Out of my house and over to Curtis Park via 10th Avenue. A cornucopia of two-story houses that aren’t quite pretentious enough to be in East Sacramento, but not so bland that they’d fit in Elk Grove. This is my favorite neighborhood in the city. South around the park, passing an Asian-American couple with a baby in a stroller. They look happy.

Right on 12th Avenue, and over the bridge by City College. The Railyards are still deserted, with that maze of tracks sitting there, its mounds of toxic dirt sticking their collective tongue out at Paul Petrovich.

A little jog left on Freeport and the ever-changing marquee at Land Park Ski. Right again on Sutterville and the slowing growing decomposed gravel path around Land Park. We’ve also got Ford’s (justifiably) Famous Hamburgers with its gigantic meals and delectable fries.

Crossing Land Park Drive, there’s that independent market on the left, which looks to be in the same vein as Lee’s Food King back on Franklin. The traffic starts to thin out as I cross the aching-to-be-part-of-Rails-To-Trails tracks that run north-south next to the Zoo.

The river. It’s glassy and calm as I turn right and head north on the levee. The sun is setting in the clouds behind and to my left, lending an even more soothing light to the proceedings. A couple engaged in earnest conversation. A bundled up biker. The occasional swallow. Highway 5 burbling along to my right, a broken muffler chirping up now and then to add spice to the audio track.

Miller Park is…

lonesome, with nary a boat trailer in sight. Still that agglomeration of construction equipment at the far end as various entities toil endlessly to fill the holes in the levees.

Still north, passing the treatment facility that spews steaming water into the Sacramento and has turned the bike path light brown while covering over the graffiti reading “F#$k Dookie Falls.” Onward to the Tower Bridge, where the city finally gave in and installed a pedestrian crossing of Capitol with a dedicated countdown light.

The splendor of Old Sacramento. A line out the door and folks milling around at Joe’s Crab Shack–it’s 5:30, and there’s employee dancing and fried food to be had. Next door, the white tablecloths settle in for a slow night at the Rio City Cafe. No line. No excitement. Why pay a couple books more for food that’s different from the food you have at the Crab Shack in your home town?

Just before the I Street Bridge, a high school couple is canoodling on a slab of cement next to the river. A tentative kiss, then a little more involved. Then nothing as I continue to the brightly-lit water intake, the motels along Front Street, and the slowly eroding point of Discovery Park.

Under Highway 5 to the spur of the Two Rivers Trail. It’s getting pretty dark now, and kittens scuttle out of my way into the underbrush. Near the end of North 10th Street, a man wielding a bicycle trudges up the levee from the riverbank. Another young man is standing on the gravel, perhaps waiting for a hook-up. Good luck, buddy. Be safe.

Right on Highway 160 and back to civilization, or what passes for it in the River District (”Watch Us Grow!”) Printing companies, restaurant supply, Loaves & Fishes and the increasingly-dilapidated Goldie’s. Do people still buy pornographic DVD’s?

Left on North B, and three homeless men look my way as I sally, “Good evenin’!” I get a thumbs-up in return, along with a robust, “Lookin’ good!” “Feelin’ good, baby!” I’m nine miles in, and that gives me a little extra spring in my step as I leave a ghostly PipeWorks in my trail.

Right on 16th into town. Three more homeless people are standing clustered around a ever-more-transparent 40 ounce bottle of freedom. There is some incoherence, and they don’t even notice me. The guy at the register of the Bottle Shop looks up briefly as I bounce by. Then the lights of Mikuni are upon me and I almost bowl over an oblivious foursome intent on getting across the street to their over-Americanized sushi buried in sauces.

Cardenas Cigars beckons, but I don’t have any cash on me. The vacant storefronts hold promises of both commerce (the coming green-built Italian place where Young’s Fireside used to be) and life (Bloodsource’s new Midtown gig in the paint store with the rainbow columns. If you’ve never been drunk and stood in the middle of those poles, do it tonight.)

Left on Broadway and the clusters of folks waiting for Light Rail and the bus. Why are competing auto parts shops across the street from each other? I can understand competing coffee, but what does Carquest have that Kragen doesn’t?

Right on 26th and back into the neighborhood as a five-member family trundles home. A few stragglers have yet to remove their Christmas lights, which keeps things festive. A quick stop for some smooches from a fellow Curtis Parkian, and the last half mile feels great.

I saw a lot of Sacramento on foot this evening. And every single bit made me happy to live here.