Yo! Yo-yo!

The city of Hillsboro has got a fixation. They want to make it into the Guinness Book of World Records. Three years ago it was trying to get the record for the largest number of people in one place all wearing Groucho Marx glasses at one time. The next year they tried to get the record for the most people in one place all playing the kazoo at once.

This year, it was yo-yos.

Each year, the city shuts down Main street and holds a Celebrate Hillsboro party, with booths and games and bands. Everyone who wanted to participate in breaking the record gathered in the plaza (after filing through a turnstile for counting purposes). City officials handed out yo-yos and gave instruction on how to use them. They also had some experts in the crowd. One guy in particular was amazing.



One of my goals is finding cheap free ways to get out and socialize, and this definitely qualified. They didn't make the world record, but people had a good time.



Plus, I got a free yo-yo.
You never know when that might come in handy.

Exercise du jour: I walked one whole mile. My knee was less than thrilled with me, but I did it.

Forget Vegas, women find water romantic

Forget Vegas and its 24-hour wedding chapels, Oregon is the quick path to romance.

Went up to the Columbia River Gorge a couple weeks ago. At Latourell Falls, there was a couple down by the base of the fall, kissing each other with the passionate intensity usually associated with the kind of situation where the man proposes and the woman accepts. (Or the other way 'round, I suppose.)

Latourell Falls, minus the kissing couple

The next convenient waterfall along the Gorge is Wakheena Falls. When we got there, there was another couple getting their engagement photo taken by a professional photographer. Their grins were fixed in place, as if the photographer were taking rather a long time to find the shot that would show the world their love.

Wakheena Falls, without the engaged couple

Then we went to the next waterfall, Multnomah Falls. This is a popular place for weddings.

Multnomah Falls... it ain't possible to take a photo of this falls without people in the shot.

By this time, I was starting to see the pattern. The next stop along the road was a campground, presumably a honeymoon spot. I put my foot firmly on the gas pedal and kept right on going.

Exercise du jour: I've had this kickboxing video sitting on my shelf for... um... okay, since Christmas, okay? It's been making the shelf feel like it has a purpose in life, so it's not as if it's been totally useless. I figure I'm never going to crack open the DVD unless I post it publicly up here, and maybe I can do the exercises without pounding the damn foot. Worth a try.

Oh crap. Not done, but for an embarrassing reason. I can't find the friggin' DVD. Maybe I left it on the shelf so long it crumbled into dust? There does seem to be an unaccountable amount of dust on that shelf, which I am loath to put down to my housekeeping skills.
On the other hand, I sure as shooting got a damn good workout today. Planted trees, which involved quite a bit of hard labor and sweating and high-caloric swearing. So I done good. Just not the good I'd planned to do.

Latourell Falls photo courtesy of gharness


Multnomah Falls photo courtesy of travis S.

Beavers in Beaverton? What's next, farms in Berkeley?

One thing I like about Oregon is its tendency toward hidden parks.



Behind the huge grocery store, a narrow path leads you past an apartment complex. If you walk between the tall, gloomy buildings, you find yourself on a pleasantly shaded walking path along a stream.

Follow the path down to the bridge over the small lake, and a horde of ducks make a beeline straight toward you.



The other day, back when it was sunny and summery still, I took a walk there at lunchtime. It was a marvelous feeling to escape, even if only for an hour. The people-in-charge-of-parks had started to renovate the bridge, but they had to stop because they discovered beavers had built a dam there.

Couldn’t see the beavers, but it’s kinda cool to know that the original inhabitants haven’t been completely evicted by us newcomers.

Exercise du jour: Walking. Keep it simple and I might just make it.

The title explained: There used to be... maybe still is... a company called Berkeley Farms, who sold milk and had the slogan "Farms? In Berkeley?" It's hard to imagine any agriculture going on in a densely crowded city like that.

A walk on the edgy side

Went for a hike out at Cape Lookout. I'd expected it to be a mere walk, but actually we spent hours scrambling over tree roots or around obstacles. The muscles around my ankles were sore, though the rest of my leg muscles were fine.

And it was one of those rare days when the coast is warm, sunny, and windless. The Pacific resembled a lake more than an ocean.


Bad luck for the paragliders and surfers, good luck for me.

My only complaint was that the trail was a bit close to the edge. As in right next to it.


And there are parts of the trail where you can look about 800 feet down... a few inches from your foot. Did I mention my fear of heights?

Still, it was a beautiful day.

Exercise du jour:
Sunday: 4 hours hiking. Tuesday: 1 hour walking.



I am a little troubled about my exercise companion. Two years ago, we went on a hike and she left me in the dust. (But in a nice, non-judgmental way.) Now, she kept having to stop every five minutes to take a break. A hike that's supposed to take 2-1/2 to 3 hours took us 4.

The problem is we're supposed to participate in a run/walk in a few weeks, one that we have to finish within a certain time frame or we'll get picked up by a van. (The route crosses a bridge that's only closed to traffic for a couple hours.) I really don't see how we can make it if she has to keep taking a break. The last thing I want to do is push too hard and have her collapse from exhaustion.

I'm not used to being the more-fit one. It feels very odd.

Framing Kansas, the Seven Dwarves, and sundry annoyances

Topographical map from Maps.com

Got a beautiful, artistic topographical map of Oregon, so I wanted to get it framed. The woman had to trim a couple inches off the side, but she apparently had difficulties because she couldn't make the state look 'square.' Apparently she'd prefer to only frame maps of Kansas.

Anyway, people were staring at me like I was a complete nut. Framing a map?
One woman asked if I were a teacher doing this for a project.
"No, I like maps."
"Oh." Blank stare.
I tried again. "I like to know the area where I live. For example, that mountain over there," I waved my hand south. "What's its name?"

From the Yamhill County website

She looked at me with gentle pity. "Mount Hood," she said.

Mount Hood is east of Portland. Has been for years. Plus it's about 10,000 feet taller.

"Um, no. If you go south toward Newberg, you climb over a mountain.* Do you know its name?"
Another blank stare. At her side, the saleslady also frowned, deep in thought. Then they both shrugged and went back to framing the thirteen identical pictures of the woman's toddler.

Maybe it is strange, but knowing the names of places makes me feel that I'm not living in a void. Names give a landscape solidity. That's not quite the right word, but they act like anchors to ground you in the world around you.

Seems strange to me that people could live in a valley, drive around it every day, and not feel part of the place. It's a vague backdrop that fades into insignificance compared to important matters, such as what's on television that night.


Becoming 5 of the 7 Dwarves

At last count, I am Bashful, Sleepy, Dopey, Grumpy, and Wheezy.**
Not Happy, though I did go to see Doc. She said the coughing et al. sounds like asthma, take this, and that, get seven samples of blood drawn and take three more tests at different doctors' office.

I'll say this for her, she's thorough.

One of the tests I have to take is at the office of Dr. Watson, which immediately made me think of how many times this man has had to hear Sherlock Holmes jokes since he got his degree.

It's nice to be able to apply a label to the coughing and shortness of breath, and it's a lot better than some of the possibilities that it could have been, but I'm still miffed. How am I supposed to exercise if I can't breathe good? Hopefully the drugs will help so that I can get out and do things instead of being a couch potato.



*If you drive from Hillsboro to Newberg, you cross over the Chehalem mountains.

**Wikipedia and Walt Disney are in a conspiracy to make people think the 7th dwarf is named 'Sneezy,' but I like my version better. Artistic license.

Fireworks, kazoos, and Oregonians

I don't know if I'm going to fit in here.

Case in point: the 4th of July.
In California, it is drummed into you that you light fireworks, even illegal fireworks, on concrete or at least away from as many combustibles as possible.

In Oregon, I watched my neighbors light fireworks that shot up 60 feet (alas, not an exaggeration) ... from their nicely tree covered backyards.


A native tried to explain it to me. "Oh, you know, things happen. But if you set your neighbor's roof on fire, just bring the hose over and tell them you didn't mean to do that."

Oh, well, that's okay then. Good to know these things.

I've got odd neighbors anyway. Not in the same category as some people, but interesting none the less. My neighbors on one side, staunch red state rednecks, told me at great length about the neighbors next to them. Gangbangers, he called them, not once, not twice, about seven times. I kept wanting to quote Inigo from The Princess Bride. "You keep using that word... I do not think it means what you think it means..." But a quick look at the Urban Dictionary assures me that it is indeed a word for gangster. Learned something new.

Also, although this is quite definitely suburbia, one of my neighbors has a rooster in his backyard. That seems really bizarre to me. Probably the zoning laws were drawn up with the same approach as the fireworks. With luck, I will turn into a mellow person by hanging around these people.


And the town is trying to make something of itself. It's trying to become the city with the most Guinness World Records. “Hillsboro currently holds two official Guinness records: In 2006, 1,874 residents donned balloon hats to claim that record. In 2007, 3,459 people put on Groucho Marx glasses.”

If you're in town next weekend, stop by to help make history. They are going to try to set the record for the most number of people gathered in one place at one time... wait for it...
... playing the kazoo.

http://www.oregonlive.com/news/argus/index.ssf?/base/news/1211912403278030.xml&co


On the exercise side, I think that this stupid coughing situation is an allergy. Some days I can exercise (cycled to work twice last week, 10 miles each), and other days I'm so worn out that my To Do list is just breathing.

The good news is that the coughing fits are just an allergic response. The bad news is that one of the main triggers is talking to my co-worker. Kinda screwed there.

Excuses, excuses

Not been a good start to the week. Though I'm no longer a valid invalid, I still can't stop coughing and sneezing. I have been giving out lots of gratuitous and unreliable exercise advice on Cranky Fitness. Does that count as exercise? No, I didn't think so.

Plus we're still getting hit with the tail-end of that typhoon. Just now the wind was so strong it was actually shaking the long building of townhouses where I live -- which is a neat trick. This area is pretty sheltered, with lots of... lovely tall trees... oh dear. No, seriously, probably no worries. I might drown, but I doubt a tree will do me in while I sleep.


In other words, no, I didn't run today. And I'm not going for it tonight either. We'll see what tomorrow brings. Maybe a fresh set of excuses. On the other hand, maybe I should take some thought to taking up swimming.


Pictures of an Oregon park courtesy of flickr.

Putting the 'cross' into cross-training

Want to forget all your troubles? Wear shoes one size too small. Trust me, after an hour or so you won't be thinking about your troubles. -anonymous

Whatever doesn't destroy me, makes me stronger. -Nietzsche

Whatever doesn't destroy me, makes me lose weight. -Mary


So a friend, in an effort to distract me from the troubles that beset me, says to me "Hey! Let's escape the city and take a hike in the woods!" Sounded like a good idea, so I said yes. I didn't recognize the location she'd mentioned, nor did I look it up in a guide book until I was standing outside my door Sunday morning waiting for her to pick me up.

My friend assured me that someone had told her that Saddle Mountain was a 'quite easy climb.' And it's 5 miles round trip, 2.5 miles one way. How hard could it be?

Ahem. A brief interlude from a guide book:

While not high compared to the Cascade peaks, this mountain is one of the highest peaks in the northern half of Oregon's Coast Range and the highest northwest of Portland. (from Summit post)

Yeah. Did I look at that before I leapt hiked? Of course not. I was so green a hiker that when advised to take water, I grabbed a couple of bottles of the carbonated water that I drink as a substitute for sodas. (Note: these bottles did have several pluses, to wit: a)internal cooling (applied via my mouth), b)external cooling (applied inadvertently to my T-shirt), and c)endless amusement (inferred by the sight of the other hikers in the area coughing vigorously in an attempt to keep from rolling on the ground in helpless laughter at watching me attempt to avoid the spray once I had opened a bottle after a couple of hours of its being jostled in a backpack).


My hiking companion is quite fit, when it comes to walking/hiking/running. When I bicycle with this woman, I can quite easily leave her in the dust, because she's not used to bicycle riding. (For one thing, she will not believe that her seat is too low and that's why her knees hurt when she rides.) However, when it comes to exercising off the bicycle, she leaves me in the dust every time. She was good-natured about waiting for me while I took little breaks to do something trivial like, oh, breathe.

The outward hike was almost continual uphill. Towards the top I was using my hands and almost climbing rather than hiking. It took us 2-1/2 hours to make it to the top, and another 1-1/2 hours to go back down. [Briefly, Mary swerves into rant mode.] And do you know what my friend wanted to do the last mile of the trail? She wanted to jog, that's what. I haven't even started my jog/walk program, and suddenly I'm jogging down a steep trail in hiking boots. My legs felt like jelly by the end of that mile.[Okay, enough with the rant. I feel much better now. Just had to get that off my chest.]



What this climb taught me is the importance of cross-training. I could quite easily have ridden a bicycle for four hours. But considering how my legs felt like jelly after the hike, it's amazing how stiff they now feel. I skipped exercise completely yesterday, and it's still hard to get up or sit down without feeling it in my calves and quadriceps. (That's what puts the 'cross' into cross-training.)

I'm adding hiking and jogging to my To Do list, but... next time I'm going to set my sights a bit lower. So to speak.

But it was very nice to end the hike by going to the extremely warm coast (Seaside, 80 degrees at 7pm?) and cooling our toes in the extremely chilly waters of the Pacific. This is a shot of Tillamook head (with elbow) that I took to symbolize the end of the journey.