For better or worse, the coronavirus will change us

Nearly 25 years ago, I taught myself how to run by focusing on my breathing.

It was a very different time in my life: I lived alone, had no real career path, I was single, with no children, and I was battling depression. And so when I set out to become a runner, I figured I needed to focus less on the athletic aspects — I had been a soccer player and had certainly run before — than on mastering a disciplined breathing regimen. Two steps inhale, two steps exhale. Repeat. And, sure enough, it helped me handle the miles. Runs for me quickly became long, sweat-drenched meditations. They helped me focus.

By focusing on my breath, I learned to run. And running, it would turn out, gradually helped me emerge from my darkness by giving me something to actually do every day, providing some badly needed structure, goals and endorphins.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because we’re all trying to focus on the basics, taking one thing at a time, as a way to stay sane during this unimaginable spring of the coronavirus quarantine. Disaster can do wonders for focusing the mind, if you can avoid losing it to the darkness.

This is virgin territory for all of us, being forced to shelter in place and avoid contact with others. It’s forcing us to get creative and resourceful, since there’s nowhere to go and we must all make do with what we have, where we are. Some are better equipped for it than others; my younger, depressed self would have struggled mightily, and I worry for those who live alone, or who struggle with mental health issues.

One way I find I’m coping is through gratitude.

I’m thankful for my family, and all this unplanned, extra time I get with them. (Do we occasionally drive each other crazy and argue? Of course!) I’m grateful for the roof over our heads. I’m doing lots of cooking, eating wonderful meals that we have more time to prepare. And I’m grateful to continue to have work and things that get me out of bed in the morning and keep me busy during the days.

But I’m also grateful for things I see outside my four walls.

It’s springtime in Michigan, the days are getting longer and sunnier, the daffodils and forsythia are blooming, and every day the world fills in with more color. You can never underestimate the mental health boost of spring after a long, gray Michigan winter. Other changes, though, have nothing to do with seasonality.

Lately when I run I am struck by how many people I see out walking. Ferndale has always been a relatively vibrant walking community, but now the numbers of people out having a stroll — because face it, what else you gonna do? — easily outnumber cars on the roads. I’m seeing faces I’ve never seen in my neighborhood, and it’s wonderful, reminding me of what I love about living in cities.

Traffic volume, meanwhile, has plummeted. Woodward Avenue during rush hour looks like a Sunday morning. My street is suddenly quiet. I realize now that I used to wake up on weekdays largely from the din of commuters speeding down my street on their way to work. Now there is no rush hour on my block, and I’m sleeping in a little later as a result. It’s nice.

It’s tempting to think that the stay-at-home coronavirus quarantine is making us all take a figurative deep breath, take stock of what we have and reassess the way we live. Time has ground to a halt. It feels like a longer version of Christmas break, without the hectic family dinners, manic gift shopping and an indeterminate end point. But I think it’s giving everyone a new perspective on life and how we live it.

Do we really need to go to an office or physical workplace each day? Are we too obsessed with productivity? Does it make sense to continue working ourselves to the bone? Does our economic system really even work anymore?

Why are we always so busy running around? Do you really miss driving? Isn’t it nice to walk or ride bikes again? Doesn’t this shutdown show us that we actually can make sacrifices to mitigate climate change?

What’s really important in the grand scheme of things?

Los Angeles actually looks beautiful when the air is clean. From this, we can see the price we pay for tolerating pollution: we give away the beauty and vibrancy of the world around us, and along the way, our own. pic.twitter.com/PrrhlDhUde

— Andre Sobolewski (@AndreSobolewski) April 12, 2020

The air smells sweeter lately. Photos show Los Angeles suddenly free of smog, looking better than ever. Friends tell me they suddenly notice birds, so many birds visiting their yards, and singing! People are exercising more — again, what else you gonna do? My sister-in-law says she’s suddenly taken up running, the better to work off all the cakes and pies she’s been baking at home.

Yesterday my family and I walked up to Ferndale Project to pick up some beer I ordered online. On the way back a woman pulled up in her car and asked us if the beers I was toting were from there and could be picked up. Some neighbors told us they’ve seen a steady stream of others walking home after picking up an order there, too. People are leaving “blessing boxes” full of care packages in Detroit parks. Posting colorful signs of encouragement in their windows. Coloring messages in chalk on sidewalks. Knocking on the doors of neighbors to check in. Saying hello to each other on the streets.

Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria, etc.

None of this is meant to make light of the situation. Tens of thousands of people are dying. Nationwide, 16 million people have filed for unemployment benefits, and a lot of small businesses will not be able to survive this. There are so many looming, existential questions about what comes next, and things will no doubt change in ways we can’t possibly grok yet. We have to get through the health crisis before we can deal with the economic crisis, and that could well be scarier and more difficult.

Predictably, the backlash is brewing and quickly picking up steam. Republicans are howling that the governor’s stay-at-home order, which is backed by medical experts as the best way to save lives and prevent our health care system from a tsunami of coronavirus patients, is unconstitutional. They want the economy opened back up, now — or at least the ability to go golfing or for a cruise in their boats Up North. Some guy basically started a movement of indignant “patriots” after he visited his neighborhood big-box store, saw that he couldn’t buy seeds and tweeted ridiculously, “How am I supposed to feed my family?”

Gun sales are up. #FireFauci was trending on Twitter. The events last week in Wisconsin, where Republicans forced a primary election to go forward despite the clear health risks of voting in-person, with only five of 80 precincts open in heavily Democratic Milwaukee, were an ominous sign. President Trump has used the pandemic as an excuse to suspend enforcement of pollution laws.

Relax guys. We’re in good hands. This will be handled smoothly and wisely. pic.twitter.com/NlL3JMedlw

— Helen Kennedy (@HelenKennedy) April 13, 2020

The decades-long effort to delegitimize the news media and undermine reason itself has made this situation far more dangerous, turning an already lethal coronavirus into a weapon to force radical, partisan changes on a scared and vulnerable population. It’s terrifying that a serious health crisis has so quickly morphed into a political cudgel.

I have no idea what comes next, but calls to “re-open America” seem to be accelerating quickly and recklessly, without consideration of the consequences to public health and the economy itself. Let us hope saner voices prevail. In the meantime, it seems certain that one way or another, things will never be the same from this point forward.

From my immediate perch — a cocoon? — I see many reasons to hope that we’ll make it through this and be stronger for it, and healthier, and maybe even happier, even if it takes longer.

But just over the horizon, dark storm clouds are amassing, crackling with visceral energy.