Every day brings a new adventure.

So I didn’t mind so much when Thursday passed by rather uneventfully.

Not a bad view for running. Thanks, Woodinville.

Not a bad view for running. Thanks, Woodinville.

I took my first opportunity to sleep in as the journey continued in Seattle, and I am pretty sure I really needed it. I think I was still catching up on life beyond Sunday’s 19-inning affair at Rogers Centre. Everyone kind of had their own individual plans for the day, so I opted to stay at Conor and Cheryl’s place in order to try and get some work done and really to just relax a little bit as well. As great as the working vacation through Vancouver, Seattle and Japan has been and is going to be, I think I need to take my opportunities to catch up wherever I can.

Conor left early in the morning to do his job as the Cleveland Indians Pacific Northwest Scout, seeing a team from Washington and a team from north of the border (I am really excited that Canada is a part of his territory)! Well, that was his plan anyway, and it didn’t happen because the Canadian guys didn’t show up. He saw the first team and then waited an additional two hours for the Canucks. I can’t believe they didn’t get there, but I am sure they said ‘sorry’ a lot, in the Canadian accent of course. So, that’s the life of a scout – wait, wait, wait, oh nothing – basically.

One of the houses I passed while running, with what I swear is a moat around their house, just without water.

One of the houses I passed while running, with what I swear is a moat around their house, just without water.

Cheryl and Aly took off for manicure-pedicure appointments in the morning as I still slept, so Nathan was the last man standing at the house, putting in some solid (probably work) time on his computer. When I awoke from my slumber I joined him in pounding away at my keyboard and attempting to finish at least some of the things I had previously started. When Aly and Cheryl got back, Aly and Nathan soon left for an appointment they’d made that afternoon, and Cheryl set to finishing making cake balls.

What was left of the cake balls by the time a picture could be taken, courtesy of Cheryl Glassey, best ever. (Photo credit: Alyson Boyer Rode)

What was left of the cake balls by the time a picture could be taken, courtesy of Cheryl Glassey, best ever. (Photo credit: Alyson Boyer Rode)

Cake balls are amazing, first of all. Let me interrupt this portion of the post to tell you a little bit about them. I was first introduced to the delicious wonder when I lived in North Carolina and was interning for Baseball America. Or maybe it was when I went back the next year during the draft. It doesn’t matter, they should have been in my life sooner. Cheryl makes the best everything, so it would follow that she makes the best cake balls. They are exactly as they sound, balls of cake, but better. And, quite honestly, too much work for me. There are a lot of steps in making cake balls. First you have to make the cake, then you have to let it cool and crumble it, then icing has to be added to the crumbled mixture (also, I am probably not accurate on this topic), they have to be rolled into balls, then they have to sit in the fridge for a while, and then they are dipped in chocolate coating and finally, Cheryl makes them all fancy-looking. Well, I guess the actual final step is that I eat them all, or as many as I can before feeling sick and fat. You’re welcome.

So I watched Cheryl do some great work on cake-ball making while we chatted. Her 10-year-old niece and nephew came over with her sister Denise at one point too, so I got to see how those rubber-band-loom bracelets are made – very exciting time for me – and listened to Cheryl explain to them that Canada is spelled C-eh-N-eh-D-eh. Clever.

Oh weird, more nice places to run around Woodinville. This was on my way to the horse path.

Oh weird, more nice places to run around Woodinville. This was on my way to the horse path.

When everyone but Conor was home and around, we all continued my lazy day by watching some solid American television, mostly consisting of parts of the movie Clueless and then the show Dating Naked. When I couldn’t handle it anymore, I decided to go for a run, which is really the only productive thing I did with my day. I probably got some work done in the middle of the day somewhere, but not as much as I should have.

The monster of a hill. You can't really tell, but you should trust me.

The monster of a hill. You can’t really tell, but you should trust me.

I tried to follow Conor’s running directions, really I did, but it didn’t work out that way. I found a horse path, however, and followed it for about seven kilometres (four miles-ish) before I turned back to do it again. The run was so hard. There are hills everywhere, and there was an especially huge monstrosity of a hill that I had to go up, but then later got to come back down. The pictures don’t do it justice, and let me tell you I tried every angle in an attempt to show just how gigantic it was, and also to catch my breath after running up it, but take my word for it. It was massive. I probably burned off at least three cake balls just running up it.

Also, running is hard. It’s hard when you’re not faced with giant mountains to overcome, but that doesn’t make it any easier. With all of the effort I am (kind of) putting in, I am really hoping to have a qualifying time at my next marathon. And by effort I mean the last couple of weeks when I returned to proper training. And by couple of weeks I mean a few days or so.

As has been happening so often with my running on this trip, I got lost. And I really thought I knew where I was. During my jog, Cheryl texted me to ask if I wanted to join everyone for dinner and a movie that evening, so I called her back because it gave me an excuse to walk a little bit instead of running. I said of course I would love to go and then also mentioned that I should be home in the next 10 minutes because I actually knew where I was and I was close.

That is a rink in this stranger's backyard. For hockey and stuff. Seriously.

That is a rink in their backyard. For hockey and stuff. Seriously.

I could not have been more wrong. It probably took me a half hour from there to get back and everyone was waiting on me to shower and head out.

Then of course, because I hadn’t seen Conor all day, I had to stop and talk to him about Canadian kids and the ones he didn’t get to see that day, and the ones that I’ve covered lately. That was annoying apparently, because I got a shout out from my  mother to get a move on. I guess some people were hungry or really wanted to see Let’s Be Cops or something, so I showered and we left.

We travelled from Woodinville to Redmond for dinner at the Tipsy Cow. It was awesome. I had a chicken burger and it was delightful. I wasn’t even hungry when I got there and I ate absolutely every last crumb on my plate. The fries were delicious, the service was great, and of course the company was wonderful.

From there, the six of us went to see Let’s Be Cops. It was not as funny as some had hoped, and I kind of really wanted to see Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, so in the end not the best choice for anyone. But it had its moments and laughter happened. So there is that.

And then the relaxing day ended with some more relaxing, otherwise known as sleep.


The pieces you're reading are written by a baseball enthusiast who can completely confirm the notion that if you love what you do, you never work a day in your life. That's me. I never know what day of the week it is, but I always know who's starting tomorrow. There are no limits, but there are plenty of rain delays and extra innings...just embrace them.

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