A few weeks ago, on a run with Kritta and the Vizslas, we (Krista and I, the dogs did not participate) got to talking about why we run.

Someone had asked her why she does it…if she even really enjoys it.  Initially, that answer was, “no” — for both of us. We complained about how you dread doing it. Sometimes it doesn’t feel all that great, no matter how far into a run you get. And how, especially when you’re training, you’re a slave to a schedule, which was what had happened a few weekends before when, slated for a 13-miler, we set out anyway even though it was pouring rain and 40 degrees.

That is, we started out complaining about that run. But the more we talked about it, the more our comments shifted from, “Wow did that ever suck” to “It wasn’t really that bad, and it was 13 miles we never would’ve gotten in otherwise, and we felt so darn good afterwards.”

And thus, the conversation turned to the benefits of running — of how that (and dogs) get you to embark on runs in weather you would never otherwise brave. Or take you past sights off the beaten path everywhere from Florence (Italy, not Wisconsin) to Dublin to New York when you’re forced to get miles in. Or how running just straight-up gives you that oh-so-addictive “I’ve endured and conquered; I’m tough” feeling after a session of hill sprints, intervals, or long runs.

And these things? They’re powerful things to have in your life. Good things. Things to cherish.

And then there was this past weekend, which made me forget all about The Joy of Running.

I had an 18-miler on the books.  And I don’t think that anyone ever looks forward to running 18 miles (or, I don’t know any of them if they exist), but I really didn’t want to do it.

I did, though. I set my alarm. I got myself up and dressed and out the door at the crack of dawn. And I ran, stopping only at the aid stations set up every two miles by the amazing people from Prevea who do this for free, for those training for Cellcom, every Saturday morning in Green Bay (they are angels).

But things never clicked. Although I didn’t feel outright terrible during the run, I never felt good, per se. At the very last aid station, two miles from the end point, two women about my age saw me stretching and asked if this was my first marathon. I told them it wasn’t, and then laughed (mostly to myself ), saying that surprisingly, it hasn’t gotten one shred easier after a few marathons. If anything, it’s gotten harder.

Later that night, driving to dinner with Chief of Stuff along the same route I had just run that morning, exhausted and sore, I surprised myself again by blurting that I wasn’t sure I had another marathon in me. “That’s okay,” he said.

It’s not, though. Not only am I paid up for two marathons (Green Bay in May and the Marine Corps Marathon in October), but I don’t know that I’m ready to throw in the towel, either.

In short, though, I’m struggling. With motivation. With weighing the costs of things like not being able to sleep on my left side after a long run because my hip is giving me serious grief, versus the benefits of knowing that I sucked it up already, quit whining, and got it done. Or the fact that I’ve come to realize that even if that week’s long run is only a few hours’ commitment, the after-effects of it stay with me almost for the rest of the weekend, and not in a good way.

So I’m back to that simple, one-word question that we first started with: Why?  And, another one added to it: How? How do I go forward from here? Should I stick this out, out of determination and sheer stubbornness, despite the nagging pain in my hip and foot that don’t seem to go away, and despite my lack of drive overall? Do I call it good enough, enjoy the next few spring weekends, and just turn in a solid run for the half-mary? Or do I try to run harder and smarter — getting more serious about my recovery and doing this more by the book (icing, rest,  rolling, yoga, massage etc) for the five weeks that remain — motivation be damned?And perhaps one other: When? When do you know that your body just complaining — doing a little venting, if you will, and that these aches and pains are nothing to worry about — versus telling you that it’s only one more 20-miler away from breaking down completely?

So many questions. So few answers…

So I was out for a run in Wisconsin’s great outdoors yesterday…well, not exactly in the “great” outdoors; more like and and around Madison. Yet, the run was not on a treadmill, and was officially outdoors, and thus, “great.” (If you, like me, have spent the past couple of handfuls of months on the dreaded ‘mill as it takes turns snowing and sleeting and raining outside, only to freeze all over the sidewalks and roads, the whole time wanting to bang your head against the treadmill display out of boredom and crying, “Why me, God? Why?” then you know where I’m coming from.)

So, yesterday, the pooches and I headed out for a quick 6-ish miler, and along the way, the following conversation took place:

Old man (in his 80’s, very few teeth) waiting at a bus stop:”They give you a run for your money,” referring to the Vizslas.

Me, pulling out ear buds: “That they do…they definitely keep me on pace.”

Old Man: “No, I meant that they give you a run for your money in the looks department — I don’t know who catches my eye more, you or those beautiful dogs.”

Umm, thanks? …I think?

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And they lived happily ever after...

And they lived happily ever after...

All photographs by Heidi Lee Photography. Heidi and her husband are the most amazing photographers/artists I’ve every seen or worked with.  If you’re interested in seeing more, click here.

Dear Erin,

Congratulations! You are now registered for 2009 Ironman Lottery Program. Please check the event’s official website for updates: http://www.ironman.com

The 2009 Ford Ironman World Championship will be held on October 10th in Kailua-Kona, HI. The Ironman Lottery results will be posted on April 15th, 2009 at 12:00 pm EST on www.ironman.com.

Lord help me.

Not so much as in “dedicated”…more along the lines of “I should be.”

So, I’m back, and all married off, but more on that later…

One week ago tonight, I had just reached out to take my passport back from the customs agent, my skin was still aglow with the buttery Mexican sun I had been lounging in for the past few days, and I was still of the opinion that (after almost a week away from it) winter in Wisconsin wasn’t all that bad, when my phone rang. It was my sister.

After a few pleasantries, she said, “We’re doing Green Bay. Training starts Monday.”

“We?”

“You and me,” she said.

I had no plans of running a marathon until October of 2009, which is when the Marine Corps Marathon that I’m already pre-registered for is going to be….and even that I’m frankly not truly looking forward to.  In fact, I had recently told Chief of Stuff that I was looking forward to months and months of glorious post-wedding and post-teaching-two-classes-in-my-”spare”-time non-compulsory activity…to just straight up doing nothing on the weekends.

And I surely had no plans of ever running Cellcom again. Every year for the past three I’ve done that race, and each time I say with great emphasis and conviction, “Never again!” (Nothing against race organizers — you put on a fantastic event! Really. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just personally not crazy about the scenery or miles upon miles of concrete that seems to wreck havoc on my body).

But for some godforsaken reason, I said yes.

Maybe it was the daily exercise of having to don a bikini amidst a sea of size zero-zero college girls on my mini-honeymoon after being home for the holidays for a couple weeks.  Perhaps is was out of a show of moral support to my sister, a recovering smoker who signed up for this  — her second — marathon as a strategy to keep herself on the wagon. Or, maybe it is because deep down, I won’t feel as though I’ve “earned” the right to sit on my front porch in May — as I promised myself last year that I’d do — and cheer on the Madison Marathoners as they run by without having done 26.2 myself, first (This, unfortunately is the way my brain works. It’s scary in there).

It also has to do, a little bit, I think, with the desire to shed a little poundage — about 10 to 15 in the spirit of full disclosure — for this coming triathlon season, as the last time I remember feeling good in my own skin was when I was training for the Madison marathon a few years back.

Whatever the case may be, I start my official training tonight with a little speed work, courtesy of the FIRST program.

Gulp.

Despite knocking off a couple marathons, half marathons, and an Ironman in the past, for some reason, I’ve developed a serious fear of the marathon. But I’m not afraid of the training — that, I enjoy. And I’m not afraid of being able to cover the distance — because I’ve done it before.

No, I’m afraid of two very specific things: 1) being slow, and 2) being bored. Or, perhaps more accurately: being slow because I’m bored …and unmotivated.

Oh, and the mind-numbing, searing pain I always seem to get in my legs post-race. But that’s a long way off and maybe I’ll quit being such a slave to fashion and try out a pair of those hideously-ugly compression socks that seem to be all the rage.  Or maybe not. But like I said, long way off.

I feel a huge amount of pressure at this point to be faster. To set a PR. To attempt a sub-four-hour marathon. And that, I think, has contributed to some great anxiety on my part.

And after a week’s worth of agonizing over it, I have decided to release myself from all this angst. Mainly, I am giving myself permission to run without a time goal. I will train consistently, I will not use the training as an excuse to justify eating what I want (this is a new and novel concept for me), I will support my sister, and I will have fun. That is it. That is all.

And along the way, I’m hoping that I can re-discover the joy of just running, because to be honest, it’s been a slog lately. (And by lately I mean at least a year.) I’m hoping to re-discover how good it feels to run without obsessively checking one’s Garmin every 30 seconds. How good it feels to just run, and not having the euphoric feeling of completing a 10, 15, or 18-miler ruined because your mile splits are 10 seconds off what they were the previous week.

And I’m hoping that this isn’t taking the easy way out. That it’ll help my head in the long run (no pun intended). That it’s a good plan.

But, considering a marathon wasn’t even on my radar a week ago, I figure any plan, at this point, is a good plan.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a running buddy.  In fact, it’s been almost as long as I’ve posted.

(brief tangent: for the one person out there waiting with bated breath for a new post [Hi mom!...actually I don't even think she cares much]), I just haven’t been feeling the blogging of late. It’s been a case of nothing much to say, and to be honest, even less time to say it. Between a wedding in — gah! — two weeks, the end-of-semester grading onslaught, and the holidays…oh, and holding down a full-time job, too…it’s been about as much as I can do to drag myself out of bed in the morning [at 5:00 most days lately...more on that later] and back into it at night. I think/hope this will all change in the new year, when I more or less get my life back. Ok, end tangent.)

But I love this time of year. I especially love running this time of year. Call me crazy, but there’s just something about being out in the dark (because the only time I think I actually see the sun is on the weekend or on my way to work in the morning) and quiet, surrounded by white, your footfalls muted — crunching lightly instead of pounding on hot pavement.

It’s also the only time of year that I run just to run. To get out of the house and breate some fresh, sharp air into stagnated lungs. There are no races on the horizon, no training paces to maintain, no specific amount of miles to log. It’s just me, a pair of shoes, a pair of dogs, and the road. And if I’m lucky, there’s an extra pair of shoes involved.

Because the best runs of the off-season are those done with a buddy. On a weekend morning, with no idea of how far you’re going to go that day, or how fast. When the thing is not far/fast, but catching up — the same as some do over coffee or wine. When the thing is not second-guessing yourself about split times and how today is going to play into the race coming up, but where you’re going to go have brunch after the run. When the thing is just to be there — outside, running beside someone.

The first run Krista and I ever did together was in the winter. We hadn’t met beforehand. At all. Ever. In that way, it was very much first-date-ish.

But over the course of a leasurely seven miles, we chatted about topics that it would take new acquantances months of coffee-klatching to broach: her unraveling marriage, my ex of six years, when/where/why both relationships went south, what we hoped for in the “after” of both, our families, jobs, and on and on.

Because that’s how it is with running buddies.

There isn’t one woman whom I’ve run with regularly who I’m still not in touch with, who still holds a special place in my heart. I don’t completely understand it — the phenomena of the running buddy — but I have absolute faith in it.

Because there’s just something about covering a handful of miles next to someone…about having a person to listen to and contradict (or, even better, comiserate in) my bitching about said running…about getting lost in conversation with them to the steady one-two hum of a synchronized footfall…about learning how to push yourself, and learning when doing a little pushing is not warranted, but necessary…about sharing those breaths, those steps, those miles.

Or, as the author of this wonderful, must-read-for-running-buddies-everywhere, says, “Any friendship that is based on running is, in essence, about accrual-of time, of miles, of intimacy built over a lot of small steps forward. It sneaks up on you that way, I think. It can seem merely enjoyable until you need it for more.”

Or when it’s gone.

For the time being, I run alone. And I hope that will eventually change. Not just becuase I want it to, but because I need it to.

And for my running buddies at large, I miss you and love you. You know who you are.

gb5

Clearly, I’ve been away for a while. And this happens this time of year when there are no races to report on and triathletes seem to go into hibernation mode. But one seems prone to going MIA especially when this time of year also happens to coincide with the two college courses I’m teaching and the wedding we’re trying to pull off in, oh, about a month or so now. And did I mention that I’m also leaving my house at 5:05 a.m. daily to try and whip myself into shape a la bootcamp?

And yes, I’m fully aware that I’m insane.

The thing is, most people who wake up at 5 a.m. go to bed at a reasonable hour. Me? Not so much.

Mostly that’s due to the fact that, once I get home from teaching my night class anywhere from 8:30 to 9 pm, eat dinner, get my things ready for the following day, and get ready for bed, it’s usually well past 10:30.

And complicating factors lately? Twilight.

I can’t put it down.

For those of you not in the know, Twilight is the story of two teenage star-crossed lovers: Bella, a somewhat klutzy, but smart, endearing, and brave girl who moves from Arizona where she lives with her mom to the Olympic Peninsula of Washington to live with her dad; and Edward, the love of her “existence” who just happens to be a vampire. They can’t be together, but they can’t stay away from one another either. It’s chuck full of angst, action, self-sacrifice, and more angst.

Cheesy, right? I mean, if someone would’ve pitched me on this series with the paragraph above, I would’ve run away from it screaming. I don’t do fantasy, I don’t do young adult stories, and I sure as hell don’t get into vampires. None of the above have just never held my interest — even when I was a teen.

So can someone please tell me how I’ve gotten so completely sucked into this saga that I now carry the book with me at all times so I can read a few pages while I’m waiting for my morning Fourbucks, or while filling my car with gas, or at night, during the time I would have usually been watching Rachael Maddow, or catching up with Chief of Stuff after a long day, or…sleeping.

I’ve tried analyzing it. It’s not a knockout book the way some of my other favorites are: artfully weaving words together in a way I could never dream of doing. And like I said, it’s about vampires. Not my thing in the least.

But when I say I can’t put it down, I honestly can’t. Not “I won’t” or “I’d rather not.” Honestly, I try, and then, just like a crack addict looking for just one last fix, I say, “Just one more page” or “Just one more chapter, and then I’ll [go make dinner, go to bed, fill in blank here].” And before I know it, I’m another 100 pages down the road. I get annoyed with people who try to talk to me while I’m reading it. I read while on the phone with people. And the other day, I even sneaked a peak at a few pages or so whilst on an incredibly boring conference call at work. (I no longer bring the book into work with me, FYI. Just not safe.)

So for anyone who’s read Twilight, what is it about these books that is so alluring, so addicting? Because I just can’t figure out the hold it has — not only on millions of screaming and swooning teenage girls across the country — but on me: a rational, intelligent, adult. And for anyone who hasn’t yet read it, go grab a copy and report back tomorrow. You’ll be done with the book by then, I guarantee it.

vote2

So, last weekend was the Marine Corps Marathon. The one that I decided to do with Mel and Krista. And then didn’t do (but neither did Mel, so I don’t feel as bad for totally ditching out on poor, dedicated Krista).

But, we had bought plane tickets waaay back in August when I was still successfully pounding out 18 and 20-milers all (whilst running from bears at the same time), and so, we went to DC anyway.

Really, when you talk someone into running a marathon with you, in DC, and then bail, its pretty much the least you can do to show up and cheer them on.

And cheer we did. Chief of Stuff, Melanie, and I braved the early-morning cold (and I mean re-ally early…and re-ally cold) to see Krista off.

I don’t think I’ve ever spectated a marathon before, and it was really interesting…and fun. A few observations:

  • Holy hell are the 3:30 and under people fast! Like, noticeably fast. I was amazed. And also quite certain that my legs will never move that quickly in a marathon…or perhaps even in a 5k. Seriously, how do people run that fast? How???
  • You can easily tell the people that have put the time in and who are running their race, and those who totally skimped on training and are winging it. Easily. Like in a split-second.
  • Please, please, please — no old guys in short-short running shorts. I mean, it was actually HANGING OUT! Wrong. So, so wrong. On so many levels. I’m forever scarred.
  • Whereas with Ironman, there were compression socks damn near everywhere, I only saw a lonely, funny-looking pair or two at MCM. What gives? I was expecting them to be everywhere.
  • I understand there are obvious answers to this question, but really, if you’re 100 lbs soaking wet, have washboard abs, and can afford to wear a skimpy sports bra and up-to-there matching running skirt with no jiggle, why? I mean it’s an awesome accomplishment and all, but if I looked like that you can bet your ass that I’d be putting down a grand slam at Denny’s instead of sweating and grinding my way through 26.2 miles (perhaps, though, therin lies the rub…) Just sayin’.
  • There are several hundred, if not thousand, people who, although they look like they could barely run a block, could have and would have easily kicked my ass. I think this was God telling me to stop judging people I see when driving or running around town. Point taken, Big Guy. Point well taken.
  • Spectating is HARD WORK. I know I made fun of my mom for saying how exhausted she was after Ironman, but I now have a new appreciation for how tiring it is to be an official cheerleader. We hardly had time for coffee or breakfast (hard times, I know. Nevermind that Krista was hauling herself up and down the hills of the unrelenting MCM course in the freezing cold at the time…), and after 6+ miles of walking, map-reading, and guesstimating Krista arrival times, I was actually sore the next day. True story. I blame part of that on my hideously-worn-out Teva sandals I keep wearing in refusal to believe they’ve actually compacted to 1/4 of their previous cushiness, but hard work nonetheless.

That said, HUGE congrats to Krista. This girl is a machine. Seriously. For her fourth marathon, she arrives in DC right about 12 hours before toeing the starting line, powers through 26.2 in oh, about 4.5 hours, and then — THEN — happily walks a couple miles from the starting line, up through the chute for the finishers, and over into Georgetown where our car was parked. And then, when CoS suggested eating at the Tombs (which was an excellent call, btw. Great eggs benny.), up-hill from where we were, Krista doesn’t say a peep. She followed all that up by walking around for a good 5 hours in the rain the next day touring the monuments and such. (See her fantastic photo essay in which CoS and I make a cameo appearance or two here).

So, I’m signed up for this thing next year, and although I told Mel and CoS after we saw Krista off, “Geeze, I didn’t want to say this in front of Krista, but I’m sooooooooooooooooooooo glad I’m not running this thing,” I feel as though I’m ready for next year. Or, at least, I will be when it rolls around.

There’s just something about DC itself — all the history for one…and fond memories of the semester I lived there — but this race is also pretty special. You see throngs of people with shirts of loved ones — servicemen and women — who have been killed in action. One that sticks out was a mother who had a picture of her son, underneath which read, “My marine. My son. My hero,” and under that the date that he died.

And then you have the veterans, whom, home from the war missing limbs and likely so much more, battle through those 26.2. One vet, missing both legs, had wheeled his way through the marathon by hand until the last 400 yards or so — the first 300 or so of which are defined by first a sloping, and then a short, steep climb (yes, it’s a marathon that ends with running up a hill. How more Marine could you possibly get? Hard core, I tell you. Hard core.) — when he and a fellow runner each grabbed a side of his hand-cart and carried it to the top of the hill and through the finish line.

There was the Marine who ran all 26.2 in his fatigues and boots.

And then there was the Marine who, having lost his running-buddies somewhere along the way, stopped just before the finish and waited. And waited. The announcer asked him what he was doing, why he wasn’t finishing. “I still have men back there,” he said.

“So you’re a Marine?” the announcer asked. “And you don’t ever leave a man behind, right? Semper fi?”

“Oo-rah,” the Marine said, and gave me chills.

I experienced much the same feeling at the Ryan Jerakbek Challenge back in August. That, as I commented to Krista after watching the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Solider, just being in the presence of these men and women can make one feel like an instant slacker. To think that for the average person, running a marathon is a giant act of dedication and perseverance…but to those in uniform who have embraced the very real possibility of making the ultimate sacrifice for our country, or to those who loved someone and then lost someone to that ultimate sacrifice, running a marathon pales in comparison. It’s a humbling, awe-inspiring thing. Forget Hollywood stars — these men and women are the real celebrities (and I mean that in the most sincere way, not in the McCain-Calls-Obama-a-Celebrity-sort-of-way). The saying on the shirts of so many runners and military families out there truly says it all: “If not me…then who?”

You can agree with the war or not agree with the war, but if that sort of pure sacrifice doesn’t bring you right to your knees in thanks and awe, I’m not sure what would.

So next year, I’ll heed Krista’s advice not to shoot for a time goal given the packed-ness of the race, and I will instead shoot for just participating…being there…and experiencing it all from the point of view of my running shoes.

And now, I’m honestly looking forward to it.

…Even that last hellish-looking hill.

I detest what you write, but I would give my life to

make it possible for you to continue to write.”
~Voltaire

There is a disturbing trend at work this election season.

It’s not the myriad of negative ads run by each campaign. No, we see those every election cycle, ad nauseum.

It’s not the smears and distortions, because unfortunately, those too have become par for the course in politics.

It’s not the gamesmanship being played by both sides while the U.S. economy slips into a tailspin, its health care system teeters on the brink, and its foreign policies and the ensuing results are as complicated as they’ve ever been.

No, it’s none of these things that worries me…that literally has literally woken me in the middle of the night as of late.

Rather, it is the demonization of the press during this election cycle that has me at times, ranging anywhere from bothered to downright furious.

We have a long, proud history in this country of a free, unfettered press. So much so that it is often referred to as the “Fourth Estate” or the “Fourth Branch” of government for the checks that it performs on the other branches and political candidates for office in those branches. As Thomas Jefferson said long ago, “The only security of all is in a free press. The agitation it produces must be submitted to. It is necessary to keep the waters pure.”

Fast-forward about 200 years to today — to the last handful of weeks to be exact — where US citizens have been treated to an open war on the nation’s press as it attempts to vet a candidate for Vice President who has never before stepped foot on a national stage. Who has never done a national press conference. Who has never faced a press corps even half the size of that in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, or any of the nation’s other mid-sized cities. Who has never sat down on Meet the Press — a time-honored tradition in this country for candidates for high offices. Who refuses to let reporters do anything but a “photo spray” during her first ever meeting with world leaders at the United Nations, and has granted only two interviews with journalists at all since her pick (to be fair, she did also sit down with Sean Hannity of Fox News, but it’s hard to count a sit-down with a television and radio personality who makes his living as a right-wing pundit as a “journalist” in the truest sense of the word).

And when those two interviews — with Charlie Gibson of ABC and Katie Couric of CBS — were widely panned by liberals and conservatives alike as “disastrous,” “embarrassing,” and exhausting the “cringe reflex,” Palin did not humbly admit that she had, perhaps, bitten off more than she could chew, or at the very least admit that she was a rookie at handling the national stage and perhaps didn’t have as much time and opportunity to prep for it as other candidates in the race.

No. Instead, she piled on the news media for being “gotcha” journalists with a “gotcha” agenda. Said she was “annoyed” with Couric for asking her questions meant to help vet Palin and not letting her talk about her opponent’s record.

Charles Gibson — who’s professionalism and impartiality has garnered him the respect of such world leaders as to earn one-on-one sit downs with President Bush, Kofi Annan, Nelson Mandella, Tony Blair, Yasir Arafat, and the late Yitzhak Rabin’s wife, Leah, who agreed to an interview with him just hours after her husband’s funeral…who was awarded a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Humanities, the Paul White Award from the Radio and Television News Directors of America, and the Fred Friendly First Amendment Award from Quinnipiac University…whose coverage of the election of Pope Benedict earned ABC a duPont-Columbia Award…and who was chosen as a debate moderator for a 2004 Kerry-Bush faceoff.

And Katie Couric — someone who I’ve never considered a hard-boiled journalist, but rather someone much more suited for personal interest or entertainment type interviews, like those she did during her time on the Today Show with the likes of J.K. Rowling, John F. Kennedy, Jr., or Robin Williams.

These are Palin’s “gotcha” journalists.

(Really?)

And here is a smattering of the “gotcha” questions asked by them:

  • Do you agree with the Bush doctrine?
  • You’ve said, quote, “John McCain will reform the way Wall Street does business.” Other than supporting stricter regulations of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac two years ago, can you give us any more example of his leading the charge for more oversight?
  • You’ve cited Alaska’s proximity to Russia as part of your foreign policy experience. What did you mean by that? Explain why that why that enhances your foreign-policy credentials.
  • You met yesterday with former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, who is for direct diplomacy with both Iran and Syria. Do you believe the U.S. should negotiate with leaders like President Assad and Ahmadinejad?
  • You recently said three times that you would never, “second guess” Israel if that country decided to attack Iran. Why not?
  • And when it comes to establishing your worldview, what newspapers and magazines did you regularly read before you were tapped for this to stay informed and to understand the world?
  • Why, in your view, is Roe v. Wade a bad decision? What other Supreme Court decisions don’t you agree with?
  • Gov. Palin, you said the U.S. should absolutely launch cross-border attacks from Afghanistan into Pakistan … almost the exact position that Barack Obama has taken and that you, Sen. McCain, have criticized as something you do not say out loud. So, Gov. Palin, are you two on the same page on this?

These are the “gotcha” questions of the “media elite” out to discredit Palin and McCain because they are running a campaign of reform.

Nevermind that Charlie Gibson himself asked Barak Obama, back in January, about the Bush doctrine, that he asked it of the Republican candidates during their January primary debate in New Hampshire, or that the very same subject was discussed at length during the primary coverage as a whole…or that one of Palin’s policy advisers was instrumental in creating the doctrine itself. And nowhere along the line did anyone mention anything about it being a “gotcha” question.

Nevermind that in this, a time of global unrest that the country hasn’t seen in decades, the above-mentioned journalists are asking the candidate standard questions about foreign policy qualifications and views on middle eastern diplomacy. Or after she said that she was not privileged enough to travel abroad (my word not hers, although she did say, “I worked all my life” and was not “one of those who maybe came from a background of kids…whose parents give them a passport and give them a backpack and say go off and travel the world.”) and said that her perspective on the world came through reading, was asked the seemingly reasonable follow up question, later on, of what newspapers or magazines, specifically, she has read that have helped shape her worldview. Nevermind that this person — the running mate of a 72-year-old with melanoma who released 1,200 pages of medical records — could have either an advisory or direct role in nominating Supreme Court justices should this ticket be elected and that we, the American people, might want a glimpse of how she views the court and some of the decisions its made besides Roe v. Wade.

Palin herself even told Couric that “It would be sexist if the media were to hold back and not ask me about my experience, my vision, my principles, my values.” She went on to say, “I am so happy to talk to reporters…and very happy for more opportunities to do so.”

Yet, the McCain-Palin camp went on record saying that the Veep candidate will not sit for interviews until the media showed her the appropriate level of “respect and deference.” And since the Gibson and Couric interviews, she has not done any additional interviews (other than those with right-wing radio or Fox News), and has not taken any questions from the press corps traveling the trail with her, or the press at her events.

Not only that, but in a seemingly unprecedented move, the press at her stops in Florida yesterday were not even allowed to mingle with supporters there.

And to take it one step further, members of the media were openly accosted. As Dana Milbank reported for The Washington Post, “Palin’s routine attacks on the media have begun to spill into ugliness.”

In Clearwater, arriving reporters were greeted with shouts and taunts by the crowd of about 3,000. Palin then went on to blame Katie Couric’s questions for her “less-than-successful interview with kinda mainstream media.” At that, Palin supporters turned on reporters in the press area, waving thunder sticks and shouting abuse. Others hurled obscenities at a camera crew. One Palin supporter shouted a racial epithet at an African American sound man for a network and told him, “Sit down, boy.”

This, more than anything else, makes my blood run cold.

You see, I’ve dabbled in journalism enough to know how vital the Fourth Estate is to the shoring up (to borrow a Palinism) of democracy. I’ve worked in politics long enough to know that journalists not only have the right, but the unequivocal duty, to barrage any candidate for public office — not to mention the highest office in the land — with hard, tough questions in order to vet these candidates on behalf of the public. And I’ve been at this long enough to see, firsthand, the integrity and dogged impartiality of 99 percent of journalists I’ve come to know.

As the Seattle Post Intelligencer stated, “Folks, there are some issues that demand unpacking here, and they go far, far beyond Sarah Palin and the question of whether one supports the Republican or the Democratic presidential ticket.”

That couldn’t be more true. Because if Palin and McCain are successful in their bid for the White House, then they have set a precedent that disrespecting the media works…and works well.

And there might be no more dangerous precedent that could be set.

After all, the media has been derided for not asking tougher questions during the holocaust, during the Rwandan genocide, in the lead up to the Iraq war, prior to Enron’s collapse, and most recently, about the state of the nation’s economy and the $700 billion bailout bill that just passed. History has criticized the media that if it might have just dug a little deeper, or a little harder, it could have influenced the outcome of some of these events.

But on the flipside, the media does its job, and as Americans, we all benefit. Think Watergate, or … well, Watergate, I guess. Other examples, off the top of my head, escape me.

And perhaps therein lies the rub. As a rule, I’d argue that the media has not been tough enough.

Seriously. Enough with parity. Enough with equal time. If one campaign is going to grant access, and the other is going to stonewall, why shouldn’t we ask why they’re stonewalling? Why should they be covered equally? Or as Campbell Brown bravely stated:

When you have Candidate A saying the sky is blue, and Candidate B saying it’s a cloudy day, I look outside and I see, well, it’s a cloudy day. I should be able to tell my viewers, ‘Candidate A is wrong, Candidate B is right.’ And not have to say, ‘Well, you decide.’ Then it would be like I’m an idiot. And I’d be treating the audience like idiots.

This isn’t a partisan issue. It’s a fundamental part of what our country was founded on and who we are as Americans. Freedom of the press is one of the main things that separates the United States from a long list of other non-democratic countries.

So when a candidate for the vice presidency can’t or won’t answer a question — or a whole bunch of them — our first inclination, as informed citizens should be “Why?”, not, “Why are they piling on her?”. When the rival campaign gets more coverage as a result of greater transparency and access, our first inclination should not be to fault the media, but the opposing campaign for not be as open and accessible as possible.

McCain, Obama, and Biden have all been vetted thoroughly during this 2-year process leading up to November 4th. Obama has done hundreds of national interviews and press avails over his career. McCain and Biden’s likely number well into in the thousands.

And Palin? Two. Two interviews and a couple of questions on 9/11 as she toured the proposed memorial site, with a dash of contempt for the media throw in to most every stump speech she’s given — including that at the Republican Convention.

That’s a slap in the face to the American public, to the media, and to the long, storied history of journalism and its role in the democracy of our country.

Palin needs to set her “annoyance” aside and show a little “respect and deference” to the journalists attempting to relay to the American public just who she is and why she’s qualified to be a heartbeat away from the presidency. Not the other way around.

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