Sweat is trickling down your brow now, your thighs and calves are warm and working as they're intended, your mind wandering with your eye; a green and white ferry leaves Coleman Dock, a red and white Coast Guard cutter steams into Elliott Bay, seagulls squawk. A friendly female jogger smiles as she passes coming the other way, you wipe your forehead with your wrist and begin to round Duwamish Head, breathing rhythmically, feeling the sun's glow, smelling salt air. Into full view strides the Olympics, the twin peaks of The Brothers most prominent, their shoulders cloaked in fading snow.
By Greg Johnston | June 23, 2005
