Thisarticlewas produced by Capital & Main.
It is co-published byRolling Stonewith permission.
I am alone, cold, and anxious about the state of our divided country.
Runners head west on Slauson Ave. in the first segment of the Hood Half Marathon on Feb. 9 in L.A.Cameron Venti
Since then, my mental state seems to worsen every time I plug into the national news cycle.
Running is one way I manage my anxiety, a strategy backed bypsychiatric research.
If a family member goes, the study said, they too may have to go.
Kit asks Devon Shorter, the founder ofFearless Run Club, to offer blessings for our safety and wellness.
Then, Kit reminds runners that their vehicles will be towed if they leave them in the lot.
Some are in sleek technical gear; vests with built-in water packs and shoes with thick running soles.
Others wear sweatshorts and the pirate-like Raiders jerseys of our citys former football team.
Previous generations of young people from many such neighborhoods might have inspired fear among and conflict with each other.
Some runners avoid crowding the sidewalks by running into oncoming traffic.
Kit tells me he has given up waiting for that 5.5-mile path to open.
The Black people running are aboutfive times more likelyto be unfairly stopped by police.
Hussles face remains ubiquitous in murals around L.A., often alongside Lakers legend Kobe Bryant.
I run alongside what is known as theCrenshaw Wall, a block-long, 10-foot-tall mural of Black history.
I pass Leimert Park, a center of Black Los Angeles art and culture.
John Singleton, the late director ofBoyz N the Hood, called the neighborhood the Black Greenwich Village.
Riots, but that we refer to as the 1992 uprising.
Fury erupted on the streets, which quickly devolved into burning and looting.
At mile 10, I keep pace with a trio of women.
Meanwhile, the Mexican flag continues to guide me forward.
But at this point, I am tired.
Im 45, and this is my first half-marathon.
I adjust my stride to stretch a bit in an attempt to ease the stiffness.
Like other runners across the city, I stopped training.
Now, I feel that absence of training.
I have also been feeling it in my spiking anxiety.
Marked by his death and in search of safety and stability, my family left for the U.S.
When I was later born, my parents named me George, the English-language version of Jorge.
She would warn me as a child not to talk about politics in public.
Still, as our fears and dreams attest, we feel somehow suspect especially now.
(Capital & Main previously wrote about a particularlygrave effectof this during Trumps first term.)
There are no safety signs, barricades or police escorts to protect us.
Volunteers friends, family and other runners support us along the route.
That doesnt mean it is easy.
Dee counts down the miles, reminding us: you could do it.
There are just other people who have completed the same route, welcomed by loved ones.
Folks on the Venice boardwalk could be forgiven for mistaking us for a large group of picnickers.
They dont know where weve come from or what weve overcome.
Still breathing heavily, we hug, and I thank her for running with me.
We were strangers; now we are fellow travelers cheering each other on this journey.
