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| Be thankful for the darkness, for without it there can be no dawn |
Almost every day I go for a run. The distance and speed vary depending on many factors, but I like to run outside, year-round. It is a personal habit, some might call it an obsession, that has its origins many years ago. About 10 years ago, running also became a social event for me when I began running with the Early Air Running Club. Every morning, 6 or 8 of us meet at 5:30am in the gym parking lot and run for an hour or so. We talk and laugh, running in pairs or threesomes and exchanging relative positions in the pack and running mates all through the run, talking about anything and everything... then in March 2020, COVID came to Binghamton, bringing with it all of the fear and changes that shook our world in ways we were barely able to comprehend.
On March 15, 2020, any gathering of people became a cause for fear. No one wanted to become infected and no one wanted to pass the virus on to anyone else. This plague that had been a problem for China and Europe, then the West Coast had migrated to this small town much like the Spanish Flu had arrived 100 years earlier. There was little reliable information on the situation. The only certain thing was that no one, not even the "experts" knew what was happening or what was necessary to stay safe. There was no reliable information on how the virus was transmitted, how dangerous it was, and how to manage it. There was plenty of unreliable information and this illustrated the gullibility of the general public. Every day there were new theories, often contradicting the ones from the day before. The recommendations were incongruent. The gyms closed, the schools closed, almost everything closed and our group runs stopped as fear gripped the community.
I could not stop running though. Running is how I handle stress, and there was plenty. Running for me is the bleeder valve that keeps the stress from eating away at my health and mental stability. My morning routine had to change though since the social interaction associated with running stopped. Motivation now came from a different place, it was no longer fueled by the community aspect and getting together with friends. It was fueled by self-preservation. My personal stress level was nearly unbearable at times. My morning runs evolved into a solitary time and I used that quiet, focused space to think and pray. Solitary running was my release.
For six or eight weeks I mostly ran alone, only very occasionally getting together with one other runner and carefully keeping a distance. Running alone meant starting from the house in the often chilly darkness of the early morning hours, warming up alone in my driveway rather than with running partners in the gym parking lot.
There are only occasional streetlamps along our road so my headlamp became a critical part of my gear. Initially, the first mile of my solo runs was a little spooky. The headlamp illuminated what was directly in front of me for a distance of ten feet or so. I could hear animals further in the darkness, mostly deer, moving around. I didn't know much about the neighborhood dog population and hoped that I would not startle one and have a problem.
The route I took was usually the same. I derived some comfort from the routine. Occasionally I would vary the route but mostly I stuck to a fairly well-defined 4.8-5.2 mile loop (depending on whether I went by the high school). The first half-mile of the route begins with a slight uphill grade then drops by about 1,100 feet. Yes, it's a steep hill. This was the worst part. I'm generally not quite warm at the point where the downhill begins. This part of the road is very dark, and it's a struggle to simultaneously keep a decent warmup speed while not tripping and tumbling onto my face. Downhill segments also work different muscles so there were always unusual aches and pains that further distract my attention from avoiding the faceplant. Fortunately, there is rarely any traffic to be concerned with, but the road is narrow and I have to pay attention just in case.
By the end of the first mile, I was generally in a better place. The road gets wider and has a more reliable surface. There is a little more light and elevation changes are more of a series of mild inclines and declines. The outbound leg of the route is mostly in the northern direction. At about the halfway mark, I turn east for a couple of blocks before heading back south.
The turn east at this time of the year is always nice. I run along a large football practice field and generally into the sunrise as it shows its morning color and silhouettes the hills. The transition into the morning is always striking to me. I recall something once said to me about managing hard times, "Be thankful for the darkness of night. Without it, there can be no dawn". The couple of blocks I run toward the dawn reminds me that someday this will be over and, I pray, we will learn to be smarter and safer.
My route includes a stop in the parking lot of a local Catholic church. Churches are closed too and this has been another big change to my personal routine. I have occasionally missed weekend mass, but since March I have not been in a church building and prayed with a community or even played my guitar. This pandemic is coming close to piercing my spiritual armor and this short visit in the church parking lot, under the cross is my last line of defense. Here, I take a moment to recover my breath, express my gratitude for my health, and pray for strength, wisdom, and perseverance.
After the few moments of meditation at the church, I continue my run. At this point, I am faced with the beginning of the uphill climb back home. From the church parking lot, there is a mild uphill climb for about a quarter-mile but then it gets rapidly steeper. I claw my way back up the hill as much as I can. It is frustrating because I always end up walking the last quarter-mile or so of the worst part of the hill. Once it reasonably plateaus, I can return to an easy, recovery pace for the last quarter mile back to the house.
It is different, running in the solitude and darkness. I miss my running community. I know that this will someday be behind us, but I also know we will move through it slowly. COVID has caused everyone to think in longer timeframes than days or weeks. We may be in this for months or even a year. I hope I have the strength to make it to the end.
Author's note: I started this post in the midst of the pandemic of COVID19 and am finishing it as the State of NY "reopens" and the worst seems to be behind us, though it's not over by a long shot (hoping for a vaccine in the spring of 2021). On one hand, it is wonderful to be working on this essay (and hopefully finishing it) on the other side, in September of 2020. On the other hand, I think the anxiety, fear, and utter powerlessness of those days will not come through in this writing because I am not in it now. I am already looking back at it as one might remember a bad dream and, honestly, I am not really motivated to put myself back into that frame of mind so I can write more authentically. It was bad and scary and I hope to never be in a position to write about it from the inside again.
Second note: Now, in October, we are in a second wave of infections. What was a low rate of infections has skyrocketed, mostly due to idiots in bars. My family has had one scare and now we are in the midst of a second. We should hear on my wife's test shortly. Not sure what we'll do if one of us gets infected. Been running alone again until we know. Can't wait for 2020 to end.
