the new normal // Life during covid-19
I started running at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. My first run ever recorded was on March 30th in the year 2020. At the time, I was a sophomore in college looking forward to my spring break. On Friday, March 13, 2020, with the sudden outbreak of the COVID-19 virus, we were given an extra day off and with that, the majority of students, including me, left campus for our one-week long spring break. Shortly after, we were notified that the university would be giving us an additional week of spring break as the university monitored the rapidly evolving pandemic that would soon ravage the world. Three days later on March 16th, spring break began and I could not have been more excited to have a much-needed break from my courses after finishing my midterm exams. Little did I know that the entire world would shut down just a few days later.
When the university informed all students to stay safe over spring break, I didn’t think too much of it. When my mom told me to wear a mask every time I stepped outside, I dismissed it as her just being overprotective. I just went about my daily life and thought when spring break ended, I would return back to campus and resume my college life like normal.
Normal. That word would soon take on an entirely new meaning.
As soon as I arrived back home, my mom kept calling me, urging me to stay indoors and not spend time with friends over the break. I really thought she was exaggerating and being dramatic. I thought that it wouldn’t be possible for the federal and state governments to force over 7 billion people in the world to wear masks outside. I asked myself how they would be able to prevent everyone from leaving their homes. I questioned how large of an impact this virus could have on my day-to-day life. But unbeknownst to me, day by day, the virus was evolving. Every single day, more and more cases were being reported. The news channels all suddenly started reporting on the virus that was now escalated to an worldwide pandemic. Masks were mandated by federal, state and local governments. Businesses shut down as required by law, and we were only allowed to go out to purchase groceries, which were always out of stock in grocery stores as families prepared for what appeared to be a global apocalypse.
Amidst the chaos, I was still excited to go back to campus, still naively believing that things would return back to normal. In my mind, the virus was still worlds away. We hear news all the time about current events happening across the world, and I thought the virus was just another instance. Wuhan seemed so far from my immediate communities, so far from my home. However, in a matter of days, the virus would move from the city of Wuhan to the state of Washington, and then quickly spreading all across America. The pandemic came to my city, affecting the lives of my friends and my family. My entire life as I knew it had changed.
Because, much to my shock, on March 20, 2020, just 7 days after we all returned home, we received news from the President of the University that we would be transitioning to online teaching for the remainder of the semester. We were all required to move out of our residence halls on campus, not knowing when we would return. That same week, my parents’ restaurant shut down, which eliminated my family’s sole source of income. My aspirations for my sophomore year of college vanished with a blink of an eye. And now all of a sudden, I had to come face to face with the reality of my past that I had been running away from. The virus that I dismissed as too far away had hit too close to home.
With my mom moving back home, constant arguments that resulted, my independence and freedom threatened, loneliness for several months without any close friends, disdain for my major and courses, a lack of purpose with the futility and fragility of life, I was reminded of what my life in high school was like. Not only did I look forward to college to start anew, wipe my life clean to start painting on a blank canvas, I felt I needed college. It would be my escape, my way out. I had all these expectations, hopes, and dreams for what my new life would look like. I dreamed of having so many new friends, being the popular girl on campus, loving my college courses, being an ambitious, confident student in the business school, leading and participating in so many extracurriculars, and so much more.
But with COVID falling in the middle of my sophomore year, I returned home after a year and a half at college, and I realized not much had changed. I was now a sophomore in college, but I was still as lonely as I had been back then. I still was so incredibly insecure. I was still as purposeless as my life was back then. I still had no clarity on what my career looked like, my interests and disinterests, and the people that would be my lifelong friends – the ones who would stand beside me on graduation day, my wedding, hospital beds, housewarming parties, baby showers, and would cry with me at funerals.
AN ESCAPE FROM HOME
It was too much for me to bear. I remember having this burning desire to get out, to run away from my home, and escape from my life with all its worries, and from myself. At the time, exercising outdoors was one of the only permissible reasons to leave the house. So I just threw on my old beat-up Nike Free Runs and left. Living in DC, I knew it was about a mile to the Washington Monument, so I decided to run in that direction. It was hard, much harder than I expected. I had always been a somewhat average runner but never with any formal or consistent training. All throughout, I kept thinking “Why do people run? How could this ever be enjoyable? People actually run because they like it? When is this going to be over? Where is the Monument? Is a mile really this long? Just 30 more seconds. Please be a red light.” I wanted to stop so many times. The mile seemed so long and I was out of breath the entire time, but when I finally arrived at the Monument and stopped, I felt the endorphins immediately. After being cooped up in the house, to breathe in the fresh air while seeing the beautiful city that I had grown up in was so incredibly freeing.
The next day, I was so sore, but as soon as I woke up, I laced up my Nike Free Runs again. And then two mornings later, I laced them up again. An activity that I did maybe once a month before became 3-4 times a week. Gradually, I began to increase my distance from the Washington Monument to the Lincoln Memorial, adding about 2 miles to my entire run, once mile each way. And that became my route – my 4 mile-long run at 9am in the morning. Occasionally, I would also run around DC, to the Capitol Building, to Eastern Market, to Navy Yard. I was running through areas of the city that I had walked through and some I had never explored before during my years growing up in the city. Those endorphins were soon released during the run too, which I would later find out was universally known as the runner’s high.
falling in love
Running became my thing. And it felt good. I got faster, and others would comment on my speed and endurance. For once in my time, I felt like I actually worked hard toward something and was good at something. I pushed myself every time I ran, even in the middle of summer when temperatures were above 90 degrees. I loved pushing myself past the dread, the exhaustion, the runners high, and the final sprinting towards the end that made me feel like I was soaring and on top of the world.
And that’s how I began running. That’s how my running journey began. My road to becoming a runner. From that point on, I was a runner. And the rest is history. Just kidding – there is so much more to my story. My running journey has been tumultuous, and it’s a journey that I’m still on today. Like most things I fall in love with, I develop an obsession. Running became an addiction. And no, it wasn’t a good one. I needed to stop running for awhile to fall in love with it again. I’ll write about the things runners don’t talk about on my next post titled “The Dark Side of Running.” Stay tuned! Thanks for reading 🙂