Welcome to my substack

I'm sorry about the goat.

I grew up in rural Appalachia, in a town cut into the side of a mountain, in northern New Jersey, of all places. I say “of all places,” because any time I tell people I am from New Jersey, it is clear they expect my formative years were spent in a setting akin to that of Jersey Shore. This is untrue. I raised two ducklings. I hid from bears. I spent hours each week wandering in the woods with my best friend, and my preschool was located on a farm where we learned to ride horses. I am not a Jersey girl, in the cultural sense. I don’t even own any hoop earrings.

In the mornings in elementary school, I waited at the bus stop with my friends. A woman would pass us, powerwalking with her Walkman, which is a very late-1990s thing to type. Around this time, my next-door neighbors purchased two goats. They thought they were purchasing American pygmy goats. They purchased mountain goats by mistake.

These goats were towering in stature—the LeBraun James and Brittney Griner of goats. My neighbors erected high fences to keep the goats contained, but mountain goats are great athletes. They were the best athletes in my neighborhood, aside from the powerwalking woman. The goats escaped often. One summer, a goat bucked me off of my front porch when I was just trying to shuck corn, which is a very Appalachian thing to type. I had to miss preschool for a full week due to the extent of my injuries.

Another afternoon, the goats set themselves free (like Free Willy, but with goats), and we called the cops. The cops arrived, but they could not help because one of the goats mounted the police car. The second goat ran away and pursued the power-walking woman. She did not know because she was listening to music on her Walkman. The goat trotted behind her down the road while we watched in horror from our front window.

To my knowledge, no one told the woman of the goat. My friends and I did not tell her.   

This morning, as I ran by a neighborhood bus stop (a bus stop I pass every morning), I came to a realization: I am the power-walking Walkman woman of these children’s lives. Should I be pursued by a goat, they might never tell me.

Welcome to My Substack

I used to blog about training and racing regularly, and I miss doing that. I am racing next month, and I thought it would be fun to share my training process. Perhaps it will serve as a digital record of a cautionary tale: Do not train as this woman did. It did not work out well for her.

I am running Holiday Lake 50K++ in Appomattox, Virginia on February 17th.   

I raced it a decade ago. I was living in New Haven at the time. It was a blizzard year. That year, I ran a lot and had plenty of time-on-feet training. But, because of the snowy conditions, I did fewer faster-paced miles than I needed to excel on this type of course. I remember walking away, feeling like I under-performed. It is time to get that chip off my shoulder and try again.

Ironically, now I run faster miles but run fewer miles overall. I have the opposite problem.

So, what else has changed since the last time I raced an ultra? Everything. The last time I seriously prepared for a race, I had no children. I was a Ph.D. student writing my dissertation, and I lived in Kentucky.

My main ambition coming into this race is to see if I can prioritize family and career, in tandem with my unreasonable hobby. Most of my training is what I call “invisible training,” in that I fit it into the crevices of my day or during toddler naptimes so that it minimally interferes with what are (to me) higher commitments. Also, I could always run more but not without compromising writing time or lecture preparation. I choose not to make those bargains either.

In these ways, I am a very different athlete than I was in 2020 before graduating and becoming a mom. Nothing in my life is optimized for performance. And I am nervous about what this means, racing-wise. I can make strong claims about how I have developed a more mature view of competition and become openhanded about success. These things are true. But I also do not want to under-perform, relative to my personal history. I don’t want to slow down.

As athletes, we have a tough choice: We can exit the sport in peak form, walking away from competition at the height of our powers. Or we can remain in the sport long-term, occupying competition in softer forms. We can deteriorate in public view. I choose the latter.

My life is not optimized for training the way it was before. My life is optimized for toddlers. Maybe this means I won’t be fast. But this is worth figuring out. And, anyway, everything good I have taken from this sport—friends, growth in discipline, time outdoors, confidence—are the consequence of trying really hard in pursuit of excellence, not of excellence itself. I can keep trying really hard in all seasons of life.

Fast Facts and Weekly Numbers:

Miles run: 85.8 (This is the highest mileage I can feasibly run with two toddlers, and I cannot do it often. 85 miles with toddlers is equivalent to 185 miles no toddlers. Don’t check my math. It’s an estimate.) Also, much, though not all, of my training can be found here.

Longest mileage day: 22

Shortest run: 1.5 miles

Supplementary training:

My three-year-old is a very habit-based, routines-oriented person. Perhaps all toddlers are. We did an 8-minute HIIT for Kids workout with her 2 weeks ago, and now she has us perform the same routine every night. It is not challenging, but it is something. Those 15-second air squat segments are really adding up. I also did basic weights, sans toddlers, twice.

Committee Meetings: 3

I am on 3 university committees – the IRB Ethics Board, the Assessment Committee, and the Tenure Requirements Committee. All 3 met this week.

Lectures Taught: 9

Office Hours: 5

Phone Meetings: 2 – but for fun opportunities

Non-philosophical writing - I had a column for iRunFar come out this week on perseverance. Perseverance is a virtue that sounds easy (just ‘stay in place’), but ‘staying in place’ is one of the hardest things we do.

Philosophical writing - I am writing about how athletics can be used in the formation of civic virtues. Living the dream.

Baby wake-ups - 2 per night average

Bagels - 6ish

Favorite Thing I Taught This Week: Plato’s Euthyphro

What I’m Leisure Reading: How to Know a Person, David Brooks