my one-time stint as a professional nike runner

this morning, I arrived at portland meadows at 6:50 for the 7 AM nike video shoot call. as I mentioned the other day, I answered an ad, posted by one of the local running stores, calling for women who could pass as elite high school cross country runners. the video is a promo for the nike cross nationals; it will air on the internet only (because the nationals are also only viewable online). thirty women were picked from last week's photo shoot/audition.

this whole thing was so totally surreal. I have no aspirations to be a model or actor, but I am a sucker for anything that seems like an adventure or that will make a good story. it was a kick in the pants to tell people, "oh, I won't be in the office tomorrow, I'll be doing a nike video shoot all day." how fun to get to be the talent.



the girls all arrived, checked in, filled out tax paperwork, and got our clothes for the shoot: a high school cross country uniform (from three local high schools), a pair of socks, and a new pair of nike xc victory race spikes.




we hung out for awhile inside the clubhouse, everyone in sweats and jackets. the agency that cast us had stressed again and again the importance of bringing tons of warm clothes, so everyone was bundled up and many girls had blankets. (I brought a zebra print snuggie).




when we finally headed over to the track, it was about 7:45. it was still super cold, but thankfully sunny. THANK YOU PORTLAND, SERIOUSLY. the jog across the long expanse of infield was our first of SO MUCH RUNNING SWEET JESUS



of course, we'd all been prepped that there would be a lot of running. one of the fields on the audition form even asked what our weekly mileage was. for good reason, it turned out.

we filmed in four race "locations," each a different spot along the "course." (the real nike cross nationals are weeks away, so the course hasn't actually been set up yet). the gag in the video is this: a commentator is at a desk in the middle of the course, trying to talk about the race but continuously being interrupted by the pack of girls racing. so for about 60% of the time, our runs were focused on swerving around him at his desk (or variations on that theme). our first location was a curve on the course, maybe about 50 yards long. we began running at 8:15 or so and didn't move from that spot until about 10 AM; we probably did 25 takes just running the curve. and all the running, all day, was fast. after all -- this is nationals. five minute miles. essentially: sprinting.

since it wasn't rainy, the course wasn't nearly as muddy as it would ordinarily be, so in between takes members of the crew would go over to a corner of the infield with a shovel and some buckets, dig up a bunch of mud, wheel it over in a wheelbarrow, and ask us to slather it all over our shoes and legs. this proved surprisingly difficult, because the shoes essentially REFUSED to stay dirty, and our legs dried quickly, turning the mud to powder.

also, these were the shoes we were going to take home, so everybody was a little reluctant to get them dirty!

our second take was in the series of hills built into the infield, which I happened to encounter earlier this season in the first of the red lizard cross country races, held on the nike pre-nationals course. the hills are essentially a series of four or five moguls. quick up, quick down. funny the first time I encountered them in the course, but way harder the second time.

we spent almost three hours on them.

then: lunch.

then YOU GUYS. the shot we worked on after lunch was on a straightaway in the middle of the infield, and we were joined by andrew wheating, an olympic 800m runner who's currently a nike athlete. I did not know that "run with an olympian" was on my bucket list, but: CHECK. (I was trying to also check off "pass an Olympian in a run" but that dude is fast, y'all). here is my stealth shot of him (the very tall person in the red coat).



he was a hoot. he was an "interviewer" running along with us, and he kept accidentally inserting lines like, "oh, cool," into his script. meanwhile, our pack of girls had been cut in half, since only a few runners would even show up in the shot. those of us who were running probably did 10 takes with andrew, running up and down a stretch of about 100 meters. we kept joking about alternative things we could do (he could talk in an accent, he could throw in a catch phrase like ron burgundy, etc) and so the crew let us do an 'outtake' clip, where andrew pushed a bunch of us out of the way and chased one runner the length of the course, eventually shoving her (not hard) into the course markers. we made it about 3/4 of the way through the take before we all burst out laughing.


(the ladies in a moment of down time prior to the shoot at location #3)

our last location of the day was "the mud pit." the crew had spent the morning running a hose in one corner of the infield, so that by the time we got there, the ensuing puddle was ankle deep. it was 3:15; the sun was going down and we were all getting cold again. we smeared ourselves again with mud, which turned out to be hilariously pointless, since the moment we ran our first take through the puddle, we were all saturated. meanwhile, the crew set up propane heaters so that we didn't freeze to death. everyone's feet were killing them from 8 hours spent running in spikes; most of us were stiff and cold and tired. we did another 15 or 20 takes in the mudpit before we finally called it a day. I took a shower when I got home and I STILL have mud in my hair. (which is super classy because I'm at the opera now).


the girls, all in matching shoes

overall, it was a super fun day, but we were all SO GLAD when it ended. a few hours later, I am walking with some difficulty; mainly my feet hurt, but I'm also just generally tweaky and incredibly, unbelievably tired. like, I was standing backstage waiting for my ratchet cues for figaro and I really thought, my legs might give out. eight hours is a long time to do sprints. I cannot wait to go to bed.

#19

the vaux's swifts at chapman elementary school, number #19. they are a little bit impossible to capture, being so tiny, flying at dusk.







they gather in number for awhile, swooping in great arcs and spirals before descending in a whirl down into the chimney. occasionally a bird of prey waits in hopes of dinner.

pretty night for it, huh?


(what happens if I complete my list with half a year to spare? I worry about these things.)

assorted

so! I've been back since monday morning but I guess I should tell you that the rest of the MOLA conference was also awesome: a few more sessions on various librarian-related things (dramatic rights licensing, rental houses behind the scenes), a banquet (where I did in fact eat an Omaha steak), and the SCOTCH TASTING!



despite all that scotch, and the wine at dinner, and the extra hour I stayed up talking video games with a fellow librarian, and the three hours of sleep I got before having to get up and board a plane, I managed to be a normal, functioning human being for the flight home and even went to work straight from the airport, like a good little bee.

the sun has finally made a hesitant return this week, and one night this week I came home, threw my stuff down, changed into shorts and a sweater, and strolled through the neighborhood to the grocery store. a friend commented recently that all the bright colorful foliage of the season makes her want to yell "BAM!" every time she sees it, and I understand that impulse.




everything is growing with such enthusiasm.




especially the moss.



we can finally see the sky! cue collective sense of jubilation:

vignettes

1. Driving home down Powell, I pass a man on the street somewhere around 65th who is strolling along in an enormous top hat. Just a few weeks ago, in almost the same spot, a boy of 11 or 12 was walking away from a group of his comrades wearing a Blazers jersey and a very high quality werewolf head. And werewolf gloves. He listed with a young boy swagger, which was completely deserved.

Today in the local coffee shop we spotted a guy very seriously wearing a peter pan cap, complete with feather.

2. At the barn we are working on the transition from halt to trot and halt to canter, and then back to the halt. No upward transition through the gaits, but directly from stop to go. Cookie takes almost no time to understand what I want from her; I give her an intermediate verbal cue before I ask for the halt, and she strains for the moment she is meant to brake. When I kiss and nudge her back into the canter she leaps into it so enthusiastically she nearly rides out from underneath me, and I am laughing, holding my reins loosely up her neck to let her have her head.

One morning we go on a trail ride through the back edge of the property, and when I let her run up the hill, as I know she's dying to do, she turns naughty and bucks all the way up. And yet I trust her enough afterward to ride her bareback in just her halter, and her every step is measured. I am wearing shorts, a tank top, flip flops. Without breeches I stick to her back like glue.

3. In the mornings in the kitchen I pour myself a bowl of cereal and when I turn around one of the cats is climbing the forbidden plant, a big tall palm they are quickly killing with all their forbidden climbing. I brandish the squirt bottle, return to my cereal, and when I turn around ten seconds later one of them is sitting on the kitchen table, nonchalantly, either brazen enough or dumb enough to forget that it's yet another illegal activity. By the end of most mornings I am threatening caticide, and both of the cats are soaked. Most days the note I leave Cristina on the fridge references hanging them by their tails.

In the evenings they are happy to see me, winding themselves sinuously around my legs. Tonight I lay on the rug with them and they came and snuggled; one of them happily rolled upside down and regarded me in that fashion for some time. I remind them to be grateful that their cuteness saves them on a daily basis.