Monterey Bay

Driving down the coast from Santa Cruz to Monterey, we passes amazing bike trails that traversed farmland and dunes. This was my ride, a year and a half ago, when I rode solo down the coast. It was funto relive that adventure a little. Sometimes, life makes no sense, until you chuck it all to the side and view it from a new angle. I'm so glad I had that opportunity.

We spent the morning at Monterey Aquarium and really enjoyed just being together. It seems that our vacation is finally coming through for us. Once we left Utah, my congestion cleared and I stopped coughing almost entirely. Could it be that I am sincerely allergic to Utah?

Yesterday, we drove across Utah, Nevada and California-856 miles of fun which translates to about 15 hours of driving. The highlights were waking at dawn in what I thought was a snowfield at dawn. JE stopped at a rest area and we ran out onto the salt flats if western Utah. They were somehow serene and beautiful, and altogether magical. The distant hills were golden and the salt was very white in a continual sheet that stretched across the valley, perfectly flat. I'd seen photos of the salt flats, but was surprised by them in real life. Not as surprised as I was to look out the window in Nevada and see a crazy wood and stucco structure embedded with bottles and faces made of clay. The Thundermountain Indian Monument was standing alone on the side of the road as we drove past. I asked JE if we could stop, and he conceded. This place was one of the creepiest places I had ever even. Here and there were old rusted out engines, cars, statuary, rotted furniture, and heaps of rocks and junk. The structure it's self was made of bottles and rocks stuck together, some was stuccoed over.

Reno was just plane strange. We stopped for lunch and decided that if you peppered a bit of Vegas into Cleveland and sprinkled in a few mountains, you'd get Reno. Admittedly, we werent there long, but a first impression is a first impression.

Probably the best thing about the trip was checking into our hotel and going for a run to remove some of the stiffness in our bodies. We ran along the beach trail, north to the lighthouse, south and then to the end of the warf. The fog was so thick! And having just left one of the driest states, it was nice to be surrounded by water.

Tonight, JE and I ran south, past the boardwalk amusement park and down to a beach my friends brought me to when I was traveling through on bike. At the north end of the beach is a long spine of rock. It seemed inevitable that we run around the point of the rock, race the incoming waves, but get our new shoes doused with seawater. We continued along the beach, heading north, until we were cut off by a river flowing into the sea. At that point we ran toward the rock, JE was going back to the point, I went for the face. There was a skinny trail etched through the bits of scraggly flora that clung to the rock. Climbing was easy. The rock was barely wider than the trail which traversed from the cliffs at the top of the beach to the point if rock jutting into the sea. We sat at the point, until we got cold then started our run back to the hotel.

Did I mention the trestle bridge? Remember the river? Well, on the way we crossed a bridge. With railroad tracks. And trestles. And graffiti that claimed, "this bridge will fall!" and places where that bridge had fallen. Literally.

I was focused on making sure my feet were centered over the middle of each tie. As a kid, my dad would take my family hiking on the newly built, but not yet operating, railroad trestle bridges that clung to the mountains in our area. Imagine "stand by me" minus the train-track. We would walk the bridges, always afraid we'd fall through the slats. At one point, my sister wedged her foot between the ties and lost her shoe to the hundred foot drop. Those bridges were sound, still scary, but not falling apart.

The trestle bridge tonight was in no way sound. Dry rot and age had deteriorated the ties, and some had fallen to the river below. But, we were halfway across the bridge before we realized this fact. What brought it to my attention was my gut dropping out from under me as I stopped. My next step could have been through a gap wide enough to slip an entire person through onto a rocky riverbed 50 feet below. JE grabbed my hand and reminded me that I could do this. I pointed my flashlight so that it displayed only what was in front of me, not below me, and continued walking.

Most happiness is about perception. Seeing what you have vs seeing what you don't have. I have this sweet, patient, amazing man in my life. He is my best friend, wise advisor, and witty counterpart. He makes me laugh, consoles my sorrow and takes my hand when I am afraid. Does life get better than that? For some, sure. But for me? He is my everything. Others have different means of happiness: nieces and nephews, moms and dads, children or pets. Work? Friends? A place to call home? Maybe money makes you happy. But the lack of any of the desires of your heart, should not be a means of unhappiness. This will be my something to work on in the new year. Changing my attitude and finding my gratitude.

That, and running a marathon.

Later we went to dinner and a funk concert at the Crepe Hut in Santa Cruz. So much fun. OTS which stands for On The Spot, a funky Medeski, Martin and Wood style trio. JE loved it. He was a bit jealous of their equipment.