There is a secret society of fairy stalkers in Tacoma. They dress in goofy clothes and haunt Point Defiance Park and Five Mile Drive. They say they're in it for the health, but I know their secret.
Today, on a bike ride, and yesterday, on a trail run, I noticed the people. I guess I've noticed them other times when I've run the trails or biked Five Mile Drive, but since I've been out of the loop for a while, I've become more sensitive. The stalkers are generally fit people, generally dress in clothes by REI, and generally appear friendly enough, though individually driven. They nip quickly across the streets, and dart back into the trails, or they whoosh by on their self-powered machines.
What drives them, as I discovered, is the magic. This time of year, that magic is a physical presence you can taste and smell; it's visible, tangible, and takes my breath away.
Today, what mostly took away my breath were those bitch-hills I had forgotten were there, in my car. They took on new meaning when I was powering my own wheels. But the payoff was big; between the whoosh of the downhill and the crunch of the leaves, and the colors of the evergreen and deciduous trees contrasting with the colors of the Puget Sound and sky, and then all mixed in with all the scents of sweet, Northwestern Goodness, the sensory overload was as addictive as that first sip of a particularly tasty Shiraz, or a hoppy-delightful IPA.
The fairies took over toward the end of my run yesterday, and bike ride today, dancing in the light that dappled and played on spider webs and the undergrowth I'd always taken for granted. In point of fact, I was probably just oxygen-deprived and waxing poetic because of a tragic lack of fitness and endorphins overload, but that addiction set in.
I can't wait to get out there again, and join the fairy stalkers. â€" Jessica Corey-Butler
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