Tag Archives: running

San Francisco Pride 2023

I often get depressed on Pride week-end, when it would seem it’s a big party out there… Which is probably just confirming that I’m an introvert! But this year I had a full week-end:

On Friday I was attending TransMarch, which to me is meaningful and non-commercial. I was late to it but just in time for the march itself, and ended up in front of it where… they used to have the elders in and around the trolley. Except that I realized I’m an elder now, and one of the few still around. Anyway, we were delayed at the start by a group staging a street die-out, and then on Market street waiting for the traffic people to let the cross-streets flow, and I needed to go eat and sleep… A photo of us appeared on sfgate with me very visible in the center of it:

https://www.sfgate.com/local/article/san-francisco-trans-march-2023-18169122.php

So that was fun… Also to see the youth in all stages of gender fluidity, I remember my own youth spent mostly disconnected yet having a tiny desire to be like them, except they weren’t born yet to show me the way!

Then on Saturday morning I ran the SF Pride Run in Golden Gate Park. I had signed up as non-binary, abandoning the competitiveness of my age category, and yet noticing that the F side of the binary had very fast runners in the 60-69 age group, while I might have been leading the M 60-69 age group! I used to place maybe third, or sometimes fourth or fifth, and this was again confirming that many of us may have left during or after the pandemic. I also feel the fragility of this age, that the time will come when I’ll slow down and maybe walk part of the way.

On the way back from the run, riding the N-Judah, I had the unfortunate chance of sitting across a person who, after seeing my Pride Run t-shirt and number, started blabbering their view of what the letters LGBT (notice the old four-letter acronym) meant, and how this was contrary to their christian beliefs. I ignored it, letting myself cry inside and looking away. There was repetition in the recitation, which I have heard before as signs of mental illness (the person recites news bytes from TV, etc.), and I certainly didn’t want to engage and try to educate them! A couple of young women who had also come back from the run whispered words of support as they exited, which helped me smile back at them…

I was thinking about religion… How they condition their followers with their beliefs about other people, and those beliefs never get realigned with reality…

Anyway, on Sunday I volunteered to be a “monitor” on the Pride Parade course on Market street! I felt like doing that, almost like a “bucket list” type of thing. Some years ago I had marched with the ACLU contingent, but this year no such opportunity had made itself available. The task was supposed to be showing contingents a sign to speed up or slow down, but it became clear right away that we had no control over it. But it was great fun to help people avoid tripping on the curb of the bus shelter, and to pass the occasional gifts to the kids on the other side of the shelter! I made my own personal awards as follows: most self-centered contingent, Apple; saddest contingent, Macy’s (a few people holding a banner, a sign of the times); perplexing but courageous contingent, Target (because of how they reacted to right-wing threats); largest gap made, DHL; greatest adversary, the wind blowing against their banner.

And unlike my imagined fears, no right-wing terrorist. Hopefully they are busy harassing people on the internet and shooting cans in their backyard…

Finally on Sunday night I went back to see the closing night of ACT’s Wizard of Oz, which was so great because they had mostly local actors I knew already performing so well together in a very creative staging. I never saw the movie, and I think it would lack all the qualities I fund in this production. I was so happy to be in San Francisco…

Exercise, exercise…

Getting More Exercise

It started as many Saturdays, when I feel that others are out there seeking fun, while I seem to have lost any taste for doing things. Breakfast then coffee then maybe lunch, wondering why I don’t really want to go down to the sewing studio (my current project isn’t too exciting, a bit challenging as it’s an improvised modification of a pattern). But also, it’s the feeling after talking to people, trying to express vague emotional ideas and listening to how the real world might structure them into its structure. It’s as if you told me, well do you want to give up the security of a structured society, or try your fancy ideas to soon realize that they will encounter the chaos of unstructured people? This will be an endless discussion (in my head too), but as a matter of fact it is a bit of the source of this feeling that the day isn’t worth facing.

After walking to the bookstore and not finding anything exciting (after two reads that were: Detransition Baby, and Victories Greater than Death), I proceeded to look for DVDs at the library. On my way back, I determined to go for a hike, knowing that in my experience, exercise is my best anti-depressant.

To make things better, I put on my running clothes, which give me better self-esteem in my feminine looks! As I walked outside in my colorful tank top over a sports bra, I congratulated myself because I was feeling I was a woman. In a sense I had already raised my self-esteem for the day.

My itinerary was to reach Tilden Park, about 3 miles each way, and uphill. I would have caught the bus in order to exclusively walk on trails, but there was no bus (I think because we’re still on COVID bus schedules). It was good, the streets in the Berkeley hills are great. Google Maps even sent me on stairs I didn’t know existed. It was hard, actually, but at my level of running, doing hills makes me stronger (I don’t work out on machines, so I have to find alternatives like running hills!). There were steep parts that can be hard on the knees, but I have learned to manage my descent in a way that may feel counterintuitive: find ways to flex at the hip, extend the gait, not putting the brakes on the knee muscles.

I encountered so many mosquitoes on that trail that I had to do a windshield wiper motion with both arms for quite a while! They must have been flies, because I don’t seem to have been bitten…

On the way back I seriously did the speed walker moves with hips and arms, which seem to have saved my knees. I want to pay a lot more attention to potential obstacles on the pavement and sidewalks, because I find it’s very easy to trip, and I really hate that (it hurts!). It’s too bad as the views of San Francisco Bay are so beautiful.

As it happens so often, people leave things on the sidewalk for others to take, and I check them out for potential treasures. Nothing struck my fancy until I found a pair of pink 2lbs weights… I had just thought, on my way up, how my runner’s anatomy book suggested some weight lifting for the upper body, and how I neglected that. So I took the weights and finished the last mile or so with them. The hot pink color matched the pink-and-blue of my tank top, it felt great!

I don’t know how I could still climb the stairs (double step stride) to my fourth floor apartment, but it was obvious that I should stretch and massage my legs (I use a foam roller) to prevent cramping later in the evening. While washing the (now new-looking) pink weights in the bathroom sink, I was startled by my woman self in the mirror. That was a new feeling I want to keep.

I write this on Sunday morning, after going for my usual run… Almost unbelievable to me, but I used the excuse that I run back via the grocery store to buy the paper Sunday paper, and a croissant that will accompany my coffee after breakfast. Now I can proceed with the day, go to the sewing studio and finish that project.

I imagined I would write this blog entry as a coaching advice (e.g. start easy, make it a habit, manage your knees, make it a challenge, a meditation), but I really don’t think I want to tell people what to do. Motivation has to come from you, and my best advice is to learn to listen to your body and seek an understanding of how it works (look at runner’s anatomy books, but also learn about trigger points and massage, and stretch). Exercise and diet and cut the alcohol… It seems obvious now, but there’s nothing in my mind that will have a greater effect on body and mind…

New Shoes, Old Hometown

It was like… I don’t know, Christmas? I am in Montreal, which would be my “hometown” if one can call it the city where they grew up, but I grew up in the suburbs. A few years ago, from the far suburban home of my sister’s TV, I had learned about an organization whose founder had died. My ears perked up when they said it was “Aide aux Personnes Trans” (roughly “Trans People Help”), so I looked for it on the web. At that time, I had found from its resource list a store that carried shoes in larger sizes, and made a point to visit some day. Several years later, here I am at that very store, a full aisle of shoes in my size and preferred styles! So it felt like Christmas. I even said something like that to the young person helping me, that I was overwhelmed by the sight of it.

The photo doesn’t come up right, but it gives you an idea. One is in a pink tone, the other is really red, while the photo suggest it’s a tan color. It took me a long time to decide, because my old feet are a bit peculiar, they’re different sizes, and the right foot has expanded a couple of times, so it’s better if I wear my custom orthotics. That just means I’m always wearing running shoes #2, the older version of running shoes #1 which I use exclusively for running (see my other articles about running, which is one of the things that keep me alive and well). But when I want to wear a skirt, they don’t quite look right. And right now, in Summer, my feet yearn for something with a lot more ventilation than running shoes. Yes, I have old Teva’s men’s sandals, but no, they just don’t look right…

It’s the end of a nice summer Friday, and I just walked to the store in the red sandals, a black skirt, a daring hat (so rare these days that I wonder if everyone is waiting to be told they’ve got melanoma). I was in heaven. So after the Christmas experience, I just couldn’t believe that I had arrived in my “hometown” in the gender expression that makes me so relaxed and happy. I’m quite sure if anyone looked closely at my face they would see many markers of my birth assigned gender, but now I’m going to ignore the possibility that in this crowd someone is going to raise hell about it.

But the shoes… Is it possible that they would transform my self-image in such a significant way? Why do I look envious when I see my friend at the running shoe store with shoes in the color I want, while I get men’s shoes that are optimal for my feet and my aspirations at winning the next 5K in my sex and age category, which is not the same as my gender? One reason is that for now I run faster than most men of my age, and definitely faster than women my age. It’s a matter of body shape and composition (and I think, quite frankly, the ideal categorization would be a matter of your most recent running history, not just what sex you are – this way we might encourage people to show up in new categories unheard of before).

So this is an incredible moment. The moment in which I am myself where I thought I wouldn’t ever be.

The shoe store is here: https://www.chaussezengrand.com on Rue St Hubert, which I discovered also features lots of fabric stores!

 

 

Week End

The rain was one reason to stay home
Resonating loneliness inside
New thoughts seeking
Entry in the bouncing house
Colliding with a body that isn’t new

Mourning the girl that didn’t flourish

The wind blew the clouds and the thoughts away
The day after I could run in a bright shirt
And I could like who she is becoming
Having a moment on Clair de Lune

Welcoming her to a new world