An Urban Boychick Takes on the Outdoors

At a job interview the other week I was asked whether I was a runner. I wasn't sure how to answer. I took up running when Teddy was an infant, since it was a way to exercise which could be done at the drop of a hat (baby's asleep? I'm going for a run!). Still, after eighteen years I think of myself as someone who runs rather than as a runner. In fact, when I gave up running entirely for a while while recovering from a herniated disk what I missed was not the running but the opportunity to start my day outdoors. I've never been a distance runner. My normal morning run is about 5KM in length and I've never gone much further than this distance. As I reach the end of my runs I often think about whether I could push further, but I'm usually time-constrained and so have never explored greater distances. Today, despite (because of?) being a little fuzzy from having slept poorly, I decided it was time. I ran my 5K route, then turned around and immediately started runni...

Last year I accidentally stumbled into the Rolling Thunder Rally. I went on one of my early Sunday morning paddles out of Columbia Island Marina, not thinking about how close it was to the Pentagon parking lot gathering point for the rally. This year I repeated the experience with the foreknowledge that I'd be running into the bikers. My trip on the Potomac was uneventful save for the sound of a thousand Harley V-Twin engines roaring along the shore. The magic of the river is such that I could be aware both of a heron gliding noiselessly over the river - a pristine natural scene - while also being aware of the flow of Softtails, Electraglides, Sportsters, choppers, trikes, and bobbers along the GW Parkway. After I got off the water I strolled through the LBJ Memorial Grove and over the footbridge to the Pentagon parking lot. Holy cow - thousands of bikers and their bikes all lined up for the event. Quite a scene. I was probably a little conspicuous, being the only guy there n...

"Can you see the real me, can ya', can ya'?" Friday The old Who song is blasting on XM radio as I crest the Bay Bridge. So, who is the real me? Is it the family man getting kids out the door to school this morning, loading the dishwasher, taking out the trash? Or is it the guy skimming east on Rt. 50, about to spend the weekend camping and paddling at the beach with friends? Or any one of several other versions of me? Sometimes it seems my life is made up of pieces from several different puzzles. Well, this much is revealed for sure: long drives give me too much time to ruminate. I have an uneventful drive - just a little traffic here and there in DC and again through the traffic lights in Easton, Maryland. There was evidently some sort of classic car gathering out on the Eastern Shore this weekend and so I got entertainment all the way down Rt. 50, marveling at many Mustangs (including two nitrous injected monsters), a '71 Chevelle, a ’68 Camaro, and...

I decided to take care of gardening chores first today and so didn't make it to the river until 2 PM. A beautiful spring day but it reminded me of why I like the mornings - in the afternoon the marina is a madhouse of boat traffic. Got knocked about pretty well by a powerboat which throttled up to max as soon as he got past the No Wake buoy. I ran into Kurt and Chuck H as I pulled into the marina. Chuck has a masterful homemade rig which enables him to carry a kayak on a Miata. A beautiful, functional piece of woodworking - you might say it even enhances the appearance of the car. As I made my way upriver I spotted someone loading a sea kayak onto a car in the Roosevelt Island parking lot. It was David L, who was later than usual as well because of torah study and a make-up yoga class. Oh, and it was Turtle Day on the Potomac. The combination of chilly water and warm sun prompted every turtle in the river to climb up onto a log to get some sun. The turtles were everywhere. ...

Today I did my first Sunday morning jaunt of the year. On nice Sunday mornings, while Valerie does school-related work and the boys sleep in, I slip out and do a quick paddle from Columbia Island Marina, usually to Fletcher's Cove and back (about 10 miles round trip). These are usually solitary outings, as not too many people are interested in being up and at the marina at seven o'clock Sunday morning. I was surprised, then to see Pastor Pete pull in while I was unloading my boat. I must digress and say that I have three kayaking friends named "Peter H.", and so I have chosen to refer to them by occupation. Only two figure into this story, so you won't find any mention of Peter H the Proposal Cost Volume Book Boss, which is just as well, since that's a lot to type. Pastor Pete and I know each other mostly through the online paddling world, but we have kayaked together here and there in the past. It's surprising to see him on a Sunday; as you might expe...