There’s no bad weather (part II)

or bad clothing in San Diego. 

Here in this southwest corner of the US, the weather couldn’t be better.  Highs in the high 60s, lows in the 50s. Sunny.  People are lovely and helpful. But somehow all this “niceness” is vaguely unsatisfying.  Something is missing.

There are some annoyances.  There are train tracks that separate the convention center from the “downtown” and every night, conveniently about 8-8:30, there’s a 200 car freight train that barrels (if moving at 5mph could be considered “barreling”) through town, and if you’re on the wrong side of the tracks (and of course, i always am), it takes a good 45-60 minutes to cross the street.  That, in and of itself, can’t be helped.  It’s all a matter of planning.  Except the train doesn’t seem to have a schedule.  The best part, though, is while you’re waiting, the traffic light continues to exclaim: “Wait!” every 5 seconds.  Yes. I counted.  I had an hour.  That’s a lot of “waits!”

There’s the frigid condition of the convention center, too.  Why do we Americans feel the need to refrigerate our buildings?  It’s 63F outside.  It can’t be much warmer inside.  Lucky for me it’s a yarn show, so I’m showing off wearing Mekko, a leather jacket, wool tights, boots and a cowl.  In San Diego. Inside a building. And my teeth are still chattering.

But I have been having some fun.  I went to Torrey Pines State Reserve and took a hike on Thursday for my Janathon activity. Torrey Pines’ landscape was striking.  

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Torrey Pines is so named because of the type of pine in this area.  According to interwebs, the pines here are a unique species and only grow between Del Mar and La Jolla, which again, according to the interwebs, is just about 10 miles. The pines are cool looking and have super long needles:

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Friday I did about a month’s worth of activity, all in one day.  First, I had a 4 mile out and back run along the harbor. Lots of boats and ships:

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After my run, I walked to the convention center (.6 miles one-way), set up my booth, returned to the hotel (another .6 miles), rented a bike and took a 5 mlle ride to La Carnitas Snack Shack–which had rave reviews for all things local and pork.  The place was a hole in the wall, only distinguishable by the black pig on its roof.

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I probably shouldn’t count the entire round-trip as 10 miles, though, because while getting there was a bit of a haul (mostly uphill); the return was obviously all downhill, and considering the added weight from the tacos and craft beer I consumed, I was very, very fast.  Until I saw this:

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I screeched to a halt (causing a bit of consternation from the line of cars behind me–yes, in San Diego, there really aren’t bike lanes, many roads belongs to cyclists and there are even road signs attesting to this) and snapped this pic.

THAT is what was missing. There’s no New Jersey in San Diego.  There’s no quirky.  There’s no danger. Drivers watch for cyclists! People are crazy polite and helpful! The weather is consistently nice! Everyday!  There’s no Chris Christie!

Be it ever so humble…

 

 

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