Newsflash: 26.2 ≠ 26.2!

This morning, one of my co-workers sent me the link to a New York Times article written by Juliet Macur and entitled "Plodders Have a Place, but Is It in a Marathon?" He rolled his eyes at the snarky article; I was infuriated by its message.

Macur talked to several "elite" runners who say they can't stand the fact that running a marathon has become such a popular thing on people's lifelong "to-do" lists; that if you're going to take six or seven hours to finish, it isn't a real marathon and detracts from the accomplishment of the elite athletes who finished in under three hours.

Purists believe that running a marathon should be just that — running the entire course at a relatively fast clip. They point out that a six-hour marathoner is simply participating in the event, not racing in it. Slow runners have disrespected the distance, they say, and have ruined the marathon’s mystique.

Excuse me, but in an individual sport where except for the top five or ten competitors of each gender everyone is basically racing himself, isn't participation the point? And 26.2 miles is 26.2 miles. What am I missing here? Most of what elite runners talk about when it comes to speed is their PR - personal record - for varying distances. And breaking that is often their primary goal, win or lose. A win when a seriously competitive runner doesn't break his or her own PR for the distance is a little bittersweet - they beat the field, but they didn't beat their own best time. A PR always feels good, whether your PR is 2:05:38 like the current American Marathon record holder, Khalid Khannouchi, or 7:14:30 like the last person to finish last year's Marine Corps Marathon.

Training for a marathon is an extremely demanding process, both physically and mentally. It affects every aspect of your life and takes up a lot of time. You train in pouring rain, in high humidity, in cold weather, in gusting winds and in soaring temperatures with one goal: taking the last step of those 26.2 miles, the one that puts you on the other side of the finish line. The race itself is no picnic, either. Many runners hit "the wall" around mile 20, making that last 10K feel like the rest of their lives. Between leg cramps, swollen feet, blisters, broken toenails and finding the balance between dehydration and hyponatremia, figuring out how to convince your body to finish a marathon without wanting to collapse immediately afterward is a science - with some luck tossed in - no matter the pace.

One thing I've always respected and admired about runners is that they're such an open, friendly bunch. Yeah, the "elites" blow past everyone else with tunnel vision but most runners - fast or slow, trying for a PR or just out for some fun - are a rowdy, cheerful crew of jokers who are more than willing to lend a helping hand or encouraging word should the need arise. And that's what this article - and apparently some of the world's elite runners - doesn't get.

Crossing the finish line at a marathon is a personal victory, one that isn't impacted by anyone else's race, which is why I don't understand the point of view of the "elite" runners Macur interviewed on the topic. Because regardless of whether you walked, ran or wheeled your way through the course, one thing holds true for every participant: finishing a marathon takes stamina, endurance and a whole lot of heart.

Why do we keep putting education on a back-burner?

I was raised to believe that there is nothing more important in a child's life than his or her education, whether via the multiplcation tables or a visit to a national park (those sneaky parents, slipping bits of history, geology, geography and environmentalism into something fun!). And that learning doesn't stop when you grow up.

As the daughter of an engineer whose definition of fun includes thinking up new ways to do things that get his name sent to the U.S. Patent Office and a teacher-turned-psychologist who got a second Master's in Industrial Hygiene before diving into the non-profit world of corporate real estate...well, I certainly got the point that education isn't something that's ever "finished." My family wasn't unique in my town: with five out of five elementary schools recognized as California Distinguished Schools and the only middle school and high school (and one elementary school) each recognized as National Blue Ribbon Schools, the school district I grew up in and most of the families who lived there were serious about turning out well-educated students.

What I didn't realize was surprising about my education until I got to college was that it was public. As a Community Facilitator and then a House Proctor in college (two of GW's versions of an R.A.), my residents assumed I had gone to private school K-12, as many of them had. About a year and a half after I graduated, primary education came up in conversation with my boss, who was floored to find out I had attended public schools until college. The stellar teachers, myriad extra-curriculars and demanding course load I had taken for granted were, it seemed, a very tiny exception to a very depressing rule.

I knew public education was underfunded but assumed the ratio of good to bad schools was skewed toward the good, even if "good" didn't always quite reach the quality of education I received. I mean, school was school; it was where I went every day, yawned through some classes, laughed through others and hung out with my friends before going to band practice, a Model UN roast, dance class or home to do copious amounts of homework. Wasn't it pretty much the same for everyone? When I kicked off college in Washington, DC by reading Ron Suskind's heart-wrenching A Hope in the Unseen, I quickly learned that the answer was "Not by a long shot."

The public education problem is nationwide, but DC has a reputation for having some of the worst schools in the country, from reading levels to graduation rates. In a city that is home to inspiring historical moments, beautiful landmarks and some of the most powerful and best-educated elected officials, activists, lobbyists and lawyers in the country, DC students are one of the most striking examples of the dichotomy between city natives and transplants - and one of the many "dirty little secrets" kept about what life is like for those who grew up here. And they know it.

I spent part of the summer after graduation teaching some of the kids considered DC's best and brightest high school students and I left every day wanting to cry in frustration. They wouldn't answer questions unless I refused to say anything else until they did (and sometimes not even then), the few who took notes never looked at them again and - most frustrating of all - 90% of them failed their final project because they plagiarized it.

My students drove me crazy, but I was more depressed than mad at them. Some of them knew what plagiarism was, but most of them had never been told that copying and pasting from a website is wrong (yes, even if you change the sentence or word order). Some of them were very bright, but had never been expected to actually retain anything or put in serious effort, so they didn't know how. Some of them were genuinely interested, but lived in a world where school was a joke and pretending disinterest was self-preservation. Some of them just didn't care.

The program through which I taught these kids was only six weeks long and while I'd like to believe sitting down and talking to them about what plagiarism is, why it's bad and the repercussions it can have made a difference, I know most of them probably forgot about it five minutes after they left the room for the last time.

After all, it has been made crystal clear to DC students (and, I would argue, a large percentage of public school students nationwide) that their education is not a priority, despite the lip-service paid to its importance. They've been shifted from school to school, teachers have been fired, teachers have been moved, and overwhelming numbers of teachers have been "let go" due to a supposed budget crunch (despite the fact that the DC schools' budget for fiscal year 2010 includes a $14.9 million net increase from 2009). In an environment that changes from one day to the next with no warning, how are these kids supposed to learn? And how can any government, local, state or federal, justify giving them such an unstable learning environment?

In a country that demands a college degree, if not a postgraduate one, for the overwhelming majority of middle class jobs but can't be bothered to make those degrees affordable, how are today's students supposed to become the leaders they've been told they need to be? Our education system is broken - has been, for a long time - but it receives very little government attention anymore because we have "bigger" problems. Are there issues facing the U.S. that are going to come to a head sooner than this one? Definitely. But what could possibly be more important than ensuring our country's future - in both a very realistic having-people-who-know-how-to-do-stuff way and a completely idealistic fulfill-your-dreams way?

Blog Action Day 2009: Blogging for Climate Change

Human impact on the environment - particularly the catastrophic changes our behavior is wreaking on climate systems worldwide - has been an issue of increasing concern throughout my lifetime.

I remember the advent of AOL, Facebook and the commercially available hybrid car, but I don't remember a time when the ramifications of global warming weren't discussed as something the human race needs to confront immediately.

The Kyoto Protocol, first adopted in December 1997 in an attempt to combat global warming beyond the borders of individual countries, is one of the first issues that sparked my interest in international affairs, which eventually became my major in college. This document has been around for roughly half my life. As of 2009, despite its assorted problems, it has been signed and ratified by 183 countries, with another half-dozen who have not yet decided whether or not to sign. The only country that has no intention of ratifying the Kyoto Protocol? The United States. The largest emitter of fossil fuel-generated carbon dioxide per capita? The United States.

Committing to move away from the internal combustion engine-powered consumer culture that has been both the root and the expression of our country's wealth for decades isn't easy. We're lazy, we like things to stay the same and we certainly don't want to give up our luxuries when there's no immediate benefit. But we have to do it, and we have to start now.

In my lifetime, which isn't even the blink of an eye in the earth's history, climate change has progressed from one of those issues society worries about for future generations to something that is happening now and picking up speed seasonally. The increase in tsunamis, hurricanes and droughts, the shift in weather patterns, the fluctuating temperature extremes and rapidly disappearing polar ice caps - these are all documented and scientifically linked to our world's changing climate, which is linked to our abuse of its resources. But perhaps the most frightening thing about climate change is that we no longer need charts and graphs and projections to see that it's happening:

Growing up in the L.A. area, we joked that it was the smog that made for such spectacular sunsets. Flying into LAX in the last five years has become a painful experience. The city is so obscured by smog that the skyline has been all but erased by pollution - even downtown's tallest buildings are difficult to see.

When my parents lived in South Florida 25 years ago, it was a given that January and February would be comfortable enough to turn off the air-conditioning. During my brother's last winter in the same city in 2008, he and his family were only able to turn it off for a week.

During the 18 years I lived in Southern California, any wildfires that started were controlled fairly quickly and never came anywhere near the beach communities that line the coast - even during the seven-year drought the state experienced while I was in elementary school. In the last few years, wildfires have raged out of control throughout the region, decimating communities that have never been considered at risk before.

That the climate is now changing so rapidly that its shifts are visible to the casual observer makes an irrefutable case for the fact that it has moved from a worrisome "potential" problem into a very real danger zone. The U.S. government, led by California's new emission standards, is finally beginning to take action but right now it's too little, too slowly.

The potential for a massive shift in cultural perception is there: in President Obama's plans for green jobs, in the movement toward reusable water bottles and grocery bags, composting and recycling efforts, higher-efficiency lightbulbs and appliances and in the fact that this is one issue where - at least in my generation - party lines are beginning to disintegrate. But this isn't something we can put off until "tomorrow" any longer.

We have the intellectual capital to make the shift to not just a climate-conscious but a climate-protecting society. We have the added urgency of the world's current financial difficulties - some of which could be alleviated by the boost an expanded green industry would give the global and national economies. We have absolutely no reason not to begin this shift right now. Don't you think?

This post was written as part of Change.org's Blog Action Day 2009. There are more than 9,400 blogs participating worldwide right now - to add yours, click here. Blog Action Day 2009 is also taking place on Twitter, using hashtag #BAD09.

Ooh rah, runners!

The 34th Annual Marine Corps Marathon is less than two weeks away and I'm starting to go into overly-excited hyperdrive mode. I printed my e-confirmation card this morning, drooled over this year's blue-and-white bib - much prettier than last year's army green - and perused the online race program. I signed up my cell phone to receive text message updates of my progress so my mom, who will be carrying my phone, will know more or less where I am on the course.

One of my favorite things about the Marine Corps Marathon is its history: more than 380,000 people have run this race (the 400,000th finisher will receive their medal this year), among them politicians, journalists and a Supreme Court Justice. It's the fifth largest marathon in the country with 30,000 slots that sell out within a few weeks every year (this year, the field was 70% full by noon on April 3rd, 48 hours after registration opened).

The MCM is also full of compelling stories, a handful of which are featured in the annual program. Retired Master Gunnery Sgt. Tom Knoll will be running his fifth MCM and 187th marathon on October 25th. Yeah, you read that right: 187 marathons - that's roughly 4,900 miles in races alone. His reason for running so hard? He wants to raise $1 million for charity over the course of his lifetime. He's past the $800,000 mark at this point, so I'd say he's closing in on his goal. Gerard Michel, a Frenchman who's flying out for this year's race, is running as a tribute to the kindness of an American soldier who handed him an orange in Paris when he was a boy, in the midst of World War II.

This year's MCM is my first repeat marathon and I'm looking forward to feeling less nervous on the course. Rather than wondering where the next turn will be (or staring in dismay up a disconcertingly large hill just after I'd picked up my pace at mile 9, like in Seattle this June), I can put a mental overlay of my memories from last year's race over the course map: I know that the first 10 miles are the hardest, both because they contain the hilliest portion of the course and are the most residential (i.e. have the fewest spectators to keep the runners smiling). But you're still pretty relaxed, swapping jokes with the runners around you and cheering your head off for every wheelchair participant you see straining to make it up one of Arlington's killer hills.

Around the halfway point is when the Marines start to put on the pressure and you find yourself straightening your shoulders and picking your feet up a little higher. By mile 16, near the Lincoln Memorial, the crowds form a solid wall on both sides of the street and you're high-fiving lines of kids (and their parents!) every few strides. Mile 20 is the longest because the entire thing is run across the 14th Street Bridge (really it's the Rochambeau Memorial Bridge, but no one actually calls it that) and all you want is to get off that obnoxiously boring block of concrete.

By mile 23 you're exhausted, your stomach has threatened to revolt when those well-meaning folks at the beginning of Crystal Run offered you beer and you've probably seen at least one runner carrying shoes that their feet are too swollen to wear. But the finish line is closer with every step and by mile 25 you're bearing down, finding energy you didn't know you had and using every ounce of it to push yourself forward. While your mind is still focused on the hill that came out of nowhere at mile 26, you're crossing the finish line and on your way to a "Congratulations, ma'am" from one of the 253 2nd Lieutenants carefully placing a medal around each finisher's neck.

It may be a little sick to get so excited about something that drains your body of all nutrience, tears up your muscles and leaves you feeling like you could sleep for a full day...but I can't wait! During the next ten days I'll be sleeping more, getting all the potassium I can and obsessing, somewhat neurotically, about keeping my feet and legs injury-free. (And continuing to fundraise for Running for Life - it's raised more than $600 so far and I need 177 more people to donate $26.20 by December 3rd to reach my goal.)

Whether or not you're a running enthusiast, I encourage you to go watch a race in your area - a marathon, if there is one. The crowd's enthusiasm is contagious and watching people reach their goals is inspiring, whatever the venue. And without a doubt, your presence will put a smile on a runner's face (especially if you're giving them some much-needed cowbell).

Ooh rah, runners! See you out there!