Thursday, April 17, 2008

Artichoke

The sun has risen over the hills as I drive down the Pacific Coastline. It is a stunningly beautiful morning. Crisp, cool and clear. Blue sea melts into blue sky, not a cloud in sight, a white line of foam with sea gulls diving in for breakfast. Quiet, deserted beaches, and rock formations showered by foamy waves, full of life.

I resist the temptation to walk by the water, and drive inland to Pescadero.

I am in a small farming town, fruit and vegetable orchards hedge the few houses, with rolling green hills beyond. There is a single tavern, closed, grimy windows reminiscent of a John Wayne movie. The Mexican store across the road is doing brisk business, as runners line up for the restroom, then wander in to sample the food. A quiet walk takes me to the church, and then a pretty little bridge over a tiny river.

I register, then select an artichoke, the prize awarded in advance, finding it a cool spot in my car, and wander back to the start line. I am at the back of the pack of some sixty odd runners, an easy camaraderie setting in as we realize how small the race is. We set off, some ten minutes late, running by strawberry fields, the sun now hot. Entering the hills, we feel the heat, as the long uphill stretches ahead.

There are occasional houses, whose quiet I envy, one with a little lake to watch grandchildren grow by.

A woman rides by on her bicycle, encouraging me on, then promising me ‘air-conditioning’ in the second half of the race. The course is in the shape of a Y, with two turn backs, and I see the quicker runners go by on the other side of the road, as I plod on the long uphill to Butano State Park.

Entering the second leg of the Y, I see the point about the air-conditioning. Tall coastal redwoods hide the sun, and it is suddenly cool, and I run on the padded trail by the road.

This race does not have mile markers, and I have to estimate my pace by gut feel. The open road is now cooler, a sea breeze providing relief, and it now feels downhill all the way, as I try to pick up the pace. I sense I will not have to walk at all, and push myself. My earlier best was 2 hours and 21 minutes, and I hope for 2.15, as I pass a few runners, pulling myself upright, self congratulatory at having conserved energy earlier.

The bag of bones protests, but I begin to recognize land marks, finally getting to the home stretch. Age, and Physics, beat me though, and I clock in at 2.17, quite happy with the performance.

Later, that night, we place the artichoke in a jar of 151 proof rum, and I promise to write a note to my second granddaughter, who I gift it to. I see her in my mind’s eye, playing by a lake, sweet, innocent, full of fun, happy and smiling, listening to a story. I wonder when she will be born, and who to, and this little time capsule forms a link to the future that, like a hand firmly grasped through a hole, will pull me through to the sunlight on the other side.

Escalator Pitch: Shin Yokohama

We have traveled through Japan all day, with a lot of luggage, and a large demo kit in an outsize box. Finally at Shin Yokohama station, we are confronted by a staircase, and ask if there is an escalator or elevator we can take. A Ticket Collector directs us to a turnstile. Beyond that, we see an escalator going up – and a cab rank downstairs. We think there is a mistake, and ask the girl at the counter. She says Chotto Matte Kudesai (please wait a moment) and heads down a flight of steps. We see a policeman stop the traffic on the escalator. When it is clear, she turns a key and hits some buttons. The escalator stops, then changes direction! Arigato Guzaimasu!!! Japanese kindness is just incredible.

My boss remarks : ‘Try getting that done in New York!!!’