Run for Oakland

On Sunday, my brother, Brian, my cousin, Mark, my sister-in-law, Melissa, and I ran the Oakland Half Marathon, while friends and fellow runners tackled the full marathon. We could not have asked for a better day for the race. Rain before, to suppress the allergens in the air; rain after, to help us feel less guilty about lazing around for a day or two. BART put us right at the start line, and we were able to jump right back on BART to take us home afterward. In between were a lot of miles of familiar territory in a great town.

Bret and I lived in Oakland for 3 years. We left the peninsula for the East Bay in 2003, and bought our first home in Oakland. We enjoyed living at the top of Fruitvale Avenue: we enjoyed the people, the food, the creek just a few blocks from our house. We walked through winding streets of beautifully old homes to a great little Italian place in Glenview the night before I went into labor with Colin (my first experience with carb-loading!), and often walked to that same stretch of shops for Saturday morning coffee or Sunday brunch. Finances and commutes ultimately pushed us further south, but we still love the area and Oakland for its richness and diversity of life.

Oakland often gets a bad rap in the Bay Area, and the slow economy only makes things worse for a struggling town. Any area that is in transition, or is on the edge of being successful, gets hit hardest when the economic scales tip even a little against it. Oakland struggles with crime, with gentrification battles, with making a strong, safe town for everyone who calls it home.

With all that struggle, why on earth hold a marathon? Because such an event gets residents out of their homes, gets locals and out-of-towners into areas they may not otherwise go. Sure, there were a few angry drivers, people unaware of the road closures who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a few distressed pedestrians who had to squeeze their way through the mass, but overall the feeling that everyone--residents and runners--were coming out "for Oakland" was strong. "Thanks for running Oakland!" and "Thanks for coming out!" were common exchanges between spectators and runners all along the course. Around each bend, we were treated to official and unofficial musical performances, snacks, water, and general support for the run. We ran through fiery arch at a soldering studio; we were cheered on by Oakland A's fans and Raiders' fans; we were sprinkled with fairy dust at Children's Fairyland. And everywhere (and what I love about running these races) were people who just stepped out of their homes and businesses, with pots and pans or just their hands, rooting us on.

As a teacher and a mother, I am more often on the sidelines cheering than I am the one being cheered for. So far, running has been the one exception, the rare occasion on which I am the one with the number pinned to my shirt. In this race, though, there was a feeling that both spectators and runners were participating in something that was not just for the runners but for the place being run. Thanks for letting us run for Oakland.