How my 2008 trip to Washington, D.C. became something more a decade later

Me, 10 years ago, in the place I now live. 

Readers of this blog, if there are any left, will know that I am prone to (excessive?) reflection, retrospection, and nostalgia, and obsessed with anniversaries. 10-year anniversaries seem particularly potent reflection-inducers for me, perhaps because as a relatively young person, I'm still weirded out by by the fact that I am now able to start thinking of my life in terms of decades.

So all week I've been thinking about a trip I took to D.C. in 2008, exactly 10 years ago. It was my first time in the city. I went with my father, and we went to all the sights: the Mall, the Washington Monument, the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials, the National Archives, Capitol Hill, the Supreme Court, the White House (we got tours of both, thanks to Bush administration connections), Georgteown, Arlington Cemetery, Mt. Vernon, and perhaps other D.C.-area things I'm forgetting.*

At JFK's Flame 

At the Marine Corps Memorial, in front of which I would finish the Marine Corps Marathon 9 years later.

Haaaaave ya met Abe?  

At the front of the National Mall

With my father  

I stood in this very spot on Saturday

Showing state pride 

Statesmanship 

It had to be done

We also went to Annapolis to visit the Naval Academy, back when I thought I might be interested in that kind of thing. On the way back, we stopped at a theater (my father thinks it was this one) and saw The Dark Knight on opening day, which became important to me later for other reasons.

At the time, I had a vague interest in politics, stimulated by the ongoing election, which was only about to get weirder; the financial crisis of fall 2008 was still a few weeks away, though the price of oil reached an all-time high the week we were there. I didn't fully understand the world of politics, but was on the cusp of starting to. I didn't think I necessarily wanted to go into politics (whatever that means), though the 2008 election would ultimately help to change that. At the time, this was just a fun trip with my Dad.

But 10 years later, I live here. The sights I saw then I walk or run by almost every day; they haven't gone anywhere, and I know exactly where they all are, which makes it a lot easier than usual to place my nostalgia in context. It's also very easy to return to the exact same places. I mean, I live on Capitol Hill. It turns out this trip was more important than I could have possibly realized. It set in motion and prepared me for the next 10 years of my life, three of which I have now spent in D.C., with long stints during two others. That fact offers me more to ponder than the typical ruminations inspired by the mere passage of time. Among other things, it makes me wonder: What am I doing now that might actually be foreshadowing my future?

Obviously, right now I don't know. But I guess I'll find out with another ten years gone.

*But one thing I'll certainly never forget is getting rained on while walking by the Korean War memorial, and seeing the bronze soldiers there as they are meant to be seen: walking through the rain themselves.

24 no more; or, Am I still a Young Dude?

Am I still a Young Dude? 

As I turn 25, I find myself thinking about music, as I often am. From the references to the age of 25 in music, one gets the sense that is the youngest age that passes for genuinely "adult." There's David Bowie's Mott the Hoople's glam-rock anthem, in which the singer describes the plans of a "Billy":

Billy rapped all night about his suicide
How he'd kick it in the head when he was twenty-five
Don't wanna stay alive when you're twenty-five

Much like Roger Daltrey singing in "My Generation," Billy, presumably younger than 25, can't possibly imagine living to be 25. That's, like, so old, dude.

Then there's Sugar Ray's "Fly," a song that often came on the radio of my neighborhood pool when I was growing up. It's a light, catchy, reggae-influenced pop hit...that has this random line: "Twenty-five years old, my mother God rest her soul."

I've been hearing this song for almost 20 years, and I've never understood why this line was in it. I think I know what it's supposed to mean; the singer's mother died at 25, obviously. 25: Just old enough to have done something with your life (in this case, have a child), but still young enough for a life ending then to be tragic.

Finally, there's "Graduation (Friends Forever)" by Vitamin C. Another song I remember from my pool years (if somewhat more vaguely), this song imagines the experience of graduating high school from the heady haze of its aura of completion:

And so we talked all night about the rest of our lives
Where we're gonna be when we turn twenty five
I keep thinking times will never change
Keep on thinking things will always be the same

Like "All the Young Dudes," (which it references), "Graduation" imagines 25 as a far-off age, one close enough to conceptualize and understand, but distant enough to be intimidating and incredible.

Now, you may be saying I've just picked three random songs that all happen to mention the age of 25. And you'd be right! I do think, however, that they all get at something about being 25: It's an age that seems old when you're young. But now that I am 25...it feels basically the same as every age I've been since I turned 21 (especially physically; I'm basically in the same shape I've been since then). I remain in the wasteland of my ambiguous 20s.

But there is actually significance to 25 that I'm not making up just because today is my 25th birthday and I want to write about it. For today, I depart from a very special category: the 18-24-year-old demographic. Common in polls, ratings, and entertainment, the 18-24-year-old parameter is perhaps the key determinant of what these entities think a young person with money of his or her own to spend is and does. If you want to know what "the youth" are up to, you try to figure out what 18-24-year-olds are into.

As of today, that is no longer me. My opinion is no longer representative of that of a demographically "young" person (although I don't think it was, or ever has been, but that's a different matter). So what did I do in my last year of demographic, representative youth? Some decidedly non-representative things, if I do say so myself (and I will). In keeping with the trend I began last year, herewith I present, for my own indulgence and (I hope) for your edification, a summary of the highlights of my year as a 24-year-old.

-In August, after settling into my new apartment, I decided to become a cross-country coach for my local parish's grade school team. At the same time, while training for the Marine Corps Marathon, I finally ran a 100-mile week (actually 105 miles), something I came less than one mile short of doing in college.

Pictured: Not peaking in college

-In September, I entered the Navy/Air Force Half Marathon, hoping to use it as a long tempo workout. Instead, I ran what was then a PR in that distance (1:12:42, beating my Flying Pig Time from the previous May), finishing 9th.

-In October, I raced the Marine Corps Marathon, my first marathon. I ran a 2:34:29 (~5:53/mile pace), coming in 15th place.

Photo credit: Mom 

Later that month, on Halloween, I spent the evening on The Exorcist steps, where I finished reading the book at the location of its climax while conversing with locals and tourists who stopped by on that rather propitious night. I provided trivia, dramatic readings, pictures, and a warning to one fellow who walked down the steps who was either a priest or dressed like one.

The best place to be on Halloween. 

-In November, I visited New York City for the first time, doing as much of the city as I could in the time I had there. I didn't get north of the Central Park Reservoir from Marathon Man, though I did run around it.

Being a tourist. The Statue of Liberty was smaller than I expected.

Later that month, I ran Cincinnati's Thanksgiving Day Race on very little training. After spending the first two miles running conservatively and figuring out what kind of shape I was in, I worked my way up to 4th place.

I was in third, for a bit, but I was outkicked by this guy. And not for the first time...

-In December, I returned to Cincinnati to spend Christmas with my entire family, (unexpectedly!) reunited for the holiday.

I'm the one in the middle. 

I also reunited with a friend who currently lives and works with South Korea, who was back visiting for the holidays. And I ended the calendar year (a temporal interval I don't really think of my life in terms of yet) by growing a real ice beard again, for the first time since 2014.

I think this is a good look for me. 

 -In February, my family reunited once more, for a 60th birthday party for my parents that we siblings planned ourselves. It was a smashing success.

Family...again!

-In April, I attended Easter mass at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, a beautiful church in Washington, D.C. I also ran the Cherry Blossom 10-miler, this time really as a workout, and ran 53:15, coming in 46th (out of a race well in excess of of 10,000), competing for the first time (to my knowledge) against actual Olympians. I closed out the month with the release of Suicide of the West by Jonah Goldberg, a book in whose production I greatly assisted (if you have a copy, check the acknowledgements).

-In May, I won the Cincinnati Flying Pig Half Marathon, an accomplishment of which I have already written, but of which I remain quite proud. Although the post-race interview may be an even better accomplishment than the race itself.

Winning!

-In June, my half-baked, half-serious idea about starting a podcast bore fruit in the form of Young Americans, a podcast of Ricochet that I now host. You can listen to it there, and also via Stitcher and Google Play.

I did not design this logo, but I like it. 

-And in early July, thanks to the helpfully annoying insistence of a friend, I finished the rough draft of a novel that I had spent most of the first six months of the year writing on and off (which is why this blog was so inactive for the first half of this year), and much of the past 5 (!) years thinking about on and off. I am too coy to say more about it now, but I hope one day you all will be able to buy a copy.

So that was 24. All in all, a good year, one sufficiently replete with experiences that will allow me to distinguish it from the years already passed and the years to come. This being my standard for life post-graduation, I am content with having met it once more. I do not yet know what the quarter-century mark will bring (though I have some ideas). But if it is anything in quality or character like 23 or 24, then I think I'll be okay.

Although who cares what I think? I'm not an 18-24-year-old anymore. I just hope I'm still a young dude.