Practicing

Well, I've done it again - gone and failed to blog for nearly a month - and as usual, I'm far more compelled to write about small moments, small pleasures, than I am all the major, more drastic things that have been taking place.

The fact, for example, that my local Trader Joe's has started carrying kale, and I told my checker tonight how psyched I was about that, and he asked what I would do with it, and I said probably blend it up with all those peaches and bananas and kiwis I was buying too.

Or the fact that Lauren and I hopped on a bus yesterday in the afternoon sun and rode it all the way to Ballard - the complete opposite corner of Seattle, but a really spectacular little neighborhood - to get a couple microbrews during the Noble Fir's "Pints for Parks" night, where they donate a buck from every pint to an environmental nonprofit. This month's cause of choice is my beloved Washington Trails Association.


Doing our part for the environment
We followed that up with tapas and gelato and a nice evening stroll as the sun was going down. What more can you ask from one evening, really?

Or the fact that on Sunday, I discovered that the river is a fantastic place to practice my banjo. I can be there with friends, but also go down by the river on my own to play where the current is loud enough to drown me out, and I can strum my banjo as loudly as I please without offending anyone's ears.


I take lessons from these cats. Future string band, hello.
The big news of the month, of course, is that I'm now three weeks into my temp job with REI Headquarters, that I'm no longer in school, that I flew home to Kansas City for all of 40 hours to surprise my dad for his birthday, that last weekend I ran my second ultramarathon (third place this year, and almost exactly, to the minute, the same time as when I ran the same race last year), that my amazing friend Shari arrived in Seattle for the summer, that I went to a beginner's meditation workshop a couple weekends ago, that I've gone on some spectacular trail runs with friends (Zanna! Ron!), that I've seen some spectacular live music (Sarah Jarosz!), that I've read some spectacular books (more Ann Patchett!), and that despite it being the most hideous few months weather-wise for Seattle, summer is definitely in the air.


The snow has finally melted off Mt. Si! As seen from the airplane window on my way to Kansas.
I went for a long (for me) bike ride after work today. After starting to feel a little stir crazy about not running in five days (trying to let myself recover fully from the 50K; I have that persistent, nagging sore right shin again that I had last year after the ultra), I hopped on my bike and just took off for the lakefront. It felt good - all that wind and fresh, just-rained air, and the glorious sensation of riding my bike over the I-90 floating bridge, my tires so near to the sun-glinting waves of Lake Washington.

Once again, I can thank coworkers at REI for inspiring to challenge myself in new ways. Last week, as part of a "team building" day for the entire Product Information team, we went kayaking together. It was only my second time on a kayak - and what a joy it is!


Paddling on Lake Washington with new friends
One of my coworkers asked if I'd like to ride our bikes down to the kayak launch together, since we live in the same neighborhood and the lake is only a few miles away. We met up for coffee in the morning and then rode to the lake together, and it reminded me how much I like being on my bike - afraid of it as I am much of the time.

See, I have the same problem with biking in Seattle that I had with running when I first moved here: a sad sense of resignation that Seattle will take away from me one of my great passions. How am I supposed to like biking with all these ridiculously steep hills that I'm utterly incapable of going up and down? But, of course, as with running, it's going to just be a matter of building myself up to it. Not being afraid, not being impatient, and not giving up - just steadily climbing the giant metaphorical hill along with the literal ones. And one day I'll enjoy a chuckle at how epic my bike ride out to Mercer Island across bridge and back felt today.

The new job is going really well. It's straightforward work and extremely project-oriented, which is the way I work naturally, so the time flies by. Copywriting has forced me to stop evaluating my language in the big-picture way that I've spent most of my life doing, and start focusing on the minutiae of my words, my sentence constructions. Zinsser's "On Writing Well" has been on my bookshelf most of my life, since my father had the foresight and kindness to give me a copy, but it had been years since I'd cracked it open. I started rereading it, and wow, it has to be one of my favorite books ever written.

Why wasn't it required reading for any of my creative writing classes at Oberlin? We spent so much energy in those classes on big-picture discussions - on plot, on character development - but so rarely did we work on the bare bones of language itself. When did we relish in the many shades of meaning maintained by a single word? When did we discuss the uselessness of most adverbs and of many adjectives, the richness of active verbs? When did we pay homage to the origins of words, express gratitude for the delicious possibilities that the English language puts at our fingertips?

I need more practice with the craft itself of writing, with the art of decluttering, of editing, of sending half my words to the chopping block. There is value in this all, and I am grateful for the opportunity to work on it in my daily life this summer. (I should practice this decluttering business in my blog more often, I realize...but cut me some slack; 40 hours a week of stripping my sentences to their essential parts...getting to ramble a little on my blog is kind of like having a familiar, relaxing drink at the end of a long day.)

Speaking of which, it's well past my bedtime now...

Weekend in Oregon: Beer, sunshine, and 26.2 miles

First and foremost, thank you all for your kind words on my last entry here. My blog saw a record number of views the day I posted my entry on Sasha, and many of you took the time to send me messages or call, and I want you all to know how much I appreciated your love, comfort, and support over the past week. The loss of a pet is never easy, but being able celebrate her life with you all meant a lot to me. I'm honored that so many of you took the time to read my words of tribute to my dog, and also that they resonated with you. Thank you, all of you...I am grateful for you in my life.

Second of all...as always, bless running.


And living among mountains.


This past weekend was a wonderful respite from the "real world", as Alan and I made an Oregon road trip out of the weekend and spent our time taking my little Passat for a grand adventure through mountain passes, by lakes, along babbling rivers, into the woods, and through a few new towns. The whole weekend was all in the name of the Eugene Marathon, about which I wrote a story for Outdoors NW last spring and was registered to run in 2010 until I injured myself about a month out. Bummer.

This year, however, my body has held up to the training I've put it through. Maybe it's the new shoes (running in lightweight, neutral shoes for the first time, after a lifetime in stability shoes), maybe it's all the trail running and hills around Seattle strengthening my muscles, maybe it's just getting smarter about my training over the years...but in comparison with my last marathon, this one was a blazing success.

We began the weekend by driving down to Eugene - Tracktown USA, and home to many running greats throughout history including the late and great Steve Prefontaine - for the Expo. We stopped in Portland for lunch that day, finding (as we did for the entirety of the weekend) little hole-in-the-wall, mom-and-pop restaurants along on our way on Yelp. Family-owned Lebanese restaurant? Heck yes; 5 stars for the Nicholas Restaurant.

Guided again by editorial I've done for the magazine, I was really interested in checking out Bend (there will be a little mini-story of mine in the upcoming Outdoors NW about trail running in Bend!), so Friday afternoon, we started driving east in Oregon on the beautiful McKenzie Scenic Highway. The Forest Service campgrounds, sadly, were still closed for the season - the mountain pass along that highway peaks at about 5,000 feet, and the snow was still quite ample up there - so we wound up pitching a tent in an RV Park in the woods.


RV parks...never my first choice, but it was a surprisingly beautiful one, and I felt sufficiently tucked away in the forest in our cozy little REI Half Dome.

The following morning, we slept until the sunshine woke us up, and then made the rest of the drive east to Bend. Bend was a blast. The weather was incredible, and we spent an entire relaxing Saturday exploring town.


Our afternoon included: getting brunch at the lovely CHOW (thank you again, Yelp), strolling along the Deschutes River that winds through town, checking out Bend's REI, stopping by Fleet Feet to meet and chat with the Patagonia-sponsored runner that I interviewed for my story on Bend, and polishing off the afternoon with a couple microbrews on an outdoor terrace downtown. And I have to say, I think Oregon kicks Washington's butt in microbrew-land. Alan's 10 Barrel Brewing Co. S1nist0r Black Ale (Bend) and my Rogue Hazelnut Brown Nectar (Eugene) rocked both of our worlds.

Anyway. We drove back to our campground that night, stopping in Sisters for dinner at an old hotel renovated into a sweet saloon-type restaurant called Bronco Billy's for my official pre-marathon meal (grilled salmon, rice pilaf, and a skewer of grilled veggies = yum!) before cruising through the mountain pass at sunset to return to our campsite. Beautiful drive.


Us with the Sisters mountains in the background.
Sunday morning, the alarm clock went off at 4:30 a.m. By the light of my car headlights, we took down camp in record time (it was freeeezing cold out), hopped in the car and hit the road for Eugene. The weather, again, couldn't have been more ideal - perfect sunshine, and temperatures ranging from 42-55 degrees in the morning (68 later in the day...).


The starting line, outside of historic Hayward Field.
The marathon itself was incredible - beautiful course along rivers and trails and through beautiful wooded areas as well as quaint residential areas, full of energetic spectators, great musicians along the sidelines, and pretty flat and fast overall. And yes, I ran the whole thing with my camera (in a pocket of my hydration pack, but easily accessible while running.) I am that devoted to you all, my blog readers. :)



It was the opposite, in many (good) ways, of my first marathon in Seattle in 2009. I obviously went into this one with a great deal more long distance running experience under my belt; when I ran Seattle, 26.2 miles was the longest I'd ever run before. At mile 20 of Eugene yesterday, I thought, woohoo, only a 10K left; thank goodness I don't have to run 31 miles today!

I fueled much better this time around, taking in gels or shot blocks or squeezable packs of almond butter at 30-40 minute intervals. I stopped at every single aid station for a cup of Gatorade, and sucked down water from my pack on the run. I'm pretty sure I remember only stopping at a couple aid stations in Seattle for water or Gatorade, and only eating one (maybe two?) gels. Whoops. Live and learn.

I also ran the first half much slower. With Seattle, in my excitement, I accidentally clocked a 7:02 mile early on, and crashed and burned with 10:00+ miles and a lot of walking at the end. This time, my slowest mile (9:02) was my first, and my fastest (8:12) was, of all things, the 21st...and my overall pace got faster and faster as the race went on, with the final six miles, despite my muscles starting to burn, my fastest pace of the entire marathon.


I blame (a word I use in jest) my unexpected 3:45:16 clock time on the 3:50 official pacer. I started out the race way behind him and the pack that ran with him, beginning conservatively and really enjoying the first half of the race at a leisurely pace. I honestly had no ambitions with this marathon, except wanting to do the whole thing without walking (like I did during the last 6 miles of Seattle) and secretly hoping I'd beat my time...but not feeling very confident about it. But at some point, I caught the 3:50 pacing group, somewhat to my surprise, and was still feeling very strong; I ran with them for awhile before feeling confident enough to push ahead.

And push ahead I did! I lost the 3:50 pacing group for a few miles, and felt like I was maintaining a good, strong pace. I indulged in the glimmer of hope that I might, in fact, catch the 3:40 pacer - when all of the sudden, there was that darned 3:50 pacer again, right on my heels, and pushing what suddenly felt like a VERY hard pace. This was about mile 19, when my legs were just beginning to really feel it. Seven miles away from the finishing line seemed too soon for me to start really racing (vs. cruising comfortably), but I was determined not to let that darned pacer pass me - and there he was, chasing me down.

That sense of competition pushed me to my max. I felt unsure my legs were going to make it, but I kept reminding myself that I'd trained for this, I'd fueled everything perfectly, and there was no logical reason for me to not be able to finish the race strong - despite my body protesting and trying to convince me otherwise. Fortunately, the scenery along the river for the final 7-mile stretch was beautiful, the crowd support amazing, and before I knew it, there was historic Hayward Field and the finish line, and an unexpected miracle time on the clock before me. I finished strong, at a 7:44 pace for the home stretch into the stadium, but with next to nothing left in the tank: just the way you want to finish a race.


Bliss!

Best quote from my blog entry about my Seattle marathon: "3:45 would have been great, but that's what next time's for, right?"

Next up: qualify for Boston! I was 4 minutes and 17 seconds away from a 2011 Boston qualifying time...but they've just made the standards even more rigorous, so my goal for my next marathon, whenever that may be, is to run a 3:34:59. It's going to be hard to top this experience, though. Eugene for the win.

RAGNAR Race Report

Many, many months ago, a piece of expertly marketed advertising arrived in my mailbox at our apartment: a postcard with two scratch-and-sniff vans, one that smelled great, one that smelled terrible, and a dotted line labeled "187 miles" connecting the two. So it was that I was introduced to the Ragnar Relay Series - a dozen gigantic relay races throughout the country in which 12-person teams pack into two vans and leapfrog their runners to the finish line over a series of 36 legs (3 per runner). The Northwest Passage Ragnar starts in Blaine, up by the Canadian border, and goes all the way down to Langley, a small town on the south end of Whidbey Island.

I think Ragnar got my address from my Seattle Marathon sign-up, but more power to 'em: the scratch-and-sniff postcard hooked my interest. I posted it up at work and asked if anyone might be interested in putting together a team. Within a month, I had 11 hooligans interested in joining me for a two-day fest of sleep-deprived, pavement-pounding madness. After many months of organizing, reorganizing, planning, training, and the occasional team run/BBQ, this past weekend finally plunged us into the craziness of running a huge relay in one of the most stunning parts of our country.


To those who know me well, it may come as no surprise that our official team name, "Alpacas by Day, Ninjas by Night" was my doing. Four years in Ohio cemented my slight obsession with alpacas...and as for the ninja part, I really have no idea. But it worked; our competition included team names like "Runners with an Eating Disorder", "Blood, Sweat, and Beers", "Postpartum Aggression", and the "IT Bandits", and costumes and van decorations ranged from Robin Hood-themed warriors to a van with a three-foot cardboard shark emerging from the top.


Seeing all the other vans was inspiring and awesome.
We met up in Seattle at 7 a.m. on Friday to decorate our vans, don ridiculous noses and starry glasses (which, of course, have nothing to do with either alpacas or ninjas, but who cares?!), caravan up to the starting line, and torment/amuse drivers in other vehicles along the way.


Ron started us off at our staggered start time of 10:30 a.m., taking off for the first of 36 legs total. The two vans, one with runners 1-6 and one with runners 7-12, alternated being "on" and "off" vans - so for the first six hours or so of the relay, my van was "off" and able to just wander around downtown Bellingham, stroll around by the beach and boardwalk, grab some lunch at the Colophon Cafe, and pick up some IPA's and Scotch-style ales from the infamous Boundary Bay Brewery in anticipation of our post-race celebration (still more than 24 hours away at that point! And as for how to make room in our coolers for the beer...who needs cold Gatorade anyway?)

In the meantime, Van 1 was leapfrogging our first six runners all the way from Blaine down to the first major exchange point in Bellingham, where around 4:40 p.m., I laced up my running shoes, lined up in the exchange chute, took the baton (err, slap bracelet) from Jenica and took off running.

Tempted as I am to write a play-by-play of the whole 28-hour ordeal, I understand that might get tedious. Instead, I'll summarize the highlights, and rely heavily on photos to bring the event to life for those who weren't there in person to run under a full moon, watch sunrise over Deception Pass, smell the sweat, feel the aches and pains, and experience the drunken stupor of total sleep deprivation. (1.5 hours of sleep during the entire event, AGHHH!!!!)

Washington state is gorgeous. It's more diverse in its landscape than anywhere I've ever visited, let alone lived, before. We ran by all of it: mountains, volcano views, lakes, bays, beaches, forest, farmlands, everything. Each leg of the race brought new scenery, new places to ooh and ahh over. When our van was "on", we leapfrogged our runners, cheered and hollered as they ran, blasted bluegrass from our van, danced along the side of the road, took photos of our antics, and ate snacks pretty much constantly. When our van was "off", we also ate snacks pretty much constantly, hung out, laughed ourselves silly, and occasionally tried to pile into sleeping bags and catch a few winks of sleep, generally in vain.


First and foremost, our stellar team of volunteers, without whom our run wouldn't have even been possible.


My van mates broke out their best "Yitka pose" by the side of the road.


Don't we look like fun?


At sunset on Friday: 4 of our van's 6.


Elodie got both the sunset and the sunrise run.


75% of the team, pictured at Exchange Point 12.


...where they had free s'mores!


In our blazingly attractive reflective vests.


Getting sleep during the relay meant getting creative about beds.


Homeless? Nah, just runners. Notice the Pringles can and stack of bagels on top of it.


Eating salty chips and guzzling Gatorade at a convenient store in the middle of the night. Just about sums up the whole Ragnar experience.


Sunrise over Deception Pass.


Post 1.5-hours of sleep: Breakfast, sunshine, listening to bluegrass, waiting for Van 1 to arrive.


Jenica arrives!


Greg kicking butt on his last leg.


Exchanges ranged from smooth to messy; this one was speedy, sweaty, and largely a failure of coordination on our part, but Greg's sprint at the end succeeded in giving me the leg up on the team that was even with us at that point.


Peter and I toast at the finish line...


...while Jeff hops on a treadmill and takes 7th place nationwide for Most Elevation Climbed in 5 Minutes. Crazy man!
Overall, it's just impossible the put the experience into words. No worries, though; the Alpaca Ninjas fully plan on returning next year for their second Ragnar, so let me know if you're interested in joining the team for next year! We ran hard, averaging a team pace of 8:51 overall, with our fastest legs paced at a ridiculous 7:17 pace (go Jeff and Elodie!) There were some blisters, some sore knees and shins, some seriously taxed muscles, some general heat exhaustion, some Sunday work shifts that needed calling off...but overall, I think it's safe to say we had a blast with it. Couldn't recommend the Ragnar series more highly to anyone thinking about doing one.


Ragnar 2010: Alpacas by Day, Ninjas by Night

Balmy January invites cookies, flasks, & a whole lot of running

(I'm skipping the obligatory apology for not updating in awhile...)


Sunrise in Seattle, as seen from my living room window.
The January warmth continues here in the Northwest - another 55-degrees-and-sunny day today. And yesterday. Despite work keeping me busy, I've taken a fair amount of advantage of the nice days. It's been well over a month since I've set foot inside 24 Hour Fitness here, despite a gym membership being on my list of "non-negotiables" when I first moved out here, broke as I was. But I don't particularly miss the stifling, sweaty gym environment - at least not when there's fertile soil and crisp air and mountains and sunshine on the other side of the glass. Kansas City's brutally humid summers and Ohio's brutally cold winters made me forget that in some places, playing outdoors is not a seasonal privilege.

This weekend (after a 7:45 a.m. SAT proctoring session for 75 high schoolers out east in Issaquah), I will be trekking up solo to the San Juan Islands to do some volunteer trail work and restoration, and scout out the scenery for my 25K there the following weekend. Hopefully should have some good photos from the adventure...

Last week, a good bunch of us from REI trekked up to Rattlesnake Ledge at night. I'd never really done a night hike before, but given solid advice on night hike protocol by my seasoned coworkers, I packed for the occasion:


The cookies were a plus. Other folks brought: more cookies, McDonald's cheeseburgers, snap pea crisps, beef jerky...

The beer (Great Lakes' Christmas Ale, all the way from Cleveland - courtesy of Alan's thoughtful kindness this past Christmas, knowing of my undying love for the stuff) was less of a good idea. Everybody else, wisely, had bottles of wine, flasks of scotch and bourbon, and Nalgenes of unidentified mystery liquids - basically, beverages that don't leave you learning for a port-a-potty when you're on top of a mountain. Oh well...live and learn. I still enjoyed my Xmas Ale.

This is what we climbed up to the top of:


(Photo courtesy of Wikipedia.)
And by night, here's what the view looks like:


...with a 60-second exposure.

Despite a bit of a rainy start to that day, the night wound up being perfect. A little chilly at the top, but clear enough to see thousands of stars that you inevitably miss out on living in a city, and an all-around beautiful evening to share with new friends.


The crew.
Other adventures of the week include an 11.5-mile trail run with Tom and his friend Laszlo on Cougar Mountain out east, a solo 25K run along Lake Washington and along some urban trails, a MovNat session up in Shoreline yesterday, and an urban night run around Capitol Hill last night with a container of cookies in search of my friend Jenica's apartment for a night of microbrews & Talking Heads & playing games & eating cookies (obviously a big part of my life this week.) I was also all set to go for a long road bike ride with friends on Monday, and go snowshoeing at the foot of Mount Rainier today - but life got in the way of both of those, unfortunately, as it's been a bit of a crazy week in Yitka's Freelance Life...but there will be opportunities again, undoubtedly.

Finally, Oberlin Run-ins of the Week: Walking down a misty street on Capitol Hill one early morning and only running into one other person on the sidewalk, who happened to be none other than Emma, who graduated in the same class at Oberlin as I.

And...one of the students I'm tutoring looked me up on Facebook and saw that we had a mutual friend - someone whom I knew from meeting at the Oberlin alumni picnic this summer, and my student knew because it was his biology teacher from last year. Awesome.

My Life in Boxes, Again + Oberlin Run-in of the Week

Time for a semi-long, semi-reflective entry again, it seems.

I love the night. There's something really peaceful to me about night time, after the sun's gone down and the stores have shut down and the people have gone to sleep and I no longer have a to-do list hanging over me...there's just something lovely about it. Music sounds better; books are more capable of enveloping me in their worlds; my journal entries are more thoughtful; incense smells better; tea is downright fantastic...I just feel at peace.

I've been on such an early schedule kick here that I haven't capitalized much on night times. It's happening tonight, though, due to a crazy busy schedule this week - covering several extra shifts at work for people since flu season has hit Seattle, as well as midterms for many people in school...as well as securing the new apartment, putting in epically long training runs for the marathon, and trying to cram in some nice social time, too. Having a full day planned for tomorrow too (walk to work + early a.m. Keen clinic + late morning hike with coworkers + afternoon/evening Move-In-to-the-New-Place, Phase I), packing tonight has been imperative.

So after an 8-hour work day and a long, luxurious dinner with some old family friends of Seyeon's (sushi appetizers + fresh halibut + delectable Indian dishes + white wine + tea and sorbet for dessert = yum!), I've spent tonight packing for what feels like the twentieth time in the last few years. (After having consulted my memory for a more specific number, I've come up with "14" for number of times I've moved in 5 years - so 20 wasn't so far off the mark after all...hmm.) Coupled with the night time, the whole packing process (naturally, right?) is putting me in a deeply reflective mood.


This again?
First of all, I still can't believe how much junk I have. You'd think that after so many moves in so little time, I'd have all my stuff pared down to a sparse few essentials. And yet packing still feels like a bit of a nightmare every time I do it. Assuming all goes well with the new place, it will be such a huge relief to just be settled for a while - get rid of all the crap I've dragged from place to place to place and never apparently used, and begin acquiring real furniture and artwork and kitchen utensils, rather than using cardboard boxes as night stands and posters to decorate my walls and mooching other people's cheese graters. I'm thrilled!

Move-In-to-the-New-Place, Phase II will happen later in the week, when Alan gets back into town, and we can go claim the rest of the stuff in the storage unit (furniture, yay!) and probably at that point, if not earlier, my beloved kitty cat Chloe! Chloe's been staying with my friend Kyle down in Olympia all this time - both of whom, notably, I visited earlier this week. Had a blast hanging out in downtown Olympia with him and his friend Katie, sampling Northwest microbrews, cooking a bunch of late-night yummy food and catching up for lost time.

At work today, one of my coworkers grabbed me in the back stockroom and was like, "Hey, there's some guy out there who's moving to Ohio and is shopping for winter boots...you want to handle this one?" Turns out the guy was a freshman at Oberlin, at home in Seattle on fall break, and shopping to prep for his first Ohio winter. It was fun to chat with an Obie for awhile, and help him buy the boots I should have gotten four years ago, rather than braving through four of those seasons with sub-par footwear.

More soon, including pictures - of the moving process and also hopefully what's apt to be an awesome, albeit rainy, hike with coworkers tomorrow!

Friends, cupcakes and the great outdoors

So, I feel like my blog is neglecting my life outside of coffee. Ironically, I'm actually neglecting coffee...yes, that's right. I moved to Seattle and am trying to give up coffee. Minus Mondays, I've been caffeine-sober for nearly two weeks now. So, just one cup for my Cup o' Joe Mondays; loyalty to my blog readers is that strong! Otherwise, I'm trying to manage this morning person schedule here without. If I feel I need coffee to make it through my day, I'm obviously not getting enough sleep. The solution? Sleep more.

But...onward! Enough on coffee. I do other things in Seattle too! This holiday weekend in particular was made up almost entirely of work...30 hours, in fact, between Friday evening and Monday. I love my job. The people - coworkers and customers alike - are amazing. I've gotten so many fantastic tips on trails to hike, places to run, gear to utilize, etc. The learning curve was steep but doable, and I'm already feeling cozy and comfortable in my REI vest. Coworkers often bring cookies and cupcakes to share. I get to read the Seattle Times and Runner's World on my breaks. A couple nights ago, I went out for hot chocolate and a long, late-night walk around Seattle with a coworker who also just moved to the area (from North Carolina). Hooray for making friends.


In the past week also, my friend Natalie came to visit Seattle! She stayed with Lu, another close friend (both from high school), and I got to spend a day with them playing around the scenic Seward Park - a small, forested peninsula that hangs off the east side of Seattle into Lake Washington. It seems that motorized boat traffic has been prohibited there, as the lake is unbelievably quiet and placid - and Seward Park scenic and much emptier of the hordes of people that some of the more centrally located parks invite.


A 3-mile path wraps around the park, offering beautiful views of the water, Bellevue and the woods themselves in all their tall-treed and sunshine-poking-through glory. Magic-garden-esque, no?


I was there again the next day, with Alan, as he got to spend a few days in town. We got to take long walks in the park too, play in the water, get ice cream cones, go out for cupcakes with Seyeon (official blog review of Cupcake Royale cafe coming soon!), stroll around Pioneer Square, eat gyros and falafel in an open-air cafe, browse the infamous Elliott Bay Books, stroll around the small mountain town of North Bend about thirty miles east of Seattle, watch a sunset over Green Lake, have the Alaskan Amber on tap that I sampled and fell in love with at the brewery itself when my dad and I were in Juneau last summer.

Life's good.


P.s. And a plug for a new discovery - singer/songwriter Kelly Dalton. I'm loving him, and his "Home" EP captures the mood that Seattle's drizzly, gray mornings give me before the afternoon sun breaks. Check him out if you get a chance.