Firsts

Posted on May 27, 2013 by lucindasrunningblog
First 10K - Sea Dog Dash for Independence, photo Peter Cole

First 10K – Sea Dog Dash for Independence, photo Peter Cole

I ran my first 10k yesterday in the annual Sea Dog Dash for Independence in Brunswick, Maine. It was a cool and rainy morning—perfect for staying comfortable on a long run. My aim was to maintain something under 8:30 minutes per mile. For the first time, I raced with a gps watch, the Garmin Forerunner 10. I don’t see myself becoming an obsessive time/pace keeper, which I fear would distract from some of the joys of losing myself in running, but I am enjoying the gps function as a source of information. During the race, if I felt I was slowing down or going out too strong, I could have a quick look and adjust my pace as needed. I felt pretty comfortable with the 1oK, until the last mile, at which point I was whooped. I had to will my legs to keep up the rhythm to the finish. In the final stretch, I was passed by a guy I’d overtaken around mile 5. He clearly had a fan base, as he passed me to wild cheering from the crowd! I came in 27th out of 117 overall and  5th in my age group (40-49). I ran a 50:43, averaging 8:11s. It feels like I’m entering new running territory, and I’m excited to see what happens when I return to the weekly Back Cove 5K series this Wednesday.

Today I’ll loosen up with one of my favorite runs—a stunning run which leads through the woods to the ocean and back: Morse Mountain in Phippsburg. When I started running a few years ago, it was this hilly, 4 mile run that helped me realize that I was living according to false ideas about my physical abilities. I recall explaining that I could never jog  more than 3 miles because of damage done to my knees as an athlete in high school.  No doubt I have other such invented beliefs that hold me back, in running and elsewhere, and I’m on the lookout for them!

Continuing the theme of Firsts, I’ve also just concluded a two-person exhibit with John Jennison at Aucocisco Galleries.

Aucocisco Galleries, Installation Shot

Aucocisco Galleries, Installation Shot

The turnout for the show, part of the gallery’s Double Dozen series, was fabulous, and I had the opportunity, over the stretch of 3 days of gallery gatherings, to hear others’ thoughts on the work and to express what the work means to me. I had amazing conversations about the lure of the natural/animal world, the disheartening degradation of the environment, about my strategies for using narrative in my paintings, and I was able to discuss my interest combining representation (bird stacks and animals floating in space) with abstraction (earth, water, and other elements contained in cubes and rectangles). I feel inspired by the whole experience. Not to be reductive about my own work, but the abundance of dialogue about it was an opportunity to be concise, at least temporarily.  This week I begin my collaboration with the Maine Farmland Trust, in which I’ll be combining my running and drawing work. More on that soon!

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Scrappy Hungry Mess

Posted on May 9, 2013 by lucindasrunningblog
Hell

Album cover, Richard Hell and the Voidoids

I’m wrapping up a three day road trip. Part one was a trip to Vermont for faculty meetings. It was surprisingly hot in Montpelier, so I woke up early on the second day to get a run in before the temps began to climb. There’s a great 6 1/2 miles around Berlin Pond on hard-packed dirt roads–great terrain for running! You get purchase but it’s more forgiving than pavement. I ran by dew covered fields, horse farms, and views of mist hovering low over the pond. Perfect.

On my way to to New York from Montpelier, I stopped at Kimball Union in Meriden, N.H. to drop work for an alumni show. Surreal in many ways.

After a night out in Brooklyn with my cousin, I hit New York for an art day. I started with the punk show at the Met. Having fallen in love punk culture as a teen-ager, I was drawn to the idea of fashion artifacts from the 70s. Unfortunately, the show was a little…dull, and misplaced, particularly for anyone who ever went to an actual Ramones/Blondie/Voidoids show. There are some Vivienne Westwood pants and Yamamoto dresses that are dirty and luscious, and I do have a new longing to knit a messy mohair sweater, but other than that, it was a snooze. The best viewing stretch of the day was in Chelsea, going from the excess of the new Jeff Koons show(s) at David Zwirner and Gagosian to 3 wonderful prints by Luis Camnitzer at Alexander Gray. I suppose that echoes the slightly distasteful mix at the met: big money couture and the dirt, street, and noise of punk. Not that punk didn’t have its connection to fashion and money, but its initial appeal had more to do with the scrappy, hungry mess of desire.

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Fear and Empathy

Posted on April 29, 2013 by lucindasrunningblog
Male front runners, including winner Lelisa Desisa, Boston Marathon, 2013. Photo by Rick Chalmers

Male front runners, including winner Lelisa Desisa, Boston Marathon, 2013.
Photo by Rick Chalmers

It’s been two weeks since the Boston Marathon, and tonight, in Portland, the Maine Running Company is hosting the Runners for Boston 5K, “to bring the community of runners & those that want peace and solidarity together to show support for those affected in Boston on 4/15/13.” I’m looking forward to the race and to running with others who are looking for ways to express empathy in community.

I’ve been reading a lot over the last two weeks; in fact, I’ve been obsessing over the details of the Boston Marathon bombing. Among the articles I’ve read are those that question the outpouring of empathy for Boston, using the lens of race, for example, to question whether (white, privileged) Americans feel this tragedy more deeply because of the races of the victims and because of a view that the sport of marathon running is one of economic and cultural privilege. The second argument can be dismissed if one simply looks at the diversity of the sport; the first point, however, is tricky territory to negotiate, and it’s no surprise that the truth is complex. I’m left thinking that it’s essential to consider the relationship between fear and empathy. In spite of dramatic social advances, racism, sexism, and homophobia exist both overtly and in the subterranean of American culture (this offers some explanation for what seems to me to be misplaced critique). Also, I see that it might be easier to dissociate from violence to and by the Other. That said, if I look into the terrain my own heart has traveled in the last 2 weeks, it occurs to me that when fear strikes deep, it can be the genesis of a broader empathy—one that extends, in this case, far beyond Boston and a certain type of victim or perpetrator.

It’s true–the proximity of the events in Boston hit a particular nerve in me because I was a few miles away, and because I, and my children, family, and close friends, were just a few random choices away from being on the horrific site of the finish line. However, that personal fear, for me and others, seems to have given rise to a dialogue about a range of global issues, including the ethics of drone attacks, the nature of sectarian violence, and even how a lack of recent investment in U.S. infrastructure can create a context for disillusionment and violence.

In tonight’s run, I’ll be holding the human condition in my heart, because the Boston bombings tapped into a deep place of fear and sadness about the many challenges that stand in the way of a hopeful, healthy future for humanity and the earth itself.

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Vigilance and Intentionality

Posted on April 16, 2013 by lucindasrunningblog
Lead Pack, photograph by Rick Chalmers

Lead Pack, photograph by Rick Chalmers

Yesterday, I was among the 500,000 people who trekked to Boston to see the marathon. Rousing myself at 5:30, I packed up supplies and hit the road, stopping in Portland to pick up my friend, Rick. The day was perfect for running, with temps in the mid-50s. This fact held special significance for us, as Rick was one of the many exceptional runners who, in the 2012 Boston Marathon, faced record breaking—and race breaking—temperatures in the 90s. With tales from that race being recounted on the drive, we made our way to Newton, where we set up camp at a prime viewing spot, near mile 21.

As with any race (any run for that matter!), there are as many tales to tell as there are runners and spectators. I was captivated by the women’s competition this year. Rick captured the story in series of exceptional photographs, a few of which I’ve included here. Since I’m new to running, this is the first marathon viewing where I recognized several of the racers and could spot them coming. The fact that I recognized Sheri Piers cranking up the last stretch of Heartbreak Hill, simply from her running gate, indicates that my running obsession has reached new heights.

Sheri Piers, photo by Rick Chalmers

Piers, at age 40, ran a stunning 2012 marathon, finishing as the first American woman in spite of the scorching temperatures. This year, I’ve been following the careers of two American runners, Shalane Flanagan and Cara Goucher, who are friends and fierce competitors. They famously share a coach and training schedule. In the weeks before the marathon, it was reported that Flanagan had a chance of taking first, and that Goucher, due to recent injury, would have trouble keeping up. We watched, at mile 21, as the lead vehicle introduced the first female runner. Ana Dulce Félix from Portugal had a substantial lead, with no one else in sight.

Ana Dulce Felix, photograph Rick Chalmers

Ana Dulce Felix, photograph Rick Chalmers

After a surprisingly long wait, we saw a tight knit pack of lead female runners, including Goucher and Flanagan, coming up the hill. They raced by us, just a few feet away (see first photo, above)! Shortly after, near mile 23, the pack overtook Félix’s substantial lead, and Kenyan runner Rita Jeptoo made the final push, coming in first. Flanagan came in fourth, and Goucher, beating predictions, came in sixth.

Rick had a number of close friends racing, most of whom are associated with the Dirigo Running Club in Maine. All of these runners had passed mile 21 by 1:45, and it was time for us to head out. I’d been texting back and forth with my son, Link, throughout the race. Rick and I were deciding whether or not to head into town to find Link and track down other friends at the finish line. Noting a work phone conference at 2:00, and the fact that Link was having a festive time with his friends, after some deliberation, we decided to head toward Maine and forego the finish line.

We had arrived at the Red Hook Brewery in Portsmouth and ordered food when I received a text from my brother-in-law, Eddie, asking, “You okay?” I responded with apologies for not being in touch about my plans. I mentioned the text to Rick, who looked up with surprise, saying, “I just got the same text from my friend, Nate…” We both looked around at the televisions in the bar—nothing out of the usual. Moments later, another text: “Did you hear two bombs just went off at the finish line?” Suddenly, bar screens were filled with horrific images of the blasts. People throughout the restaurant were leaping up, trying to contact family and friends. I shot out of my seat, mumbling, “the Boys!” I ran outside to try to contact my sons, Link and Ray. No cell service. I knew Link was downtown, and I wasn’t sure if Ray had stayed at school or was in the city. After a panicked 20 minutes, I received a text from Link, and then one from Ray; I could breathe again. Over the next hour, Rick tracked down  friends, who were safe but stuck at the finish line, unable to retrieve their bags or get out of the city. We sat stunned, watching the news, then finally made our way back to the car and to Maine, where we met up with our friends and families.

Given the scope of yesterday’s tragedy, the tale of my day is small and insignificant. I’m left feeling lucky, terribly sad, and also angry—angry that this kind of violence exists on American soil, and that it exists–with more regularity and with complex complicity–around the world. I think that one possible response to the madness of yesterday’s events is to intentionally hold onto the inspiring images of runners, while, with equal vigilance, holding the victims of the day in our hearts. As an artist and as a runner, I believe in the power of images and in the power of storytelling. And so, though my story is small, I share it, along with these beautiful images of running, perhaps as a small visual and narrative counterbalance to the abundant images of blood stained streets.

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Space for Looking and Listening

Posted on April 4, 2013 by lucindasrunningblog

EagleRun1 EagleRun2

I’ve had a few outstanding neighborhood runs this last week. The first was an 8-mile run across town, from my house to the Thorne Head parking lot and back. It was the first time I’ve experienced an easy 8 miles—or experienced 8 miles as an easy run. I ran around 9 ½ minute miles and they felt comfortable. I was tempted to scoot up the remaining half mile to the water (Goose Cove, I believe), but decided not to push it, having heard many times that it’s not a good idea to add miles to a running routine too quickly. The next day, I ran in the other direction, a hilly 6-mile out-and-back run. So much for the easy 8–this was a molasses run, and I felt every minute of it! Half way through, when I had almost reached the turnaround point, I noticed something in my peripheral vision. I looked over at Campbell Pond and saw a mature eagle—maybe the biggest I’ve ever seen—balancing on a razor thin sheet of ice. Open water perforated the pond, but he balanced, perfectly still, peering into an ice hole. While I watched, the eagle took off for his perch in a skeletal tree bordering the pond.

I love how running slows me down, how it opens up space for undistracted looking and listening.

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Good Form

Posted on March 25, 2013 by lucindasrunningblog

Country Club 1

Country Club 3

Though the ski season isn’t quite over, and I’ve had some great adventures in New Hampshire and Canada over the past few weeks, I’m looking forward to more focused running in the coming months. With a year and a half of running experience, I feel better able to map out my path and I’m learning how to be attentive to form and pace. On my last day at Riverview Physical Therapy a few months ago, Chris gave me a few resources for analyzing running form, including the website  Good Form Running.  In one video on the site, U.S. Olympian, Grant Robison, critiques a group of runners in an Olympic competition (bottom left corner on the site). I’m trying to get my head around mid-foot running, and it’s amazing to see these runners move so fast without reaching ahead with their stride.

Ramping up for increased running, I’ve made a few spring running purchases. First, I picked up a pair of Mizuno wave riders  (birthday running gear—thanks, Dad!). These are light and responsive sneakers with enough stability for adding stress-free distance running in the coming weeks. I tried them out on the morning of my birthday with a 7.25 mile run around Bath, and they felt great. I also picked up some Oiselle Lesley Knickers, which will be great for the warmer weeks ahead. The spring racing season will begin with the 5 miler sponsored by the Portland Boys and Girls Club in Portland. I’m running with a group of fast friends, which means I’ll have a nice welcome at the finish line!

Huffing and Puffing in the Shamrock 5K

Huffing and Puffing in the Shamrock 5K

I did race last week in the Shamrock 5K in Bath, Maine. It was a hilly little course, and I experienced some nausea throughout the race. I’m trying to work out whether it was due to pre-race breakfast or the hilly course. I haven’t quite figured out how to handle pre-race nourishment, and I’m suspicious that breakfast was the problem in the Shamrock.

Painting’s Identity Crisis

In addition to some skiing adventures over the last month, I’ve moved my art studio to Brunswick. The new space is bringing renewed focus. With two upcoming shows—a show of 12 paintings and a running/drawing installation project–I’ve been pondering the current state of painting. According to recent art writing, painting is supposedly very much alive but suffering from an identity crisis (or at least a lack of critical framework). Though the “death of painting” as a medium is discussed with annoying regularity, the cyclical discourse does provide an excuse to think newly about what it is that I’m committed to in the studio. John Yau provides a snapshot of the perpetual tug of war at the end of his article “Philip Guston’s Line“:

When Guston was dissatisfied with what he had done, he wiped the surface with            turpentine or scraped off the paint and drew something else — a book sitting open in an erased cloud.  Here is the contested space of painting. On one side are those who would empty it out, declaring that paint is all one needs. On the other side are those who would put everything back in, including space and all kinds of things, including cigarette butts and dirty paintbrushes. That’s the dual legacy that Pollock and Guston have left us, and if you ask me, it can’t get much better than that.

In thinking about the materiality of the paint versus the subjects that are collected on the canvas, it seems that understanding the framework for contemporary painting still means pondering material and subject as dichotomous conceptual possibilities. I like Yau’s implicit view that the tension of the question is what makes painting such an engaging practice.

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Generative Intersections

Posted on February 23, 2013 by lucindasrunningblog
CAAPulinos

At Pulino’s with the lovely Amy R

CAA1

The CAA Conference at the Hilton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I spent last week at the College Art Association conference in NYC. The take away from the week was a new awareness of how inspiration takes root when different parts of my life intersect. The week was rich: feasting with friends, making new connections, formally presenting my thoughts on online education in the fine arts, taking in some fabulous (and some tedious) lectures, and making time for city running. In the next few blog posts, I’ll share snippets about the experience.

Central Park Reservoir

Central Park Reservoir

Let’s start with running. My hip issue is resolved and my strength is coming back–it’s fun to run again! My second run in Central Park was one of those dreamy runs that lingers in the imagination. The temp was in the high 40s, and the paths were filled with that entertaining NYC mix of serious runners in training; inexperienced, heavily outfitted runners; shuffling joggers; fast walkers; and the hard working, fun loving runners. The conference was in midtown, and from 59th street, the park road arcs toward the east side. One can run the east side bend, head around the reservoir,  and run back down to midtown on the west side. It’s a nice 5-mile lollipop loop from the hotel and provided just the break I needed after 4 days in conference chairs.

Enlivened from an hour in the park, I was ready to head into a final conference panel: the Visual Culture Caucus’ “Life’s Edge: A Thinking-Feeling Lab in the Risks, Powers, and Possibilities of Forms-of-Life,” which included a presentation by my grad school professor, Steve Kurtz. Kurtz was in the press quite a bit from 2004-8, when he became a “bioterrorism” suspect in a strange and horrifying chain of events in which life, art, and tragedy collided. The story is discussed in this interview with Amy Goodman: Steve Kurtz Interview. At the conference, with all of this trauma in his past, Steve was his sharp and entertaining self, discussing his recent piece with Critical Art Ensemble, “Winning Hearts and Minds.” Having a quick visit with Steve was the perfect conclusion to the week’s work.  

I spent Saturday night relaxing with friends on the upper West side, and before hitting the road for Maine on Sunday, I took off down the Riverside Park path for a morning run. The weather was turning, and the biting cold and a brisk wind made me wish I’d packed gloves and a hat. I forged ahead with frost tipped ears, and found the park scattered with runners, bikers, and clusters of dog walkers. Around the 79th street boat mooring, the trail led me through an abandoned gazebo and under the highway through a construction zone. I was the only one on the path for a half mile, and as my spidey sensors tingled, I wondered about the strange patterns of recreation in NY, noting how much things have changed since I lived there in the late 80s–I would never have run that stretch back then.

On the drive home, reflecting on the trip, I pondered once again how mental clutter diminishes with each mile I run, and how in the absence of clutter, a space is cleared for new ideas to form. In New York, I realized that a new body of studio work is emerging—mixed media, performative, and generated out of the intersection of my running practice and my studio practice. I’ll keep you posted.

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Behind a Stack of Books with No Arms

Posted on February 21, 2013 by lucindasrunningblog

 

I’m currently teaching Self as Subject, a painting seminar that I designed last spring. It’s a seminar that explores ways in which art has been/can be a vehicle for exploring identity. A few weeks ago I did a quick demo in which I focused on the range of texture and detail that can be accomplished with a palette knife. I had, in an earlier thread (it’s an online class), been sharing about the ways in which art sometimes tells the truth beyond our intentions. I was aiming to inspire students to look more carefully and intentionally but also to be aware that art practice brings stuff up and can be intimidating, particularly for beginners. I finished my demo piece, and when I looked at it, I realized that I had painted myself behind a stack of books with no arms. That’s the only good thing about the piece, actually. I’d had a day where I felt at the mercy of my circumstances. I set out to make a painting about form and technique, and of course, I made a piece about feeling stuck. Amazing.

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Lost and Found!

Posted on February 2, 2013 by lucindasrunningblog

Bail

When Things Don’t Click…and Then They Do!

The rain has done away with every last flake of snow in Midcoast Maine. This is tragic in terms of my ski plans, but a dream in terms of finding items lost in the snow on previous adventures.

I did a short, easy run on the Sewall Trail yesterday. About a quarter of a mile in, I ran through the familiar stone wall and stated, “the most logical place for the missing bail is right here.” I looked down and there it was! Oblivious to my previous, unsuccessful snow searches, the bail was right there in the middle of the trail sitting on a rock! The woodies are overjoyed and looking forward to hitting the snow again.

By the way, if you look up “ski bail” on the web, you do not find the anatomy of a ski binding; you do find an endless supply of serious ski tricks gone bad.

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Very Good, but Old Fashioned

Posted on January 31, 2013 by lucindasrunningblog
Mt. Washington, seen from the x-c trails

Mt. Washington, seen from the x-c trails

Last weekend I traveled to Bretton Woods, NH for NENSA’s 12th Annual NE Women’s XC Day. I learned about the event from my mother’s first cousin, Sally Howe, an avid athlete in her 60s who volunteers as one of the instructors. I walked in the door on Saturday, nervous and excited, only to find my KUA high school ski coach, Anne Donaghy, standing inside! Anne remembered me with, “Cindy Williams! You skied with me around ’83, right?” It turns out that she’s one of the event organizers. This was my first re-connection with the wider world of x-c skiing, and bumping into the woman who, along with her husband John, taught me how to race seemed like a significant beginning.

Bretton Woods, Mount Washington Resort

Bretton Woods, Mount Washington Resort

On Sunday, I started out in an Uphill/Downhill Classic clinic with Trina Hosmer. Trina was on the first U.S. Women’s Olympic x-c Ski Team in 1972, and she still competes (and wins) as a Masters racer. After a few hours of hill drills, I left with arms like rubber and some key tips: keep my head up on the hills and don’t stiffen up on the flats. At the end of the day, after the final waxing demo, I learned that Trina had referred to me as a “very good skier–old fashioned, but very good.” I’ve been crunching away on “old fashioned” ever since. This wasn’t the first time I’d heard it; my skiing/running friend Rick tells me that I’m the Rip van Winkle of x-c skiing. I skied in the late ’70s and early ’80s then essentially stopped for 25+ years. I learned to ski before start-to-finish skate skiing took off in the mid-80s, which probably explains my old fashioned style.

For the afternoon session, I took a skating clinic. It was my first time on skate skis, and I learned basic V1 and V2. It felt pretty awkward at first, but after 20 minutes or so, the rhythm came pretty easily. I’m hoping for some decent snow so I can give it another shot.

Loving the new Fischers

The key speaker for the NENSA event was Lea Davison, an Olympic Mountain Biker whose winter training is built around x-c skiing. Lea shared a bit about her experience in London last summer. In a cyclingdirt interview, she talks about her Olympic race: cyclingdirt interview. For our gathering of over 200 women, she gave an entertaining insider’s view of the Olympic experience. I was surprised to hear that the first step after making the Olympic team was to fly South for media training. After that, Lea was flown to Washington DC to meet President Obama, first lady Michelle, Vice President Joe Biden, and the other Olympians, including Michael Phelps (who leaned across the buffet table to ask Lea  about an eggplant dish). She spoke about hearing jets flying over the Olympic Village, then realizing that the sound was the cheering from the Track & Field stadium! Perhaps the oddest scoop was that there was a McDonalds in the Olympic village, which always had a line.

The weekend did leave me with a gear question. As my miles go up in running and skiing, I’ve been contemplating hydration. Over the weekend, I was thinking a small Camelbak pack might be a necessary piece of gear. On reflection, I think it would work for skiing, but for running, it lands in the same category as arm warmers: ridiculous for anyone but the elites. For now, I’ll eat snow and stash water bottles. Still pondering the pack for x-c.

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