Filed under: Seattle, Uncategorized | Tags: bus ride, courtesy, library, napa valley, passover, reading, shutting the fuck up, stress test, triathlete
Passover is a problematic time for people training for triathlons. They don’t get to eat enough for training. Also, stress tests prior to the triathlon can kill you, but that’s why they go to Napa Valley, though the swim is in a lake or pool because there isn’t an ocean there. And there’s nothing else to do there, because the air museum is really boring. Good for you if liked it, but it was really boring.
Don’t give a shit about any of that? Try hearing it on your ride home from the woman across from you. Just when you think she’s run out of inane bullshit to babble about she starts on a new thread of self-serving stupidity, rendering fruitless your attempts to get through ONE fucking article in your magazine.
Filed under: Seattle | Tags: Bank of America, credit cards, multi-tasking, WaMu, Washington Mutual
For all the repeats of my life, the novelty of going to work still has not worn off. Even though the routine is the same every day, I still get a kick out of writing about running after the bus every morning, reading the Economist on the way in, and walking to the office. I love my commute.
Work today was productive, as I’ve learned to multitask so that I can call my bank and credit card companies on the speakerphone in my office and do my work while I wait on hold. It’s a small victory, but it’s one that keeps me moving through the day.
Filed under: Seattle, Uncategorized | Tags: 10K, aid stations, Burger king, Camelbak, composting toilets, distance running, half marathon, long distance running, male mockery, mountain running, Mt. Squak, Northwest Trail Runs, race lines, running, trail running
Being sick sucks. Racing is hard. Doing a race sick is about as lousy as it gets. Today we are slated to run the Squak Mountain Half Marathon, a 13.1 mile trail marathon that I underestimated, failed to respect, and ultimately got the crap kicked out of by.
Sometime early last week I got an email fromwww.nwtrailruns.com reminding me of upcoming races, and having missed out on the last few with Drej, I decided to forward the email to the group, which responded in an overwhelmingly positive way. Tuppence was in. Drej too. Even Beckers, though she’d never 1) run a half marathon, 2) run a trail race, or 3) run any competitive outdoor races.
This should have been a warning for me, but it wasn’t. I’d run 16 miles last weekend; this was shorter, on terrain that I traditionally had done much better on, and was not to be a competitive run for me. I’d be fine.
I was not fine. When I woke in the morning I found that my commonplace pre-race jitters were actually a mild case of food poisoning, as was evidenced by my 5 trips to the facilities prior to Tuppence’s arrival. After hastily packing up what I hoped would be all I needed for the race, I jumped into the car with Becks and Tuppence as we headed off to pick up Drej.
Filed under: Seattle | Tags: happy hour, Owl and Thistle, puget sound king crab, Seattle, Seattle Aquarium
I came from work today having a hard time justifying time spent. So much of what I do shows no result—lack of information doesn’t mean lack of research. It’s usually just the opposite; when there’s no information in my write-ups, it usually means I’ve scoured everything possible to verify that there’s nothing, and given the amount of crap there is on the internet, that can be quite a lot.
To make matters even more frustrating, it’s gorgeous out, all three of my supervisors are working from home, and I’m sitting in an office where most people tell me I should just go home. It’s days like today that test one’s moral fiber.
But stay I do, though I do meet Becky for lunch, which has been required by both her and my bosses. Her, because she demands it, and them, because I apparently need to “calm down” a lot, and require a break. Often, the lunch break can simply be a reminiscence of the life that I used to be in control of.
Beckers and I meet for lunch at the bottom of her building, find a table near the part courtyard, and eat what we’ve packed while watching the crazies, and since the weather is warm, there is no shortage. On the corner there stands the guy who lectures about god to an audience of 30 or none all the same. The teenager who is a regular 5 o’clock shadow guys guy with the exception of the makeup and sundress. The guys wearing wigs and driving through the city in their Hummer, pumping the breaks to make the car bounce as though it had hydraulics. This is better than TV.
Filed under: Seattle
Becky is learning, and she is learning quickly. This morning she barely talked to me, which was probably something she decided on when she walked into the kitchen to find me slowly chewing my oatmeal with a muss of hair standing 6” off the top of my head. She would later contend that we actually spoke to each other, which I contend is untrue. (more…)
Filed under: Seattle | Tags: coffee, Little Si, Mt. Si, Seattle hiking, snow storms, switchbacks
I wake this morning feeling much better, but not ambitious, as when Tuppence calls to go hiking, I consider scouring the internet for evidence of inclement weather to justify staying in bed longer. But he will not be deterred this easily, and since I refuse to admit my laziness, I have to agree with him when he tells me that that the snow is up north, so we should again hike close to the city.
Getting up and getting ready, Becky and I start to make pancakes for Tuppence’s arrival. By we, I mean Becky. As I fumble around the apartment looking for the things that Becky has put away into spaces I didn’t know we had, Becky begins her baking process. Some time later, Tuppence arrives, I abandon my pile of half-found gear, and we eat a delicious breakfast of pancakes and coffee.
Before long we’re on the highway, and shortly after that we’re being pelted with snow blowing in from the pass. “This will blow right over,” says Tuppence in a lie that I am supposed to reinforce. Absolutely, I say, it’s a snow shower.
Sadly, this snow shower has dark, dark clouds, and pelts the windshield with increasingly large clumps of snow. We change the music from Daft Punk to Bruce Springsteen’s “Nebraska”, which does not help my somber mood. Becky hums along from the back seat, and I attempt to be ready with directions when I’m asked.
The destination is Little Si, which is the bastard little brother of Big Si, a mountain described by Ar as one she would “never do again”. With this in mind, we had chosen the smaller, less populated Little Si, forgoing any bragging rights for the weekend.
“Well this looks good,” says Tuppence as we climb out of the car and shoulder our packs. Yeah, I say, shouldn’t be bad. “I love switchbacks,” says Becky as we start climbing.
Good for you dear, I say, unable to resist the chance to take such an innocent line out of context. Karma rebounds in less than 10 minutes as I climb over a log, step down, and hear a loud snap come from my ankle. Shit, I say.
Filed under: Seattle | Tags: asian cuisine, drummers, duvets, Green Lake Public Library, hand lotion, My life, panhandling, Seattle Public Library, street performers, The Google Story
After the trying experience of last night’s run, I was pleased to wake this morning feeling relaxed and rested with the sun on my face. Then, as I levitated 4 feet into the air, I realized that the sun is never up when I wake, and glancing at the clock in horror I saw that it was 7:30, the very same time I had caught the bus yesterday. I could not be late on my last day before my trip.
I’m not quite sure how it happened, but at 7:56 I was running to the bus stop to catch the next bus downtown. Showered, packed, though still buttoning my shirt, I hopped onto the bus in a strange moment of triumph. How did I catch this bus? More importantly, how had I missed it so many days when I had gotten up at 6?
I got to work about 8:15 and set to my report. Having had my entire morning routine disrupted, I found myself very out of sorts. A creature of habit, I was quietly upset that my normal progression of snacks and drinks would be rearranged throughout the day. It’s times like this that remind me why I’m not a journalist.
After nuking my oatmeal, talking to Jan, a colleague I met as I cleaned up the overly-nuked oatmeal, and getting a cup of coffee, I set about work and didn’t come up for air until lunchtime. The work was slow and frustrating, and I was glad to get a break from it by meeting Mick and HD for lunch. Walking to HD’s building a few blocks north we comment on the street performers. There’s one guy drumming out a beat on 5-gallon buckets on a street corner.
Now that’s a guy I’m giving my change to, I say to Mick. He nods, agreeing. Something is to be said for effort in the panhandling/street performing world. To accost someone for change is just rude and annoying. It says to me ‘I exist, and I want you to help me to continue doing so’. That’s boring. The guy drumming out his beat in downtown Seattle? He says ‘I exist to rock your world with my beats. Enjoy your lunch.’ Who are going to give money to?
