A long week for me, missing my wife and daughter, and I finally reach my last day in Seattle.  It’s a little cooler this a.m. so I throw on my running shoes, grab my iPod shuffle and listen to Seattle’s own and one of my favorite bands, Alice in Chains, and I’m out the door for a long run.

I run past the Experience Museum, a tribute by one of the other founders ofMicrosoft, Paul Allen, to his musical hero, Jimi Hendrix.  It’s a funky building that from the east side looks like a number of overlapping silver waves, punctuated at street level by the occasional oddly-shaped window.  Heading around the south side down Broad Street and the main entrance, it becomes a mish-mash of a bad cartoonist’s imagining of an acid trip, a little too cliché and obvious, but typical coming from a man with an intellect likely unburdened by illicit drugs and who, during his formative years, remain locked in a room with nothing more than a slide rule and a strong desire to get one over on the jocks that made those formative years a living hell.  S’cuse me while I kiss the sky… 

Next up is the Space Needle, the throng of tourists thick, all waiting to pay a fairly exorbitant sum to ride an elevator into the clouds and peer Chevy Chase-like over the Sound as the container ships slice north through the chilly water toward distant, exotic destinations. 

After the tourist spots Broad Street takes a steep dive down toward Alaska Way and the waterfront.  At the bottom of the street I take a right hand turn away from the restaurants and tourists sites and enter Elliott Bay Park, a beautiful verdant shoreline park for runners, walkers, bikers, and folks just plain relaxin’ on the rolling mounds of city-planned green grass and enjoying the panoramic views across Puget Sound.  I love it down here.  The path follows the shoreline in lazy arcs as I run north toward the interbay access.  The bay is still glassy at this early hour.  The shore is lined with coffin-sized driftwood trunks, beautifully weathered white-grey, and the water is surprisingly clear, revealing thick, algae-covered rocks just beneath the surface.  It is far more rugged than the aquarium-like warm waters of my home state of Florida, and the vastness of the Sound only emphasizes how small we are in the grander scheme. 

The trail makes a hard right turn to the east at the interbay access, a couple of large canals with rail spurs for all sorts of large industrial ships and cruiseliners.  Across the canal I see several large ships, including the Endeavor, the Katie Ann, and the Ocean Rover.  When I hit the turnaround at the corner of Gater and 16^thAvenues West, I stop and check my chronograph (25 minutes on the nose) and perform some half-hearted leg stretches. I begin the return trip and when I reach the shoreline at the end of the access, I look up and out over the bay I see a huge jetliner flanked by a couple of small jets.  Images of 9/11 flash through my brain, but the jetliner is heading south, directly in line with the runways over at Boeing, and I figure they’re testing a new jet.  Still, it is an odd sight.

When I am back near Broad Street I cut up through Olympic Sculpture Park, a huge greenspace above Elliott Avenue where public art is displayed.  It’s a beautiful park, lots of grass and packed stone trails, all seemingly built to match the contours of the surrounding area, blending well with Elliott Bay Park and the urban landscape to the east. 

Layne Staley is in my head as I leave Olympic Park.  Good thing, too, I need the company as I focus on putting one foot in front of the other whilst I climb back up Broad Street, my calves fairly screaming as I pass the Space Needle and the throngs of tourists, back across busy city streets and once again running past the Experience Museum.

I’m immersed in all things Seattle as Layne’s voice bounces around my noggin singing No Excuses,and as I finish my run I become a little sad.  Jerry Cantrell wrote the song about his dysfunctional relationship with Layne because of Layne’s addictions, which he eventually succumbed to, but more than that I think in the end it’s a song about unconditional friendship, which is a beautiful thing. 

You my friend

I will defend

And if we change, well I

Love you anyway*

I'll miss Seattle, and I miss Layne. 

*Alice In Chains, from No Excuses, lyrics by Jerry Cantrell