerts.

I don't usually post verbatim articles published elsewhere on the Internet, but I thought this one needed to be shared: 

'Unauthorized' support bra ads spark outrage
Hollie Shaw, Financial Post
Published: Thursday, February 28, 2008

Runningeyes_preview

Three ads that appear to feature battered women but are actually advocating jogging support bras have causing a firestorm of controversy, both in the advertising community and online.

The three ads by DDB Toronto appeared in an online advertising Web site on Feb. 22 but the company in question, Markham, Ont.-based athletic store Running Free, says it never authorized the ads. They depict three close-up photographs of young women - one with a bloody nose, one with black eyes and one with a cut lip and a missing tooth - with the tag line "Support bras now available" beside the logo for Running Free.

The co-owner of Running Free, Nick Capra, says DDB approached him with an offer of "pro bono" work, which is often taken on by agencies with an eye to pushing the creative envelope and submitting the results to various industry awards. But Mr. Capra said he never gave approval for the "tasteless and offensive" ads, and said DDB was not authorized to use Running Free's logo in association with the "fictitious" ads. "As co-owner of Running Free I am embarrassed and ashamed to have our company associated with this pathetic excuse for marketing," he said in a statement on the company's Web site. "I apologize on behalf of the whole crew here at Running Free for the anger and frustration created by those images."

After DDB forwarded the ads to AdsOfTheWorld.com, an online advertising community, it sparked an online outcry.

"The fact that this "entertaining" image of women not only running with their boobs flying everywhere, but also smacking them in the face, has morphed into a picture of violence is really unsettling," wrote Vanessa Valienti, editor of Web blog Feministing. "And more plainly, any joke with a picture of a woman's bruised face like this is just not funny."

The ads were also posted on sites such as Advertolog, Coloribus and Trendhunter.

Prominent industry executives have also decried the work. Ania Lindenbergs, general manager and executive vice-president of Allard Johnson in Toronto, said the incident "typifies how easy it is for people who are so close to the ‘craft' can lose sight of the difference between what is smart and unique and what is simply crude, vulgar and gratuitous.

"The world is filled with images of individuals of both genders being brutalized, so we don't need anymore of that ... Perhaps it is time for a course correction in our industry. We cannot accept this from our peers. We must all make a point of actively speaking out against this kind of work."

David Leonard, president of DDB Canada's Toronto office, acknowledged the images "have caused a lot of talk due to the dark nature of the images they used," in a statement.

"While the campaign was trying to be impactful and make light of the need for a support bra, it was not intended to upset anyone, or to trivialize battered women by depicting young female athletes with back eyes and battered faces. On behalf of my agency, I sincerely regret people found it in bad taste and apologize to everyone we may have offended with these ads."

Mr. Capra signed a form giving approval to the ads and displayed them in his store, Mr. Leonard added.

Jeremy Robertson, manager of Running Free, said that is simply untrue.

"We certainly didn't - you can ask any one of our staff," he said, explaining Mr. Capra gave an interim sign-off to go ahead with proofs but when he saw the work he did not want to use it. "It was made very clear to them that we could not use them." Mr. Capra was not available for comment.

The ad's creators, copywriter Courtney Colomby and art director Alexandra Wells, posted an apology "to everyone we've offended," on the Web site Trendhunter. "We are both avid runners and the ads were intended to make light of the need for support bras. We didn't anticipate they would upset so many people, nor would we ever trivialize the issue of battered women. We sincerely regret using these images in the way that we did."

Reached late Thursday, Mr. Leonard said he had been in touch with Mr. Capra. "We'll chalk it up to a misunderstanding and as far as we're concerned, it's over."

He said DDB asked Ads of the World to remove the images but they had been picked up by other Web sites. "As to where it goes from there it's really out of our control," he said. The work will not be submitted to awards panels, he said.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

OK.  So what do you guys think?  "Make light of the need for sports bras?"  These are WOMEN RUNNERS for pete's sake!  We're being attacked by our own flanks!  Friendly fire! 

It's just so hard for me to believe that Courtney and Alexandra wouldn't know any better...or that they wouldn't have more respect for themselves.

Me?  I forgive our friends at Running Free...for now.  Courtney and Alexandra need therapy.  And the agency that employs them?  They will undoubtedly benefit from all the publicity over this work.  I think the DDB executives should be made to do community service at their local battered women's shelter.  After hearing some of those womens' stories, blackened eyes and broken teeth will no longer simply be in poor taste.