Canyon water fountain, vintage park.
I was in Portland and Arch Cape, OR last week for Spring Break with my boy (s) while my girl was in Washington DC on a student governement visit. It was heaven to run at sea level, and in the clean air and humidity. It was a bit rainy the first days, but I always carved out a time to run when it was dry. Running the on the loney cold, flat sanded beaches with rolling waves as far as the eye could see, surrounded by cliffs and mountains is nothing short of majestic. The trails in the mountains along the coast are heaven. There is nothing but the quiet padding of your own feet along pine needles with the sound of the ocean somewhere distant. The beauty, the green, the clean air refreshed my soul. The days just before or after ski season are painful, frustrating depressing ones for me. They are filled with dreary days, not yet one season or the next. Oregon renewed me as I rested my eyes upon the greenery and the misty, mysterious clouds clingining to the mountain tops. There is nothing compared to running on the coast of Oregon. In the year 2000 I had a conference for work at a resort at Mount Hood. There was a 5 mile loop around the mountain. I will never forget how cold it was in July, and how many rasberries I ate along my run, or how the sound of a rushing river was never far. I know a lot of wacked out weirdos live in Oregon. But when I'm done raising kids, I think that's where I'm headed.
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