Urban Trek

This morning I went for a bit of an urban trek. I parked at the Everett Marina lot near Anthony’s, walked around the South basin, around the Yacht Club at the North basin, along the river, around the new North basin to the 10^th Street boat launch and back. Unlike yesterday’s walk, it was all flat, but the scenery was a lot better. I’ll let the camera do the talking today.

I Feel Good

I feel good.

I went for a brisk walk this morning and it felt good to be moving again. Huffing up a hill a few blocks from home isn’t the same as snorkeling down steep powder or passing the 22 mile marker on your way to completing a marathon, but still, it feels good. It feels good to breathe hard and feel the blood pump as you bear down and hold pace up a steep section.

I’m a slow twitch guy. The longer the event, the better I’ve fared. I feel like I need a dose of that endurance now. I’m a long way from that guy who reveled in twice a day workouts and the burn of a long run or a good ride. I see him. I remember him. I know he’s in there. He’s buried in year’s worth of complacency and Big Macs, but he’s in there.

And that’s my quest. I want that guy back. I want to make decisions about my life, where I go, what I do, based upon what I want and not what I’m capable of. I’m not satisfied to view my life in rear view. I don’t want to hear about, read about or watch life’s adventures; I want to be immersed in them.

As I sit here and write, my knees hurt, not enough for me to find the Ibuprofen, but enough to put a smile on my face.

I feel good.

A Little Too Smug

It appears I was a little too smug, a little too soon. It’s been snowing on and off for three days. We have eight inches of snow on the ground and it continues to accumulate. It appears we have a real snow event here in Western Washington. Or as the local news likes to sensationalize: snow-mageddon. Therefore, given the nature of my previous post, I reluctantly retract a measure of my smugness. I’m not ready to say I was wrong, but I'm a little less judgmental when I'm standing knee deep in the stuff.

Aside from a general inconvenience and the mess to come with the inevitable rain, a blanket of snow makes even the most pedestrian scene beautiful. Rather than try to explain, I'll post a few photos.

Seattle Snow Watch

Snow watch is easily one the most ridiculous aspects of living in western Washington. For a week the weather reports have been warning of impending accumulations of an inch or less in the lowlands and possible two or three inches in the foot hills. The mountains are due for a foot or more this weekend, but it’s January! Anyone traveling in the mountains should expect snow this time of year. Serious snow fall in the Cascades, during winter, is not news. A foot of snow at Snoqualmie Pass, in July, that’s news.

It amazes me how little snow it takes to disrupt life in the greater Seattle area. A few flakes in the air, not sticking, can bring traffic to a stand-still. Enough snow to make the road surface white will cause people to abandon their cars where they sit, the middle lane of the freeway, and walk to the nearest Starbucks for sanctuary. I’m not kidding. A few winters back Michelle and I were driving back from Bellevue in a moderate snow storm and the hardest part was dodging the parked cars on 405.

I was raised by a no-snow-days father. We didn’t stay home or change our plans because of a few snow flakes. More than once we drove through blinding flurries to be on time and the only ones there for church on Sunday morning. Work and church was one thing, but if we had plans for a little weekend recreation, a little snow, big snow, or blinding whiteout were not keeping us from having fun.

I’ve carried the tradition forward. I don’t let a little snow keep me from who and what I need to do. Many years ago when I was a weekend ski instructor, I drove all the way from Marysville to Stevens Pass on compact snow and ice, all seventy six miles one way. It never occurred to me to stay home. I did miss a few days of work due to snow in my youth. Once, upon returning to work the day after a major dump in the mountains, I started to tell my boss about my illness. He cut me off, “I know. It was that dreaded ski fever again.” That was the last time I missed a day of work due to snow.

Back to current events: I just checked a local news site. Here are the current headlines:

“The snow begins to fall in Redmond”

“Snow sticks to the ground in Shoreline”

“Snow sticks to the streets in Shoreline”

And my favorite so far this year:

“Snow sticks to the ground in a backyard in Shoreline”

You know it’s a blizzard here in western Washington when snow sticks to the ground in a backyard. I hope everyone has their provisions laid in. This could be it. This could be the big one.

Or not.

Sunrise

Have you ever watched the sun rise? Not from the expanse of your car’s windshield or the comfort of your dining room window, but from the deck of a boat at sea, or from the top of a mountain, or in a field of solitude. Have you ever stood in the cold and watched the darkness yield to light? Reluctantly at first, and then with gathering energy, the sun bursts forth with the promise of a new day. Sunrise is one of life’s simplest and yet most profound pleasures. It brings optimism and assurance of new beginnings each and every day.

In case you missed it, here are a few images taken this morning.

Stupid Hallmark Movie

Michelle likes to watch TV before she falls to sleep. I don’t. Michelle typically falls asleep six to eight minutes after selecting a show I have no interest in, and yet I am hooked. Last night true to course, Michelle climbed into bed and fumbled around with the remote until she landed on the Hallmark channel. I don’t know if you’ve ever tuned into the Hallmark channel, but unless you like programming written by and for housewives and lovelorn pre-teen girls, don’t bother. Last night was no exception. While Michelle slept soundly, I flipped around the channels between the seventies classic Carwash, a John Wayne western (it doesn’t matter which one, they’re all the same) and the stupidest made-for-Hallmark-sap-story ever written. What really made me nuts, is that I kept clicking back to see of old so-and-so was really going to run off and leave farm and family to the wolves and Indians. And when it was over, I was really fuming. What a stupid ending. Did the writer really think she could tie-up that many loose ends in the last three minutes? At least I was able to switch back in time to see John Wayne save the day, which was much more believable. Worst of all, I’m wide awake in the middle of the night, while Michelle sleeps soundly next to me. I really wanted to wake her up and give her a piece of my mind, but I was afraid she’d tune into something stupid and I’d be up another two hours.

If you’re new to my writing you may be confused by the random nature of my blog; me too. I tend to write about life in the present. I don’t have an agenda. I don’t have a cause. I’m just a guy working through life’s ups and downs one day at a time. Stop by from time to time and we’ll see where we end up together.

Thanks for reading.

I'm a Junkie, food not drugs

I'm a junkie, food not drugs.

Specifically, chips. I can turn my nose up at alcohol and just say no to drugs. In times of great strength I’ve even been able to walk away from a cookie. Open a bag of Doritos and hide them somewhere in the house; I’ll wake from a sound sleep and find them without even looking. It’s a gift. I’m kind of a savant that way. Chips and dip, chips and salsa, Fritos and Lays, I never found a chip I didn’t like – except sour cream and onion, yuck. But the chip that drives me to doom every time is Nacho Cheese Doritos.

I’m sure when satin sits down to watch MTV (another time, another blog) he’s got a big bowl of Nacho Cheese Doritos sitting beside him. I crashed my diet; I know, who would have guessed. It sounded like a freight train rolling off the tracks into a zillion Doritos. Wait, it was a zillion Doritos. Ok, it was just a partially eaten bag left over from New Years Day, but you get the general idea. Every time I walked through the house, they mocked me.

“Hey, Linn, we’re in the pantry.”

Finally, with my defenses worn thin, the Doritos won. I ate.

The funny thing is Nacho Cheese Doritos aren’t even that good. Look at them closely. They look like they’ve been spray painted with gloppy orange processed cheese-like food substitute. The powdered cheese-like partials stick to your fingers and everything you touch like evidence at a crime scene. And breath, try to talk to someone and watch them wince. Doritos breath is like smelling a dog freshly rolled in skunk and sea-weed – yuck? Like most things bad for you, it starts good and ends poorly. If you really thought it through, you wouldn’t do it. It just doesn’t make sense.

And that’s the whole thing. It isn’t rational. Rational makes sense. Food, for me, doesn’t. I should be able to say I’m not hungry, don’t eat. I should be able to see the ingredients read like a chemistry quiz, and say yuck. What combination of food science and the missing link in my brain makes me crave such a lousy food-like substitute? I’ve been at this long enough to know that beating my self for failure is counter production. Good days and bad days and hope for a few more good days in the end. I’m not ready to throw in the towel; not yet. I know from personal experience that exercise acts to suppress my appetite, so I’ll start there and figure the rest out as I go.

PS

A photo from this morning's walk.

Today, so far so good

It was still dark when I pulled into the parking lot. I sat for several minutes waiting to hear the end of an NPR story and hoping the rain would quit. A second car pulling up to the trailhead broke my solitude. I knew if I didn’t step out into the cold, I would turn the ignition and head home. Slowly I gather the essentials; water bottle, banana, camera, second lens, hat, gloves, and organize my rucksack for the short hike.

It was still well before light when I started down the hill. Meadowdale Beach is somewhat of an anomaly, park high, hike low. The first half mile drops nearly 400 vertical feet in serious business. The next half mile lumbers lower and the final quarter mile to the beach is nearly flat. Holding back as much as I could to protect my knees and prevent a fall, it still only took 21 minutes to arrive at saltwater.

I spent half an hour at the beach; watching the sun come up; taking pictures; eating my banana. Within ten minutes, the first of several other hikers arrived. Soon it was fully light and the sky was no longer interesting, just shades of grey. I stuffed everything back into my rucksack and with a final look around, started up the trail. I made sure I hit the timer on my watch as I passed from the beach and into the woods.

Moving upward this time, I no longer had to worry about controlling my momentum. The morning light filtered through the trees and I was surprised by the number of people on the trail. I may have arrived first, but I wasn’t alone. The first three quarters of a mile go by quickly and easily. As soon as I passed two huge old-growth stumps I’d noticed on the way down (and a trail marker a few feet further) I knew the fun was over. From this point the trail gets serious and doesn’t let up until you can see cars in the parking lot. In spite of the grade, I reach the parking lot in 28 minutes; breathing like a pack mule and dripping sweat.

Back at my desk and dealing with life, I’m pleased with my effort and ready to do it again. For me, every day is a choice. Do I use food or abuse food? Do I get up and walk or do I sit? I’ve wrestled with this too long to assume I got it under control, but today, so far, so good.

Looking Forward

I assume the New Year rang in without a hitch. I was in bed long before the main event. That’s one of the benefits of being in the ‘grandpa’ phase of life. I no longer feel the urge or need to stay up until midnight – for any occasion. If I can outlast the grandbabies I consider it a job well done. As the grandbabies grow into pre-teens and beyond, I’ll have to find a new goal. For now I’m content to stay up longer than the little ones.

This is the first time in many years I haven’t written a ‘year in review’. This year I choose to focus forward. Aside from a few lessons I’d rather not repeat, the rest of my life is in front of me, not behind me. This afternoon I have an optimism, deserved or not, that I’ll allow to carry me into the New Year. I don’t have a crystal ball, and I don’t dare to presume, but I’ll predict 2012 will be a good year.

Happy New Year!