Westlake

I went for a run on Westlake Avenue North yesterday afternoon. It was gray and misty with a light rain that eventually modulated into a soft, skin-tingling drizzle. I like to run on Westlake. I find it very calming to run along a lake. There are plenty of businesses along the sidewalk, most of which are devoted to boats and yachts, but there are also dental offices, insurance companies, psychotherapists, physical therapists, acupuncturists, chiropodists, beauty salons, architects, an injury law office, a Chinese restaurant housed in a colossal windowless cube covered in black tile called China Harbor, Seattle Scuba dive training, the Cone and Compass Ice Cream Shop, houseboat communities, a small business selling hot tubs, and – my personal favorite – Kenmore Air, providing seaplane flights & scenic tours. There’s even a dance school. A kayak and stand up paddleboard rental business caught my eye and I stepped into a puddle and felt cold water seep through to my sock. A little further down I came to a short stretch of train track between Boatworld Marinas and Signature Yachts with tree branches arching overhead giving it a tunnel-like appearance and had to quickly navigate an archipelago of puddles between the rails.  Anytime you go for a run in Seattle you’re liable to get your feet wet, especially in the winter. No matter. One’s feet never stay cold for long since you’re carrying your own source of heat. You become your own furnace. And the nice thing about not belonging to a gym is you can run nearly anywhere; all you need is a little open space, some quiet streets or a well-kept trail. It's nice to get away from the upper Queen Anne neighborhoods. There’s been a lot of tension recently over the issue of feeding crows, a practice I began several years ago that escalated into a huge congeries of crows following me everywhere. Locals began to complain. They discovered peanut shells on their roofs and rain gutters. Some complained of peanut shells in their garden. When I engage with these people, however maniacal they may be and gnashing their teeth, I try to be polite and feign a degree of sympathy. I don’t want conflict, and choose not to argue, however flimsy their complaints may be. What roof doesn’t fill with fallen leaves & twigs? What yard doesn't become littered with windblown detritus? I think what really bothered them was the number of crows interacting with a human being. It disturbs them. It’s outside the norm, the vectors of control. So they make stupid excuses for not feeding crows. I can't stop feeding crows while they’re everywhere around me begging for a peanut. It’s too sad. So I decided to go down to Westlake where there are more ducks and geese than crows. It’s rather nice to be able to run like I used to and not stop to feed a murder of crows, or worry, as I go running down the street trailed by a swarming murder of noisy crows about getting the stink-eye from a property owner.