Hi everyone! How are you holding up? Long gone are the days of “Good, you?” Now the answer varies; it’s a roller coaster depending on the hour. I hope this newsletter finds you healthy, safe and with clean, moisturized hands. Don’t forget to follow those multiple 20-second hand-washing sessions with some lotion. Not only do you want to keep your mitts squeaky clean, you want them soft.
You’ve probably noticed the newsletter looks a bit different. I decided to switch over from TinyLetter to Substack because I like this format and look better (I hope you do too) and it allows for more options. I want to make some changes in the future, so stay tuned. If you’re not feeling it, I won’t take offense if you unsubscribe. We had a good run (ha!) together. I started Hot Knees four years ago (HOW HAS IT BEEN FOUR YEARS ALREADY? But then again, what is time anymore?) back when I was training for my first marathon, and here we are almost 1,459 days later living under some very different circumstances. Due to the global pandemic, life as we knew it has been disrupted—I figured now’s the time to make some little changes.
Truthfully, I haven’t really been able to write much since going into self-isolation and practicing physical distancing. It’s been hard to focus in general, let alone channel all the seesawing emotions and frenzied thoughts into anything cohesive. I find the advice to churn difficult feelings and situations into creative fodder (or be “productive” or whatever other coded language there is) not only impossible but impractical. When my mind is in chaos, it’s excruciating to create. I’m mainly focused on just surviving. If you haven’t read that Harvard Business Review piece on grief, I’d suggest you do to get some understanding on the collective despair we are all feeling. It’s a struggle because the usual manner in which we mourn (coming together for support) is no longer available. Maybe after some time, I’ll be able to process what is happening and create some great piece of art. Until then, I’ll try to keep a schedule but even my running has been sporadic lately. If you’re exercising regularly, that’s amazing, but if you’re not, that’s okay too. There is no blueprint for this. We’re all dealing with it in our own ways.
In Toronto, we’re still lucky to be able to go outside and get some fresh air but it has been a teutonic shift in thinking and in habit. For one, I always thought of myself as an introvert, but I realized I need to be around people more than I ever imagined. I miss family and friends. I miss running with people. I miss sitting in parks. I also miss having the streets to myself. My sleep schedule has changed, and I get outside at different times now. While there has been less traffic overall, there have been more people out at all hours of the day, so I’ve had to adjust to a lot of weaving to avoid folks and keep six feet apart. My usual routes have also been altered because the parks, trails and cemeteries I ran through have been closed. In the grand scheme of things, this is a minor modification, and I’ll gladly do it if it means we get out of #quarantimes sooner.
My friend Lyndsie mentioned a useful metaphor for our lives right now. It’s like we’re driving in the dark. We can only see what the headlights in front can reach. We can’t barrel through because we just don’t know what lies ahead. It’s not even about controlling the outcome—frankly we can’t—but witnessing what is in the present, what we have and what we lack while we try to keep going.
With that in mind, here’s a huge thank you to frontline healthcare workers, caregivers, social workers, cashiers, delivery folks and others who are keeping the rest of us alive, stocked with medical supplies, treatment, food, other essentials, caring for those who live on the margins while putting their own lives on the line. And thanks to the artists, teachers and entertainers who are creating content for those of us lucky enough to enjoy it. As much as I’m taking stock of my life right now, I also want to take some time to dream about the future, what it could be and what changes I want to make once we come out on the other side.
Fuel for the mind
I have been reading a ton, so this section is stacked with all kinds of recommendations.
The estimated cost of postponing the Olympics is $2.7 billion US, so who foots the bill? Aliphine Tuliamuk on what the postponed Olympics means for her future and family planning. Unskilled labour does not exist. Global pandemic uncertainty lessons from a chronically-ill person. “Running is about a relationship with the world around us, but also about a relationship with ourselves,” Alexi Pappas on what her training looks like now. Kipchoge has a pretty adorable isolation video diary for BBC. He’s also pretty stylish. Isolation is changing how we look. Listening in isolation: “We’re hearing the world as people did decades ago.” Staying at home is not safe for everyone and the rise in domestic abuse is adding to the toll of the public health crisis. Cathy Park Hong and how the pandemic has unmasked a certain kind of unspoken racism. Now’s the time to burn celebrity culture. COVID-19-inspired productivity is not for everyone, and that’s ok. Seriously, now is not the time. A gorgeous rumination on writing in time of grief. “Whatever it is, coronavirus has made the mighty kneel and brought the world to a halt like nothing else could.” Thank you Ahrundhati Roy for those words. Hanif Abdurraqib’s lovely tribute to Bill Withers. Jenna Wortham and Wesley Morris are creating Still Processing from their homes, and I am thankful for that.
Fuel for the ears
Some things that have been keeping me more than alive but thriving have been live DJ sets on Instagram including ones from Questlove (also available on YouTube), D-Nice and a whole slew of playlists from pals. Thanks Anni, PDRR’s Track & Feels series, Insecure, Moshe, Momo and NORBLACK NORWHITE’s Quaranchunes mixes. There’s plenty of new music from Kraeji, Knxwledge, Thundercat, Jhene Aiko, Frank Ocean, The Strokes plus this Ari Lennox remix and a whole lotta Bill Withers.
I also recently learned about this all-girl Korean funk band called The Happy Dolls that lived in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia in the 70s. They are hella fun so take a listen to that too.
Be the raccoon but don’t forget to moisturize.
Ok, bye!
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