Contributing Blogger Bonnie Youn
With 2020 being an almost complete wash in terms of in-person racing, the Atlanta Track Club has ramped up its virtual race options. The last one I’d participated in was nearly 3 months ago—the Northside Hospital Atlanta Women’s 5K back on April 11th, which I ran in Pinckneyville Park. I did complete my Virtual Peachtree 10K on July 6th, but I pretty much did that as a regular relaxed jog instead of putting in any real effort. While I haven’t been maintaining my running in terms of speed, I’ve been fairly consistent in putting in some miles anywhere between 1-4x per week, mostly at the Camp Creek Greenway in Lilburn. When ATC announced the 2020 #OneTeamATL 5K, which benefits resources and tools to fight racism and racial inequalities, I decided this was a very worthy cause to commit my running dollars, and I mapped out a section of the Greenway as my race route.
POLITICAL COMMENTARY INTERLUDE
(SKIP AHEAD OF YOU WANT TO JUST READ ABOUT THE RACE)
The backdrop of the year has become increasingly grim. In addition to the pandemic and the rise of anti-Asian racism related to COVID-19, the recent appalling deaths of black lives at the hands of law enforcement has intensified a national reckoning on race. Atlanta has been one of the crucibles of protest activity. Black and Brown lives have always been at the mercy of law enforcement, but in this moment and time, the escalation of national outrage has finally boiled over into possible, tangible change. George Floyd’s cry of “I can’t breathe,” captured in that chilling video, triggered a corresponding outcry of rage, the likes of which I had not seen since the Rodney King riots back in 1992. This tragedy and the resulting protests for justice propelled the media to highlight other wrongful deaths which may not have otherwise been spotlighted—such as the mistaken slaying of Breonna Taylor resulting from a no-knock warrant.
In Georgia, my own backyard, the killing of Ahmaud Arbery and the hideous attempts by the justice system to avoid charging the perpetrators, hit particularly home to me. When I read the details of how ‘Maud was hunted down by white men in Brunswick simply for running while black, it sent deep chills through me—and also clearly struck a chord with our fellow running community. Both Frank and I are close personal friends with someone who could be targeted under similar circumstances. Brian Minor and his wife Beverly are a couple we befriended early in the course of our running journey. Brian is a trucker, transporting goods throughout the South, and he’s often shared with us how he keeps up his training on the road by running in places around rest stops or local streets during his long deliveries. He runs in neighborhoods that may target him for being a strange black man. When I think of Ahmaud, I fear for Brian.
One of the reasons I pursued the law as a career 25 years ago was this amorphous desire to “fight for justice.” It is not amorphous any longer. While I no longer actively practice as an immigration attorney, I assist in organizing events to raise awareness of issues that impact Asian Pacific American (APA) communities. But it is no longer enough to focus only inward. I am encouraged that I see for the first time that there is increasing awareness within APA communities that we are not an island, and that we must break out of our own insular lives, confront our own racist beliefs, and support other minority communities. Black Lives have died to ensure that APAs benefit from their civil rights struggles. Yes, Asian business owners suffered from the looting and damaging of property during the recent riots. But property ultimately is not as important as lives.
This is why, despite the pandemic fears, I joined a protest last month led by #Asians4BlackLives that took place in Duluth. It is the first time in my life that I witnessed first generation Asian immigrant business owners actively participate, handing out water and printing posters in support of the Black community. While I did not tell my parents about attending the protest ahead of time, I posted about it on Facebook. To my quiet astonishment, my father, a Korean man in his 80s, applauded my activities.
We are moving forward—slowly, but forward. Which is a sentence that also aptly describes my 5K race, to which I now return…
BACK TO THE RACE (SORT OF)
Even though Atlanta is going through a heatwave, this morning (Sunday, July 12, 2020), I was fortunate that the temperature started in the high 60s. Yesterday was a scorcher, reaching the low 90s by mid-afternoon. Frank had already run 10 miles at the Silver Comet Trail on Saturday morning, and while I had considered running the 5K yesterday, I was feeling cooped up and wanted to go for a long drive.
Over the week leading to the 4th of July, we had experienced a water pipe break, resulting in no running water for three days. We learned to take rapid showers, flush all the toilets, and wash dishes in 15-minute increments when Frank turned on the flow, and gained a new appreciation for running water. Hence, we watched no fireworks, ate no BBQ, and did nothing even remotely celebratory.
When I was a child growing up, Dad would take the family on these long weekend drives around Manila, which we called “broom brooms” (the Tagalog-accented way of saying “vroom vroom”). I suggested to Frank that we take a broom down to Callaway Gardens, only 1.5 hours south of Atlanta, and he was game. As we pulled into the town of Pine Mountain after our bucolic drive, I was hard-pressed to remember the last time I was there. I vaguely remembered visiting with ex-boyfriends on two prior occasions, maybe 15 years ago, and shared that with Frank with some amusement. Frank had less exciting memories, having stayed at Callaway for chemistry conferences. So it was appropriate that we were now visiting again together, as husband and wife.
It was lovely. The resort, except for their lakeside beach, was not crowded, perhaps because it was a week after the Independence Day holidays. We arrived just around lunch time and enjoyed a delicious outdoor meal of sandwiches at the golf clubhouse, watching players drive and putt their balls into the 9th hole. We then explored the grounds, starting at the Cecil B. Day (of Day’s Inn fame) Butterfly Center, marveling at the vibrant flutter of wings, gorgeous flowers and foliage. Almost everyone we saw wore masks and kept a safe distance. We watched in amazement as one lady gently lifted a butterfly onto her finger, and it remained there lazily fluttering on her yellow-lacquered nails. Butterflies remind us of the beautiful promise of metamorphosis, and how each of us has the potential to transform our lives.
But my favorite activity was a walk through the famous Callaway Brothers Azalea Bowl. In July, we are well past the spring azalea peak, but there were a few Asian evergreen varieties still delicately blooming, and it was refreshingly peaceful walk through the shaded woods. We crossed a bridge over a lake, and the path led to a small chapel with gorgeous stained-glass windows. A wedding had just concluded, so we wandered in…
As we drove back, we felt uplifted. As a bonus, I checked my Garmin and saw with pleasure that I’d exceeded 8000 steps—about the average of a daily run. Approaching Atlanta, I suggested and Frank enthusiastically seconded that we enjoy vegetarian thali plate takeout dinners from Madras Mantra, one of our favorite Indian restaurants in Decatur. Both of us remarked how much we had enjoyed the date and the day, and how fortunate we are to have each other to love during this time.
NOW *REALLY* BACK TO THE RACE
Frank agreed to be my athletic supporter today and document the 5K. For our virtual races, he’s created a faux finish line, complete with a stapled ribbon and a sign, so we could experience the “thrill of victory” as we break the tape. Unlike Frank, I don’t religiously document elevation, heart rate, and pace, because that’s not the goal of my runs. My goals are health and joie the vivre. No records are broken, but I feel alive and meditate.
I am very familiar with the Lilburn Greenway, having run it regularly these past few pandemic months, so I knew I was very capable of finishing without difficulty. It is mostly flat, runs parallel to the train tracks, and traverses a couple of nice boardwalks and bridges. The path is well maintained by the county which clears sediment after it rains. You can occasionally see cute wildlife and smell the green oxygen.
I donned my favorite Trekz Air headphones and set it to The Daily New York Times podcast, and with Frank videotaping the start with a countdown, I took off at around 7:30 am! For those of you familiar with Frank’s blog, he often assesses his start with the phrase, “I took off too fast.” I was no different. It’s exhilarating to feel the rush in the beginning of any race, and even without competitors, and few runners on the trail this early in the morning, it was my fastest pace of the race.
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| I was not the only Bunny on the trail |
The podcast episodes I listened to this morning covered the recent Supreme Court decision on whether Trump can be forced to provide his tax returns under criminal subpoena (he does, but likely he can stall and delay in court so they won’t be revealed prior to the November elections), and the recent and reluctant World Health Organization conclusion that COVID can be transmitted from asymptomatic/pre-symptomatic patients (tragically obtuse and late). Pretty geeky, but this is what fuels me. And oh, a bunny!
Running the first 1.3 mile stretch before the turnaround (right before reaching Lions Club Park), I did feel the exertion on my legs and heartrate, so I knew I was at least pushing myself faster than my regular weekly jogs. As I reached the boardwalk, I was delighted to see Frank up ahead, taking video to capture me mid-race. I stepped up my trot so I could look good on camera as I passed him. He also got a second shot of me crossing a bridge shortly after. I thought to myself, “I have taught him well.”
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| Flashing the V! |
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| Over the Bridge we go... |
With about 2.7 miles past, I was approaching the Greenway arch sign, and I could see Frank again up ahead. He called out, “Getting close to Hammer Time!” and I had breath to respond, “Getting close!” Back when Frank was coaching me in the early days of running, he taught me to always push for a final burst of speed at the end to finish strong. That is hammer time!
To complete the full 3.1 miles, I had to cross Main Street to the Lilburn City Park side and do a quick circle loop around. To my surprise and joy, there was Linda Bode Phinney, Atlanta Track Club stalwart and one of the founders of Tucker Running Club. I’d seen Linda on the trail just a few weeks ago, and we had shared a short walk together to catch up. While I would have loved to stop and chat, I waved and called out to tell her I was running the last leg of my ATC Virtual 5K, and that Frank was up ahead.
As I crunched on the gravel path rounding the loop, I knew I had it in me for a bit of a burst. I saw Frank up ahead, quickly putting together the finish line. I hoped there wouldn’t be any other runners or bikers trying to cross before I got there, so as I crossed Main Street again over the brick crosswalk, I said I would have to put the pedal to the metal for that final stretch….
With the sun on my back and feeling good, I brought down the HAMMER to break the tape!
At the finish of a race, if I really push it, I feel lightheaded and occasionally nauseous. This time, I was not quite at that level, but still puffing hard, I had achieved the strain and glory of a good finish.
I had clicked my Polar Beat stopwatch to begin at least a couple of minutes before my actual start time, and at the end, the length of the recorded distance was at 3.28 miles, so a tad over the 5K. I gave myself an estimated 2-minute reduction cushion, and called it a day—1:03:19, which I uploaded to the ATC website.
CODA
Post-race breakfast rewards are a tradition I was not about to break. Driving back on Lawrenceville Highway, I gave in to the siren call of Hardee’s. Frank was good and ordered the Beyond Burger Biscuit, and I had the Smoked Sausage Egg & Cheese Meal. As we completed our order, the attendant called out the price: $13.11. Frank smiled and said, “Hey, that’s the exact length of a half marathon!” Is this a sign of things to come? I was too busy to divine its deeper meaning, as I scarfed down my self-congratulatory biscuit in the parking lot. Munching on a hashbrown, Frank’s lightbulb came on again and he asked, “Would you like to be the guest blogger today?” “I’d be glad to!” So here is the final product, nearly 5 hours later… I hope y’all enjoyed!
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| $13.11 - is it prophetic? A smile as cheesy as my breakfast |
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