A path appears

These are difficult times, particularly for those directly affected by the cruelty and stupidity emanating daily from what should be the People’s House. But, we're all connected, to each other and to nature, in a more profound way than six degrees of separation; thus, everyone is affected as well, sooner or later. America in 2025 is not Nazi Germany in 1933 or People’s Republic of China in 1966 or Argentina in 1976 (not yet, anyway). But, historical parallels and echoes abound. America is not immune. Watching the ongoing coup metastasizing through the body politic, most painfully those parts most vulnerable, from the vantage point of as yet mostly “normal” life, feels almost surreal—though, of course, it’s anything but. One can also now understand better how those historical atrocities could have happened in the midst of “normal” life.

Personally, I‘m ricocheting between trying to maintain some perspective (e.g., by visualizing Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot) and knowing all too well that, in many parts of that dot, there are immense amounts of pain and suffering and death. I also realize that I need to calm down; I need to breathe; I need to heed the advice of many to first take care of oneself. To that end, running through nature has always been my medicine. And, in recent weeks, running has been an especially welcome balm. Another way to take care of oneself is to do it collectively, as part a larger community, to share our anger, our sadness, but also our hope—as we plan and act.

But, after calming down, after taking care of oneself, what can an individual do? What can a community of individuals do? Where is the path ahead, a path that appears, a path for us to get across to the other side?

In running, one sees “a path appears” a lot, e.g., a side trail to the “official” one, in order to get to some scenic point; an alternative trail that’s more direct than the “official” one. Or, in this photo, a path created by walkers and runners where there’s no sidewalk and no real shoulder.

And, of course, any rectilinearly laid out walkway will most likely get rounded off at the corners over time. Someone, that first person, annoyed enough by the unnaturalness of 90-degree turns, will decide to “cut corners.” Others will then follow, or perhaps cut somewhat different corners, until, eventually, a path that most people follow appears: an optimal path thus gets crowdsourced. What is optimal may not be conventionally expected.

Lu Xun in 1921 wrote, "Hope is like a path in the countryside. Originally, there is nothing—but as people walk this way again and again, a path appears." This quote is the source of the title of Nicholas Kristof's book, A Path Appears (2015). Lu Xun's "hope" is based on action, actions that individuals take, which collectively become actions that communities take. Rebecca Solnit similarly described "hope" in her book, Hope in the Dark (2016): “Hope just means another world might be possible, not promise, not guaranteed. Hope calls for action; action is impossible without hope.” So, hope is not something one feels or has; hope is something one does.

Recently, to calm myself down a bit, I joined a "Walk and Talk" with Del. Lorig Charkoudian (District 20, Montgomery Co., Maryland) along Sligo Creek Parkway, Takoma Park, MD. It was my first time. It was fun and I learned a lot. Del. Charkoudian went through a lot of what was going on in the current legislative session in Annapolis, MD. Overall, at the state and local levels, it seems a lot can still be done. So, that's a little bit of calm in the ongoing storm. Also calming was this barred owl (?) in a bamboo grove watching us as we passed by.

Toward the end of the "Walk and Talk," Del. Charkoudian, in describing her own feelings toward recent events, said "eventually, a path will appear." I found out later that she was referring to Myles Horton and Paulo Freire’s book, We Make the Road by Walking. The title of the book comes from a line by Freire in Chapter 1 (Introduction): “I think that even though we need to have some outline, I am sure that we make the road by walking.” For both authors, real liberation is achieved through popular participation. The phrase, “we make the road by walking,” was adapted from a poem by the Spanish poet Antonio Machado in "Proverbios y Cantares" (Proverbs and Songs), which is part of his Campos de Castilla (Fields of Castile). The specific line in the poem is "se hace camino al andar" ("you make the path as you walk”). Pre-existing path not there? Don’t be distressed. Just make your own. Just start by … starting.

On a "Walk and Talk" along Sligo Creek Parkway, Takoma Park, Maryland, Del. Lorig Charkoudian briefed everyone on what was going on in the current legislative session in Annapolis.

Focus on the next step, then the next step. Focus on the here and now. Which is basically what running, especially endurance running, is, i.e., focusing on one foot after another. If one is going in the right direction, there's no need to think much about the goal. Eventually, one will get to the finish line. Recently, I was visiting family in northern California, and, for one of my Sunday long runs, I took the Rocky Ridge Trail eastward towards Rocky Ridge (west of Mt. Diablo). There’s a tall antenna of some sort on top of Rocky Ridge that can be seen from the trail several miles to the west. In this case, the path existed, and I knew I was going in the right direction. One foot after another and, eventually, the antenna came into view right in front of me.

Both Machado’s path and Lu Xun’s path are made by walking. Machado’s path is one’s own unique path through life (“y al volver la vista atrás” (“and on glancing back”) one sees “sino estelas en la mar.” (“just your wake in the sea.”); whereas Lu Xun’s path is one that others follow. But, perhaps in difficult times, when one’s not seeking uniqueness but solutions, some of these unique paths will leave wakes large enough, long-lasting enough, that others will follow; until, eventually, individual wakes build on each other into a wave--a blue wave.

Regarding the ongoing coup in America, how should people respond and act? How do we “appear” a path? What about runners of the world? Unite (?!) Well, sure, of course. But, what’s the path? Given the current environment, a path will have to go through the local. Part of the path is building community, providing mutual aid, planting seeds of resistance and of change. They try to flood the zone and bury us; but they’re finding out that we are like seeds. We float and spread. We settle and sprout. We network and build something different, something better.

I think running will be a part of the solution to get us across to the other side. Running is democratic, as well as insurrectional. There’s a lot that life can learn from running. For runners, there are different paths. One example is Sanctuary Runners (SR) in Ireland, “a solidarity-through-sport initiative which uses running, jogging and walking to bring together asylum seekers, refugees, migrants and all Irish residents.” SR currently has groups only in Ireland but with plans to expand internationally.

Many have said this: Every individual act is important. I like this quote of Dorothy Day: “What good can one person do? What is the sense of our small effort? They cannot see that we must lay one brick at a time, take one step at a time. A pebble cast into a pond causes ripples that spread in all directions. Each one of our thoughts, words and deeds is like that. No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless. There is too much work to do.” And also this more succinct one from Christa Mancias, in responding to “what gives you hope?”: “Everyone is a solution to our problems.” Because real power lies with us the people (1, 2).

These are difficult times. But, in a Dickensian way, these are also hopeful times. As former NOAA Administrator Richard William Spinrad (who resigned as of January 20, 2025) said, what they are doing is like "the bull in a china shop; a lot of broken stuff and a lot of bullshit." The purpose of the ongoing wanton destruction is to seize control. But, it also creates an opportunity for us, an opportunity to build what else the world could be like.

A path will appear; it's up to us.

“Get some food first … and then decide.” (Patapsco Valley 2024 50K race report)

That’s what one of the race officials next to the finish line said to me.

I was just finishing—finally—the first of two 16-mile loops of the Patapsco Valley 50K a few months ago. As I was approaching the finish area, the person monitoring the finish line asked me if I was 50K or 25K (companion race to the 50K). I said 50K but I'm debating whether to not do the second loop and make it a 25K. Then this race official on the side said, don’t go past the finish line yet, go to the aid station, get some food first, see how you feel, and then decide.

Half-dazed, I stopped by the aid station and got some food and drink and went to the adjacent drop-bag canopy. As I ate and drank, I unthinkingly reached for my bag, unzipped it, and started to change into dry socks, shoes, etc. Then, after 20 some minutes of fueling, hydration, and rest, and with some clarity returning to my mind, I reassessed and felt a second loop was at least possible. So, I went back to the guy and said, um, I think I’ll give it a try and see. He said I looked good, and that there’s still an hour before the cutoff to start a second loop. I then made a quick porta-potty stop and headed out to start the second loop, not knowing quite what to expect, hoping to just finish.

Which I did! So, because of this guy’s "get some food first," I was able to finish my first ultrarace ever. Instead of some at-least-I-did-one-loop-and-got-familiar-with-the-course-for-next-time rationalization, I now can say, I fricking did it! I “showed up” for that second loop. Indeed, "whether in running or in non-running, showing up intentionally is the Tao." (And, after this past November 5th, showing up is all the more important.)

Beautiful hand-crafted 50K finishers mug

What happened at the end of that first loop was the main lesson of the race for me. Mind over body? Sure. But, in this race, the lesson is that my mind sometimes underestimates my body.

The Patapsco Valley 50K was more challenging than I’d anticipated. But, I should have known that, given the course winds near and across the Patapsco River within the Patapsco Valley State Park (southwest of Baltimore, MD). The last mile or so of the 16-mile loop, after crossing a small tributary to the Patapsco River and checking in my bib number with a race volunteer there, is pretty much a continuous steep ascent until the grassy expanse next to the softball field of the CCBC (Community College of Baltimore County) Catonsville. At least it felt that way.

Finish time: 8:28:31; moving time: 8:07:40; pace: 15:18/mi; ~20 minutes of fueling, hydration, and rest between the two loops.

It was during this last mile at the end of the first loop, with my legs feeling barely responsive from all the lactic acid buildup and walking most of the way, that I was trying to talk myself into stopping after one loop and just finishing the race as a 25K. Thoughts going through my mind: If I am feeling this way now, what will it feel like in the second loop? If my legs are not feeling normal, wouldn’t parts of the course with side drop-offs be kind of dangerous? What if I lose my balance crossing the Patapsco River, especially the second one with water deep enough to get my shorts wet and a riverbed full of slippery rocks? If I stop and finish the race as a 25K, it wouldn’t be a DNF; I’d have a medal. If I just stop, I could get off my feet and …

It didn’t occur to me—perhaps I didn’t want it to occur to me—that, with rest, the lactic acid should start to be flushed out and the legs should then feel differently. I should have known better. I did know better. After all, I’d written about it. According to Tim Noakes’ Central Governor Model, during the final stages of any race, as much as 65% of the leg muscle fibers are inactive and not contributing to the effort. Similarly, David Goggins, former Navy SEAL and ultra runner, wrote about the “40% rule” in his book, Can't Hurt Me. I don’t know the basis for his rule. But he also refers to a governor in the human mind that makes most people give up when they’ve only used around 40% of their maximum potential--even though they feel like they’ve reached their maximum. Noakes’ 65% is untapped potential; Goggins’ 40% is tapped potential. So, the two are about the same. The question is why some people are better able to overrule their governors and tap into their potential. In the 2024 Barkley Marathons, Jasmin Paris became the first woman to finish the entire course with just 99 seconds left of the 60-hour limit. One has to wonder how much of her untapped potential she was able to access, especially during those final few minutes before the finish line.

I knew intellectually that I had a lot more in me to do the second 16-mile loop. But that knowledge was nowhere to be found during the steep ascent toward the end of the first loop and the start/finish line. I suppose I could have tapped into a bit of that 60-65% potential, if I knew better how. Definitely a work in progress. My post-race recovery was slower than that after marathons (e.g., in walking down the stairs). Both big toenails were none too happy from all those descents on the course. It took seven days to recover enough to do a test run, compared with the usual four days after a marathon.

The irony is that I actually had resigned myself to running the 25K, after being too late to register for the 50K. I figured I’ll run the 25K and get familiar with the course for next time. I registered for the 25K and was #8 on the waiting list for the 50K. Being that far down the list (so I thought), I didn’t expect much. So, it was a pleasant surprise when I finally got back onto the grid and checked my email after I’d completed the BOSS 14-Day Primitive Living Intensive course in southern Utah. For several days prior, the Patapsco 50K folks had been emailing me that I’d been selected for the 50K.

I have long wondered what those five miles beyond a marathon feel like. In recent years, I’ve been thinking more and more about trying an ultrarace to find out. The Patapsco Valley 50K, located only about a 30-40-minute drive away, was a logistically easy ultrarace to try. (And, yes, 50K should be about 31 miles. So, with Patapsco’s two 16-mile loops, the runners got an extra mile for free. 😊)

This being my first ultrarace, I just wanted to finish. So focused was I on finishing that I didn’t even think to take any photos, though I had my cell phone with me. I was also concerned about the two river crossings. I’d run before in wet shoes from rain and puddles. But, I’d never run in shoes that have been completely submerged in water. So, crossing the river was a new experience. It turned out to be not too bad; the shoes drained and dried pretty quickly. It was easy to know when a crossing was coming up by the cries from runners up ahead. The second 16-mile loop was both harder and easier. Harder because I was more tired and because I knew, e.g., oh, here comes that really steep ascent. But it was also easier because I felt more of a sense of progress toward the finish, e.g., oh, this foot bridge means I’m more than halfway there.

The Patapsco Valley 50K was “minimalist.” Maybe intentionally. Maybe because it’s not a huge race (some 200 runners total). In any case, I love it! Because I’m very much a minimalist runner. The bib pickup the day before the race was minimalist. It could just be me, but, after I parked in the designated lot of CCBC, I wandered around the adjacent athletic fields for quite a while, before seeing a couple of people coming from that very lot with their bibs. It turned out the race organizers had set up a couple tables located diagonally and not far from where I’d parked. I totally missed it. The start of the race was minimalist, basically just 10, 9, 8, … go. The race T-shirt and bib were minimalist. The bib had no timing chip, which I guess is not necessary for ultraraces.

But, there was definitely no minimalism from all the staff and volunteers in providing race support! Kudos to all for a great race! The trail markings were very well done. In a goldilocks way. Not too many to disrupt the natural feel of the run, but enough to not get lost within the dense trail network of the Patapsco Valley State Park. Except for a couple places. But, course marshals were strategically placed, and they got me back on track. Parking was plentiful and conveniently located. Fueling and hydration stations were well-situated and -stocked. PB&J on white bread, cut into quarters, was my food of choice. Also, PB pretzel nuggets. I love the finishers mug, quite unique. Every time I use it brings a smile. That vegetarian chili after finishing was sublime. Whoever made it should get a medal!

And, of course, a huge thanks again to that guy who said, “Get some food first …”