race to the altar!

Of course Gretchen and Al couldn't just relax and spend time getting ready on the morning of their nuptials, they needed to schedule some more (friendly?) competition.  

Guests rose bright and early to take part in a Race-to-the-Altar run down the island.

the bride and fab friend Tara writing up the signs Saturday AM

the 2 mile turnaround for the 4-mile loop

HYDRATE!

 Pardon the blurry pic - running and snapping is tough work!

The race finished at the Pass Club's beach house for a picnic lunch of sandwiches, salads and sweet little treats - all catered by the delicious Morsels Bakery - a fav breakfast and coffee spot for the bride and groom.

In keeping with the games-and-competition theme of the weekend, cornhole was also featured beach-side:

While Samantha and I opted out of the run, we were excited to get all dolled up to meet more friends and family for the picnic.

with cousin Wyler

(who was a total natural!)

with middle namesake Charlotte, the bride,

and my brother's lovely girlfriend Julia

the groom's fam, the bride and the MOB

the bride and grandma Judith

The event wouldn't have been complete without some wedding-logo koozies. :)

Before long, it was time to shower up and get ready!  

xoxo

KK

a city hike

Sunday AM (post our 7+ course dinner) we opted to take Samantha for her very first hike.  Luckily, San Francisco is home to all sorts of scenic trails allowing you to enjoy nature's finest without needing to leave the city.  Stefan selected one of his fav marathon training routes (featuring stellar views of the Golden Gate) to show our special Swiss guests what our fine city has to offer.

We started on an old bunker right near the Golden Gate's city-side.

While the wind off the Pacific was chilly, Samantha was one happy little baby tucked away in her Solly wrap.

Stefan led us along the (very steep!) trail lining the Pacific.

While this trail was one I used to frequent on many-a-run pre-pregnancy, having not exercised whatsoever in 7 weeks thanks to my post-C-section rules, my legs were really feeling it.

But with good conversation and sensational views making the time pass by all too quickly, it wasn't long before the Golden Gate was far in the distance.

Our hike ended at the Cliff House where we refueled on their eggs and to-die-for signature popovers with butter and strawberry preserves.  Well-worth the tough trail!

from here

We had such a wonderful, jam-packed weekend of fun with these two, it was very hard to see them go!

Bis bald Nonno and Edith!

xoxo

KK

things you can't have

So last week when I went shopping for our little get-together on Saturday night, I spotted an old friend - tucked in between heirloom tomatoes and foreign-grown papaya - that I haven't seen in ages.

Can you find him? 

Which one of these does not belong?

Well, it was Mr. Persimmon of course! 
Was he finally back in season on the West Coast?  Just like last year, I could hardly contain my excitement at the thought of his sweet juices dribbling down my chin.

As I began to clean the shelf off of its orange contents, I had the common sense to ask the women stocking mushrooms how much they cost. 
"$2 a piece." 
TWO WHOLE BUCKS A PIECE!?!?  Despite the excruciating difficulty, I limited my purchasing to one promising myself a trip to the Fort Mason Farmer's Market (the Ferry Building's smaller and less touristy cousin) Sunday morning to purchase a proper allotment (no less than 10 pounds). 

But when we headed to Fort Mason, it was clear persimmon season was not in full swing.  Rather than the usual plentiful selection of copious varieties, there was ONE teeny bin containing only the smallest, most petite versions.  We got a bag nonetheless, chomping through half of it before we even got back to the car.

Since then, it's been nothing but persimmons on the brain.  When - oh when! - will these succulent spheres come back in full force?  It's amazing how when you can't have something, it becomes so, so, so much more attractive. 

And it's amazing how it's true for things that might not even seem to be that attractive in the first place.  A few weeks ago I injured my foot.  Randomly, in the middle of work one day, I found myself unable to put pressure on the ball of my right foot.  The doctors attributed it to a sprained tendon, perhaps from overuse (although my running had been lacking of late), but their prescription was simple: no running for two weeks.

After those two weeks, there was NOTHING I wanted to do more than run, run, run.  And while that first trek out was a tough one (it's amazing how much you lose in such a short period of time), there was nothing more glorious in that moment. 

I mean - come on! - what's not to love about a jog through this forest as the sun peaks through to soak up last night's dew? 

Counting the minutes until I can head back to the farmer's market to check on the status of the above mentioned item.


xoxo
KK

San Francisco summer

While the entire nation is sweating their booties off with record-level heat waves, we're bundling up in vests, mittens, and ear muffs around these parts.  While June was unseasonably sunny and warm, we're definitely settling into summer here.

I'm sure you know the famous Mark Twain quote ("the coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco"), but it's not that San Francisco summers are just plain cold (although they are often), it's that they're unpredictable, irrational, and fickle.  One minute it will be gloriously sunny and beautiful and then the next you're scrambling inside to protect yourself from wind burn.  Or perhaps the morning starts off frosted with fog so thick you can't read the street signs, but then by 10am you're slathering on sunscreen to avoid an unsavory bake.

Today happens to be the latter.

My run across the Golden Gate at 6am this morning:

Right before heading into work around 9am:  

She cleans up well.

So for any of you planning a trip out here in the coming weeks: be prepared for anything.  Don't be one of those tourists forced to buy a hideous, overpriced San Francisco sweatshirt when you're desperate for warmth.

xoxo

KK

weekend, unplanned

It's been a long time since Stefan and I have had a weekend free of any to-dos or travel.  It's felt like we've been rushing from one thing to another with very little time to spare these past few months, so while a weekend with very little on the schedule would normally drive this plan-ridden girl mad, I couldn't have been more thrilled.  

And it didn't disappoint: the few short days were packed full of simple, yet delightful surprises.

We kicked things off with an impromptu celebratory dinner at Sociale Thursday night.  I've been running past the place for months, but we had yet to give it a shot.  It was charming, romantic, and delicious.

1, 2

There's nothing like a good half bottle of Dry Creek 

with donuts + a milkshake for dessert.

Then it was a Friday evening journey to the much-anticipated flour + water.  Everyone who has ever been there raves about their unreal homemade pasta creations, and a good foodie friend of mine (who has studied at Le Cordon Bleu and has eaten more of the world's most delicious foods than anyone I know) has a standing Wednesday night reservation at the spot.

Problem is: it is next to impossible to get a weekend reservation, and if you want to walk in, you have to be ready to sacrifice 2+ hours of your time to waiting. 

Which is exactly what we did.  

Luckily, there was a dive bar around the corner and we were with two friends whom we hadn't seen in ages.  The evening was positively lovely.

And the food?  

Think: cappellacci dei briganti with rabbit sausage, asparagus & green garlic, campanelle with tesa, snap peas, cured egg & pecorino, garganelli with pork sugo, broccoli di ciccio & calabrian chili.

It did not disappoint.

Saturday it was brunch at La Boulange and a long run in the gorgeous San Francisco sunshine that was here in full force all weekend long.  

And even my usual running route was in for a treat as I watched them tear down Doyle Drive to replace it with a gorgeous new entrance into the city.

And then Sunday, we had coffee with a potential wedding photographer and decided to hire him!  

(I know, I know - we're totally late in the game, but we were waiting for the right one.  And we've totally found him!  They're a husband-wife team who couldn't be more perfect.)

I won't spill the beans, but I will share some shots.

Now that's what I call a wedding.

The perfect low-key weekend to get me excited for some action-packed ones in the months ahead, starting with my mom, dad, and sis in town for some fun in just four more days!  It's amazing how rejuvenating just a few days of uncoordinated hours can be.

How do you like your weekends?  Unplanned or packed full?

xoxo

KK

easter morning

About two weeks ago, a fabulous friend of mine emailed to say she'd be in town over Easter weekend.  I happened to be signed up for the US Half Marathon, which runs across the Golden Gate, so I asked if she wanted to join.

"I haven't run in weeks," (she's a super intense and ridiculous cycler and skier).  "But that sounds awesome.  I'm in."

So Easter morning, rather than sleeping in and getting dressed up and going to church and brunching it up, Anouk and I were here at 6:45am:

Before we started, she warned me about her sub par running skills.
"Oh, don't worry," I told her. "I'll help you along."

 

Mile 4

About to cross the Golden Gate

But by the time we got to the halfway point, it became very clear who would be helping who along.  And it most certainly wasn't what Anouk had suggested.

I should have known from memories of our days running sports camps in Amman, Jordan together in the summer of 2008, that this girl is hardcore. 

Mile 10

Our final mile together before she left me in her dust

All by my lonesome on Mile 11

I think the run sealed the deal on her wanting to move out here so she can train to go pro in the Ironman.  And let me tell you - if you've seen this girl's intensity, you'd know she's totally got it in her.

The rest of the day was filled with more traditional (and relaxing) Easter activities: a bountiful brunch at La Boulange, some shopping on Fillmore, another brunch - this time for a very special birthday girl, a potluck Easter dinner, and of course a little Easter egg hunt for Stefan.

Hope your Easter was lots of fun!

xoxo

KK

The Torture Trail

Many of you have asked whether I've been lonely these past few weeks while my partner-in-crime is off fighting villains in the Swiss military.

Some of his extra fierce fellow fighters

In a lecture

Camouflage tables = Totally necessary

My man strutting his stuff

While I've of course been missing him a WHOLE lot, I've also been having lots of fun keeping myself extra busy - just how I like it.  Catching up with old friends over coffee and brunch, doing some serious Christmas present shopping (more on that soon), snuggling in bed with my latest can't-stop-reading obsession: The Hunger Games (just trust me), trying my hand at some artsy holiday projects (stay tuned for more details there), and finally partaking in a Coastal Trail Race - something I've been wanting to try since I first moved to the city.

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon the Coyote Ridge Race.  The timing, date, and locale were perfect - 8am (a luxuriously late start in SF where the majority of races are off by 6) on a Saturday morning (so I still had a full weekend to enjoy post finish) out at Muir Beach (right across the Golden Gate).

1

They had a few options for runners: 7 miles, 10 miles, 20 miles, or the good old 50k.  While I had never run more than 6 miles as of a year and a half ago, I've really up-ed the ante in terms of my distance logging 3 halves and 1 full marathon in the past calendar year.  I was tempted by the 20-miler but - given that this terrain was expected to be a bit hilly-er than I was used to - I decided to opt for the 10.  

Leading up to the event, I was nonchalant bordering on hubristic and swollen-headed.  "Are you ready?"  "Are you nervous?" "Are you carb-loading?" people would ask to which I would chuckle: "It's only 10.  Of course not."  I even ran 6 the day before treating the race like a non-event. 

The day of was perfect - a brisk cool but clear morning, the perfect temperature for a fabulous race.  As I made my way to the starting line, I looked around at the incredibly small crowd of runners that was beginning to gather - approximately 300 split between distances.  Awards were given to the top three finishers for each distance?  I thought to myself.  I might seriously have a shot.  I scrolled my iPod to my top rated tunes ready to crank it out when the signal was given. 

The starting line - yes, literally on this bridge

The runners beginning to assemble

As the official yelled "Go!" I took off at a full sprint along the dirt trail and around the corner.  I was towards the front of the pack feeling good about my prospects to leave the slow pokes in my dust.  As I turned another bend, I was confronted with a massive hill dotted with a small dirt trail heading straight up its steepest terrain. 

I started up trying to keep pace but slowly (and very surely) lost momentum.  Runners passed me by the dozen as my steps got slower and slower.  Finally, I reached the summit turning back to snap a picture of my feat.  Surely the worst was over.

The starting block bridge was

right down on little beach

Thankfully, I was rewarded for my efforts with a delightfully steep downhill.

The blissful break, however, was short-lived.  Soon I found myself at the bottom of another hill.

You see those little figures on the horizon up there? 

That's where I'm headed.

When I finally reached the top of this summit, I was beyond completely spent - my legs felt like jello, my feet like rocks, and my lungs like bags of flour.  Despite my pain, I snapped some shots of the dewy hills, the majestic Pacific, and the gorgeously blue sky.

As I continued along the trail for what seemed like hours, I heard a fellow runner give warning of the impending aid station coming up on our left.  Oh, fabulous, I thought.  We've reached the halfway point so I'll get myself some H20, pump up the David Guetta tunes, and crank out another 5.

As I grabbed my cup, I chatted with the bundled-up volunteer: "So what mile are we at here? 5? 6?" 

She looked at my sullenly.  "3."

My heart sank.  Only 3 measly miles?  How in the world was I going to suffer through another 7 miles of this torture trail?

But then - just as I was about to throw in the towel - the sun caught the trees (and my camera's lens) at exactly the right angle inspiring me (well, really reminding me that I was going to report back to all of you) to keep on going.

I chugged along taking time to snap a few more pics of the trail's fabulousness:

Having the hill to myself 

Down into that valley and then up the hill on the other side

Finally, I saw the finish line - right where we had started.  Right down in that little cove.

Boy was I glad to be done -

even if I did average only a 12 minute mile.

It wasn't until I was back in my apartment later that night that I finally checked out the terrain map:

 

A tad bit hilly-er than I had expected

And checked the results: the female winner (a 19 year-old Division I cross country runner) averaged an approximate 10 minute mile.  So I guess 12 minute miles weren't totally atrocious?

I rewarded myself with a Hot Stone Massage at the Intercontinental - courtesy of GroupOn.  (For the best deals in your neck of the woods, check out www.yipit.com.)  

Until tomorrow,
xoxo
KK