www.carolineandtony.com

On the Run, Golden Gate Park edition

March 17th, 2006 Caroline

At the risk of losing one of our few readers, one more tour of the neighborhood before returning to our regularly scheduled motheringbakingreading broadcast…

Sometimes the wind off the ocean is just too much for me, so I head east. This is risky, from a length-of-run perspective, as it takes me past Arizmendi and the smell of fresh cheese rolls — so rich and chewy, a vegetarian’s pork bun, a friend once said — might just derail me.

If I get past Arizmendi, there’s not too much to tempt me. Gordo’s, Sliders, and Park Chow are all still closed; Hotei is getting its fish delivery and though I love the restaurant, the smell of the fish speeds me up.

Then I just have to hope the light’s green, or I’m stuck at the stinkiest corner in the city. Seriously, I don’t know what’s wrong with the sewer right there, but in the ten years or so I have been travelling this route the smell here never fails to take my breath away.
But then I’m in the park and can breathe deeply again. The only problem with running here is that I don’t get the gratification of measurable progress. Running toward the ocean, I click off the avenues as I go. In the park, I run great slow loops along the paths, around the duck pond and the fountain, zoning out until finally my knees tell me it’s time to head home. Along the way, I check the progress of the cherry, magnolia, and crabapple trees, all starting to bud out. The rhodies and azaelas are still bare right now but the bulbs (hyacinth and tulips and daffodils) are blooming in careful beds outside the conservatory.
I see wigeons and coots and buffleheads — I love their names–at the duck pond, plus a stack of turtles basking on a rock in the sun. Sometimes there’s a great blue heron lurking in the shadows. I want to stop and watch him, see if he’ll fly; his wings stretch out as wide as I am tall, and he beats them so slowly it’s a wonder they lift him. But he outlasts me every time, a gray statue overseeing the smaller birds.
Finally, if I’m early enough, a group of Chinese ladies near the arboretum entrance, in baggy pants and loose tops, practicing tai chi. Their slow moves resemble the heron’s, and I hope that when I’m too creaky to run anymore, they’ll let me join them.

Entry Filed under: General