You’ve Stolen My Heart

This title I could have uttered at numerous moments in the past two weeks.  Close to two weeks ago, three amazing friends and I finished our summer job in Skagway, Alaska, packed our belongings and selves into two cars and drove through British Columbia to California. 

You stole my heart British Colombia! Your landscape is beautiful, your voice is one of compassion, and your patience is rewarding. I wanted to float in your rivers and lakes, get lost amongst your golden yellow trees, and hike your jagged peaks. You also stole my bike.  I was too trusting in our relationship and was hurt.  My friends told me not to trust you, but i was naive.    Still, may our love affair never end.

You stole my heart all the family we visited along the way! It’s funny, we managed to spend at least one day with each of our families on the drive down. First came Vancouver, then Portland, then Bend, then Chico, and finally Oakland. We were homesick, craving a special dose of family, and at each stop we were treated as such.  It was easy to see why I was drawn to these friends in the first place, it was because they were raised in some of the most caring and loving families.

You won’t believe it, but a Seahorse stole my heart in San Francisco.  It was a first for me, meeting a Seahorse that is, and I am yearning to learn more.  Maybe she will let me and not swim away.

With my only bike stolen in Vancouver, I have been forced to run as a means of daily escape from the hectic world.  I have not been having many bicycle adventures lately, and it’s even more difficult without a bike.  I almost feel like I should change the title of my blog. When the temperature dropped with dusk, I set out on a run along the lagoon yesterday.  My legs felt strong, my lungs managed to hang on, and my thoughts were lost in the pinks and purples of the setting sun.  A rabbit darted across the trail in front of me and I about nearly jumped out of my skin.  A whole summer running in Alaska with bears and I was never scared as much as I was by a rabbit in San Diego! 


Under the Cover of a Well Used Blanket

When it comes to cycling, I am in fairly decent shape. I easily put in over a hundred miles a week commuting and mountain biking. When in comes to running, you better lay your bets on someone else.

This morning I woke up with a incredible urge to go for a run. I rolled out of bed, ate a couple pieces of toast (one with peanut butter on it), layered up for the 37 degree weather and set out the door at half past 5am. This time of day has always been my favorite time to run. How can you beat running under the cover of a well used blanket of night sky; as you run the blanket is slowly pulled away to reveal the most amazing colors of the dawns awakening. It is one of the most quiet times of day as well with only minimal traffic on the roads and the promise of another day.

I grew up running. My fourth grade teacher Mr. Saccone is to thank for that. He was a big runner himself and every morning he would take our class out to run around the baseball field area. This fun was enhanced by our keeping track of how far we ran each day, in turn, we would plot our accrued mileage to see how far we had run across the United States. He would also make us half of a sandwich with Laura Scudder’s peanut butter after our runs, probably why it’s my favorite peanut butter to this day.

My relationship with running has been off and on since I graduated high school. It has definitely been a rocky road since having turned 30. Funny how your body just automatically changes at that age. Joints begin to ache and you don’t heal as fast, you actually have to work at staying in shape. My knees have been aching lately when I run. I should say they ache if I haven’t run in a while. The first day back is the worst, which would be today. I had to stop and walk about ten times during my 3-4 mile run because of the soreness. If I continue to run, going no longer than 3-4 days in between so, my knees continue to slowly get better and get into running shape again. It’s a slow process and I need to stop going so long without running. I love to run, the hardest step is just getting out the door. I guess you can say that about many things in life, the first step is always the most difficult, but once you make it you wonder why it seemed so in the first place.