The Fiery Quill

It has taken 9 years, 3000 miles, 5 bags and a lot of nerve to get to Seattle. And I wouldn't take any of it back. This is only the second full day in my new city, and it already feels like home. This place has always felt that way to me. Seattle has been pulling me back since I spent the summer of 1999 here. It was the best summer of my life, exactly what an almost 21-year old would want. I worked in a neighborhood coffee shop and was best friends with everyone at work. I went to concerts, water parks, street festivals, a nude bike race (yep, it's the truth!) I was able to spend quality sibling time with my older brother, something I hadn't been able to do in quite some time. I lived in Seattle for three months that summer, a time that really changed my life. I was here in the Pacific Northwest again over this past Thanksgiving. The pull to be in Seattle was stronger than it ever had been before. It didn't matter that I would have to quit my job, change coasts, break ...

Amid crowds of hopeful runners dressed in Mickey ears and Tinkerbell wings, Laura and I set out in the pre -dawn blackness. The air was thick with excitement from all the bodies jostling for position. Adrenaline was coursing through our veins, as we blindly entered our first emotional phase of the race: euphoria. This phase is exemplified by cockiness and the phrase, "hey, no problem!" We maintained this air of false confidence all the way through the 6 th mile ("if we keep this pace up, we'll finish in 4-and-a-half hours!") and well into the 12 th . The sun was shining, we both felt good,untouchable even. Little did we know that we were getting ready to hit our first wall....funny how it happend at mile 13. Ironically, things started to fall apart after our first food station. This is when we arrived at the next phase of the race: doubt. The first phase was so blissfully long, that we were lured into a false sense of security. Which is why the next one hit ha...

This past Sunday I visited three amusement parks, got a suntan and ran a marathon: all before lunch. Not to mention going through every possible emotion and getting a blister so big it earned its own nickname (Pinky and the Brain). I felt as though I was running for days, even though it was only for 5 hours and 47 minutes (and 3 seconds). It seemed so long partially because the race began a couple hours before the sun rose. The wake-up call came promptly at 3 am. I remember my first thought being: "whose idea was this?" But it didn't take long for the adrenaline to start flowing. Tying on my pink bandana and strapping on my shoes felt like putting on battle armor. By the time I walked out the hotel door, I was ready. I joined my running partner, Laura, at the staging area where we chatted nervously and sized up the competition. After a final visit to the all-important Port-o-Potty, all the runners made the solemn 10 minute march to the starting line. Hip-hop blared from ...