Selkirk Trestle

I cross this trestle almost daily on my journey either to or from work. In the fall, the traffic is light and commuters pass unhurried, rested after the summer’s adventures.

The winter routinely brings a level of precipitation that can only be experienced living in the Pacific Northwest. If not slick with rain, the wooden boards are usually covered with a thin layer of frost. For the early morning commuters this means hugging the right-hand railing, clinging to the precious few inches that the sun might have warmed.

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Leaving at my usual time, the spring affords me a few cherished weeks where I can catch the suns first rays breaking over the downtown core. This sight is saved only for a lucky few.

During the summer, the crossing is typically covered with fair-weather commuters, and I only say this as my means of transportation is limited. The weekday warriors weave through one another with the same intensity that Luke Skywalker navigated the Death Star trench. Meanwhile, rowers practicing for summer corporate challenges pass underneath, oblivious to the rat race just meters above their heads.

Today I passed over the Gorge waterway not once, but twice, both times accompanied by Cater. In the morning, we rode bikes once reserved solely for racing, only to traverse the weather beaten beams later that afternoon on foot. And once again I enjoyed every footstep.

Training:

Monday: day off (scheduled)

Tuesday: easy 47:00