Recycling my running shoes

I run, therefore I am ... constantly going through running shoes. Before my environmental awareness was kicked into full gear, I would throw away my old (dirty, smelly) running shoes. But a few months ago when I bought a new pair of my favorite Adidas Supernovas, I held onto my old pair because I vaguely remembered hearing about shoe recycling and donation programs. For weeks and weeks now, they have been sitting in a pile of "things to blog about" as a way of reminding myself to look into that. So today when my co-worker asked the "Urban Dieter" if I knew what to do with old shoes, I didn't have an answer. My other co-worker quickly found information online about shoe recycling offered by Nike (making me feel a little embarrassed for dragging my feet on this). The Reuse-A-Shoe website says the rubber, foam and fabric in your old shoes is shredded and then used in the manufacturing of sports and playground surfaces.

I admit I've never been a Nike fan, especially since my college days when the company was accused of operating sweatshops (although in retrospect I'm sure Nike wasn't the only culprit). I've never worn anything Nike but they take any brand, not just Nikes, and they have a drop-off location down the street from my office at The Grove.

A quick search of "shoe recycling" found some other programs, although Nike's seems to be the biggest. There are a few donation programs that collect newish shoes to give to people in the US and other countries, like Soles4Souls and One World Running, which is based in Boulder, Colorado but my local running store Runners High is a drop-off location. However, I'm not sure if my shoes are too old to be reused.

Either way, this seems easy enough. I can now check blogging about recycling my shoes off my list. The next step is to get around to dropping them off.

Bus blues

I have failed yet again in my quest to find the "magic" public transportation route to work that takes no longer than driving. Today I scratched the 720 Rapid bus off my list of options, at least in the way I took it today.

Let me start by saying that the MTA uses the term "rapid" loosely. It was only 10 or so minutes faster than the plodding 16 bus. But with the extra walking I had to do, it ended up taking longer.

I've got the first leg of my journey down because there's only one option. I take the Blue Line lightrail train from Long Beach to downtown LA. But once I get off the train, I've got options galore. Too bad none of them involve a car waiting to whisk me to my office six miles away. My regular route is to walk three blocks to 5th Street and grab the 16 or 316 bus, which runs along 3rd Street and drops me off in front of my office. It takes about 30 minutes and on a good day I get to work right at 9 a.m.

Today was what I call a "bus fail day" and on the way home it turned into a "train fail day," but that I'll get to later. I decided to experiment because I'd always wondered if taking the 720 would be faster. The problem is that the 720 runs along Wilshire, although the downtown stop is on 5th Street. So I walked my usual few blocks to a different part of 5th Street where I caught the 720, but then 20 minutes later it dropped me off at Wilshire and La Brea and I still had to walk another 15 minutes to my office on 3rd (if you're familiar with LA, yes I basically walked several blocks north of Wilshire twice). The good part is that I got to walk more, the bad part is that walking is unfortunately the slowest mode of transportation possible. It didn't help that I had been a little late arriving at the Blue Line station and was running 10 minutes late to begin with, but I got to work close to 9:30 this morning. Oops.

But I don't give up that easy. The 16 bus may be the slow and steady option for me, but a girl's gotta play the field before she settles down! So I have one more route to try, which is taking the Blue Line to the Red Line, then briefly taking the 720 from Western and Wilshire to La Brea and Wilshire, then walking. OK, that may sound crazy, especially to people who live close to their office or don't live in L.A., but when you live 30 miles from work in a city with a pathetic public transporation system, you're willing to work with things as best you can for the sheer joy of not having to drive, not putting miles on your car and not paying $3.15 a gallon for gas.

So I promised to explain why I failed on the way home too. This was all my fault. Things started out fine. I ran from work to the Red Line station at Western and Wilshire again, which I'm liking, but then feeling tired after the run, I spaced out on the train and missed my stop at the 7th Street Metro Center. I ended up taking the Red Line all the way to Union Station. I jumped out of the train and jumped into a waiting train heading in the other direction, barely getting in before the doors closed. I'll have to remember to pay more attention next time.

We had a former student stop into our office today who grew up in LA but didn't know anything about the rail system. She had just returned from a semster studying in Paris and loved taking the Metro because she felt more connected to the city and the people. I don't get that same satisfaction using L.A.'s system because it fights you all the way. And so few people use public transportation that I don't feel like part of something greater. The Red Line train was empty today (in both directions, oops) from around 6:45-7:15 p.m. I would expect it to be popular since it's in the heart of LA but apparently not, although maybe it's busy earlier. It's too bad more people don't try out the train and bus, although I can't say I blame them either.

Taking the bus out of the equation

I had a great experience taking public transportation today. And no, I'm not referring to the verbally abusive woman asking for money on the Blue Line train this morning (raise your hand if you think calling someone -- no it wasn't me -- a b**** will get you a free handout). No, it's because I saved time and killed two birds with one stone by running part of my commute home.

At 6 p.m. I changed into my running clothes, put my bus pass, ID, credit card and some emergency cash in my back zippered pocket, grabbed my cell phone, iPod and keys and headed out the door, feeling light and unencumbered. The distance from my office to the Red Line station is three miles so I ran through the neighborhood streets of the mid-Wilshire district, into the tree-lined streets with million-dollar homes in Hancock Park, then into Koreatown, turning down Western for the last quarter mile to the Red Line station at Wilshire. It took about 30 minutes but I saved time because I'd gotten my exercising out of the way. And it put me in control of my commute because I didn't have to wait for the bus and be at its mercy. I know the Red Line train comes at 6:41 and by changing up my pace, I can make sure to get there in time.

I took the Red Line to downtown, where I switched to the Blue Line and pretty much slept until my stop. But it didn't matter that I was tired or that it was late (7:45) because I didn't need to find motivation to run or go to the gym. I parked my car at my apartment at 8:01 p.m. and felt so good. I had plenty of time to cook dinner (not reheat a meal or nuke a veggie burger, but actually cook) and even treated myself to a beer.

This is a good option for me in the summertime, when it's still light out when I'm running and it feels safe being on the train a little later than I normally would be. Sure, I would have preferred the city planners to have some foresight and extend the Red Line farther west when it was originally built, but this isn't a bad backup plan.

Back to the bus

I took public transportation to work today for the first time in, well, so long I can't remember. It was like riding a bike. It all came back to me ... what time I had to leave my place, what time the Blue Line train arrived to take me to downtown LA, and where to walk to catch the bus to my office.

The trip to work was pretty uneventful and the train and bus were surprisingly uncrowded. On the way home it was a little hairier but that's always the case. I never know when the bus will arrive so I sometimes rush out of the office only to sit at the corner and wait 10 minutes, like today. But I got home at my usual "bus" time and got some exercise in the form of speed walking from the bus to the train (only to sit another 10 minutes) so I can't complain.

It takes longer to take public transportation to work so sometimes I grudgingly do it, but one great benefit is that I have time to read the newspaper cover to cover ... I even inspect the ads. Bumping along Third Street on the bus this morning, I read on A9 about a digital camera class at Samy's that I decided to take on Sunday. However, tomorrow it's back to my car because I have to drive somewhere for work. I'm definitely not complaining.

City limits

The type of TV I watch all depends on the company. With others or my old roommates, I gravitate to shows that spark conversation like reality TV (Biggest Loser, Top Chef, and Project Runway and Top Model for a while until I got bored of them ... and of course the big cheese Jon Stewart). But I've noticed that when I watch TV by myself I can really nerd out. The lowest moment was when I didn't have cable and during the presidential election I got into -- I mean, really got into -- CSPAN. These days my 100-plus channels mean my choices are broader (Jon and Kate anyone?) but I still have a soft spot in my heart for those oft-ignored channels I used to frequent, such as PBS. This is all to explain why I found myself watching an episode of American Experience on KLCS about the history of test tube babies. I was enthralled as soon as they started talking about the first test tube baby born in England in the not-so-distant year of 1978, when the procedure was highly controversial. So I stuck around to the end of the show, and thank god. Because the next show was even more interesting. It was about Portland, a city I'm not that familiar with but am intrigued by because of its green reputation. And since Facebook tells me it's where I should be living, I had to watch. Maybe it was the nerdy TV watcher in me, but it was fascinating.

If you know a lot about Portland, this probably won't be new to you. All I knew was that it's a bike-friendly city with progressive residents in a beautiful location (I marveled at the pine trees -- real trees, not palms or god forbid, giant billboards! -- that ran alongside a freeway on my last and only second visit there. It was for a rugby tournament so I didn't get to see much of the city. My only other visit was very brief a decade ago). But what I learned is that Portland's bike culture and it's embracing of public transportation is tied to a 30-year-old decision to limit growth (and good land-use policy). Wise Portlandians (is that what they're called?) stopped urban sprawl in its tracks (er, tires?) with its "urban growth boundary," which put a border around the city and restricted development on the other side. The boundary has grown by only 12 percent in the last 30 years. This means the city is surrounded by farms, wineries and nature. This has had all sorts of positive effects, including dense neighborhoods with good public transportation, a downtown resurgence, farms just 20 miles away and lots of farmers markets with local produce. They have a network of streetcars and lightrail, making it possible to travel from north Portland to downtown in 20 minutes. For someone living in sprawling, freeway-filled, car-congested LA, this was heaven. Those Portlandites (is that what they're called?) are a proud people. This quote was a dagger to my heart: "“We’re not driving 34 miles a day.” Try 60 a day, roundtrip.

The city boundary is not without its critics. Landowners say the city is taking away their rights to sell their land to developers and make money. Some also say it's hard to find the American dream of a suburban house with a yard. The most valid concern is the lack of affordable housing. The city works best for professional singles like yours truly, who want to be near a lively urban core.

It was surreal watching little girls filling up the same red Trader Joe’s bags I own with organic, freshly picked produce like summer squash from a farm 25 miles from their house. I carry my Trader Joe’s bags to the grocery store and fill them with pathetic, wilting produce, passing over the organic produce because it’s so expensive in the grocery store ($3 for a cucumber, really Ralph's?).

And if that wasn't making me salivate, then I learned they actually tore up a freeway that was built alongside the river in the 60s and replaced it with a downtown riverfront park.

I know that even though the show covered concerns over the boundary and a recent ballot measure that would have allowed more development outside it, this was a rosy view of the city. But it made me want to visit to see for myself what it's like and if it truly is a dream city for someone wanting to decrease their carbon footprint, eat fresh foods, use public transportation to get to work, walk to restaurants and shops, and live in a place that's exciting and easy. Long Beach has a lot of those attributes but it's part of a greater metropolis. I don't work in Long Beach so I do that 60-mile commute every day. And as much as I love my city, it's still trying to create a vibrant, culture-rich downtown, the kind that Portlanders (that's what they're called) can take advantage of every day.

BYO Bag

I just came back from shopping and it's so nice that bringing your own bag is so accepted now. Before I left my house, I grabbed an old Express shopping bag and used it at the Gap and the bookstore. Both times the salespeople didn't think anything of it. I don't see a reason for taking home a new bag again, as long as I plan my shopping trips in advance. It's the spur-of-the-moment trips that get you. I keep a few bags in my car for the grocery store, but sometimes they're still in my apartment from my last trip so I am caught bagless. But still, it's a vast improvement over how many bags I used to use (er, waste). I'd collect them in my pantry for those occasions when you need a bag, but that didn't occur very often so the pile kept growing and growing. Now I think it's been months since I brought home a new shopping bag. Not only is that better for the environment, but it means less clutter. And that always makes me happy!

Biodegradable trash bags seemed like a good idea

Sometimes it feels like Americans create so much waste. I found statistics online that showed that while we're recycling more, we're still sending more to our landfills because our waste has almost tripled in the last half-century as our population has grown and society has gotten wealthier, resulting in buying more packaged goods. I think about this a lot. We recycle at work and it's hard to keep up with the bags of plastic containers that topple over in the kitchen and our personal bags of paper next to our desks. It's good that we're recycling but it's still just a lot of stuff. If I'm producing this much as just one person, how do we even have room in our landfills anymore? Then I think about all those plastic bags holding our trash that are sent to landfills. What happens to them? So I decided to do my part to reduce waste, both my recycling more but also cutting back on trash bags. Let me explain ...

When I moved into my apartment, I had to buy trash cans, one of many silly decisions to be made during my grand shopping spree to Target. I wanted a smaller can for trash because when you're conscious about recycling, your recycling container actually fills up faster, with all the plastic containers, beer bottles, newspapers, circulars, etc. My trash is mainly food scraps and those odd items that can't be recycled, like energy bar wrappers (and bottle caps? I've never been able to figure that one out). So after much internal debate and staring at cans trying to imagine the right size I needed, I ended up buying a 13-gallon can for recyclables that sits next to my fridge.

For my trash, I couldn't find one that would fit under my sink so I ended up using a wicker basket I already had. I knew the plan was flawed because wicker and liquid don't mix (I bet you never learned that in driver's ed). I wasn't happy about the occasional leaky trash bag, but it worked well enough. The bigger pain was my determination to not buy trash bags. I used a Trader Joe's reusable shopping bag in my recycling can and it would fill up quickly, but there was still room in the can so the bag would overflow and be a pain to take out. For trash I had no choice so for a while I used the occasional plastic bag I ended up with or the bags holding my newspapers on days when there was a chance of rain (they definitely erred on the safe side because I got those bags a lot, way more than it rained).

But I had planted the seeds of a better plan, one that involved no plastic sent to a landfill, when I saw biodegradable bags for sale in a catalog for Gaiam, which sells eco-friendly items like overpriced organic cotton yoga pants. I was like a child at Christmas pouring through the Sears catalog. I want, I want! I waited for a while and finally last month I decided to order them. They're for composting -- small ones for kitchen compost containers and larger ones for yard waste. But I figured I could use the small ones for my trash, so the bag I sent to the landfill would eventually biodegrade. They're pricier than regular trash bags (about $6 for 25 3-gallon bags) but I wouldn't go through them that quickly. When I did some research online, I found out they sold the same brand, BioBag, at Whole Foods. That made things easier, since I didn't have to pay for shipping.

One person had left a comment saying that the only drawback was they started to decompose a little if left too long before being taken out. The box says "BioBags are shelf stable yet biodegrade quickly when exposed to nature's elements and micro-organisms." They weren't kidding. The first week was fine but the second week there was some liquid in the bag so after five or so days the thin green plastic started to melt right into my wicker basket. Ewwee. The minute I discovered this I rushed the bag off to my apartment's trash bins.

This is where fate comes in, or perhaps the earth sending me a sign to chill out a little. I had just reluctantly bought trash bags for a weekend beach party. I couldn't have opened the box any faster. I put a bag in my larger trash can, converted it to holding my trash, and moved my recycling in the TJ's bag to next to the trash can. No wicker basket. This is a much better plan. No fear of melting bags, plus it's been easier not having to open the cabinet door and lean down to throw away cucumber peels.

I tried making an everyday part of living more environmental, but it's easier and more convenient the old-fashioned, more wasteful way. I'm not sure what to do now with my biodegradable trash bags. The box recommends using them to store produce in your fridge because your veggies will stay fresher longer. But maybe I'll keep them for when I decide to make my life less convenient again and attempt to compost!

A travel mug in the hand is worth ... nothing if you don't use it

Saving the earth is hard work.

My original inspiration for starting this blog was my desire to share the funny things that happened as I attempted to help the environment. In that vein, I present to you my latest gaffe.

I've been trying to not use paper cups when I buy coffee since they aren't recyclable. And in the last year I've made good progress. I used to take my own cup when I bought coffee from the Coffee Bean downstairs from work. And recently I came up with a better system and brought a travel mug to work, so I can order my to-go coffee in a container with a lid. But mainly I try to not buy coffee too often and instead make it at home. I've cut back on my Saturday morning ritual and now just buy coffee whenever I feel like I need it. This morning was one of those days. I had to leave extra time this morning for voting in California's special election (which is another gripe entirely) so I figured I'd buy coffee at the local coffee shop around the corner from my polling place. And I actually remembered to grab a travel mug from my cupboard. Aww, so proud of myself!

What happened next is mostly a blur. I entered an empty polling place, took 10 seconds to vote, was told afterward that I could get free coffee with my "I voted" sticker, grabbed my travel mug from my car and was on my way. Free coffee and no waste. Score! OK, not so much.

In line I got distracted eavesdropping on the kids in front of me talking about an funnily inappropriate song on YouTube using the word f** (but impressed that the kid ordering hot chocolate -- a middle school boy at that -- said "I can understand why gay people don't like that song"), then I completely forgot ... where I was going with this sentence. Just joking, but seriously, that's what happened to my memory. During the two minutes I stood in line, I forgot I was holding my travel mug and ordered my coffee without handing over my mug. I walked away from the counter happy that I didn't have to pull out my wallet. But when I had to put my travel mug down to put milk and sugar in my *** nonrecyclable *** paper cup, well, that's when it hit me. I sheepishly walked out doublefisted -- hot coffee in one hand, empty container in the other. This is where good intentions go to die. I had good intentions by voting, I had good intentions by bringing my mug, I just couldn't quite make it happen. No one said saving the earth was easy, so I'll leave it to the Prius-driving, bus takers of the world. In the meantime, I put my coffee in my cup holder and drove 30 miles to work. I'm blaming Schwarzenegger for the whole thing.