A beautiful 2 1/2 hour run!! From the corner of Hamilton and Smith, past BC Place, along the seawall through Stanley Park and back. Had to double back and do a loop around Lost Lagoon because the seawall was closed. Storms late in the year destablized much of the seawall and downed trees closed the trails. No worries, though! Saw the sun come up and paint the mountians pink. Saw tankers waiting to steam in to port. Low uncertain clouds relenting to blue sky and calm water. Between cold and cool the whole way. Didn't drink from my water bottles until late in the run. Felt good the whole way and finished strong. Actually sprinted the last few blocks, went up to the apartment, grabbed my wallet, ran back down Smith to the 7-11 to get a Vancouver Sun, then sprinted to The Edge to get a three-berry muffin (still warm from the oven) and sprinted back to the apartment (slight uphill on the way).
Coffee, lots of water, huge bowl of cereal, fruit, muffin. Read the paper. Walked down to Pender and explored McLeod's Used Books -- a funky old building where a book bomb went off. Curled up on a chair and read a book about life in a Japanese Zen monastary. Then wrote for an hour in the library.
Afterwards walked to Urban Fare Market -- another explosion of goodness (does the goodness never stop in this city? in this country?). The bakery alone could be its own store.
Took the little ferry to Granville Island. Oh, the market -- a riot of delicio-sity, an edible mandala. Whereas in FL you have to hunt for something organic, here you can't swing your hemp grocery bag without hitting something that is: meat, seafood, fruit, vegetables, indian, mexican, italian, sausages. My favorite sign: I'm organic, bite me!
I made two stops at the Terra Bread Co. Once for a rosemary-olive oil demi-loaf, which I ate while wandering. Then I had to go back for a asiago-parmesean demi-loaf. On my way out, feeling a bit sleepy, I bought a small container of roasted red pepper/tomato/garlic sauce from the Stock Market (just soups, stocks, sauces). I envisioned dipping and beer when I got back.
I almost didn't take the ferry back -- couldn't find my return ticket. The captain saw me rummaging in my backpack; I mumbled that I was looking for my ticket. After a few minutes and with a few passengers waiting on the boat, he said,"Find your ticket?"
"No." I'd pretty much given up and figured I would walk the Granville Bridge back over. "How do I get to the bridge?"
"What's the ticket look like?"
"Green. Small. Rectangular. Folded in to three pieces. Black writing on it."
"Good enough for me. Hop aboard."
"Oh, man. Thanks a bunch."
"Hey, Bob's your uncle."
Walking through Yaletown, a satisfying fatigue laying over me like a mist turning to drizzle turning to rain, I thought, "This has been a good day."
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