Crystal Kang, WA

Junior Writer

A Chicago native, Crystal got in touch with her heritage by studying abroad in Seoul, Korea, before college. There, she developed an unabashed curiosity for meeting people and asking questions about her own culture. A Columbia Journalism School graduate, Crystal worked in newsrooms and startups throughout New York City, interviewing entrepreneurs and C-level execs. At one point, she ran her own podcast. Currently, she writes for a startup focused on millennials facing a quarter-life crisis. When she’s not telling stories, she’s hiking around the Pacific Northwest.

As a Story Terrace writer, Crystal interviews customers and turns their life stories into books. Get to know her better by reading her autobiographical anecdote below.

A Beautiful Day for a Run

“It looks pretty bad,” I tell my friend, Esther, glancing up from my weather app. I had packed my bags after learning a Category 2 hurricane was about to hit.

We were neighbors, but tonight, we were roommates. Stocking her fridge with our ration for the week, Esther asks, “Ever wonder what it’s like to be out in the storm?”

No time for a response. The wind begins to howl. I dash to the window. The city blocks are devoid of civilization. Metal trash bins are rolling around, spewing debris.

“Do you think it’ll die down by tomorrow?” Esther asks. “I want to go for a run in the morning.” I whirl around. “You can’t go out there!” I protest.

I catch the gleam in her eyes. She was serious. “You’re crazy! You can’t go alone. I’ll–I’ll come with,” I stammer with a tinge of fear and curiosity.

“If it really looks bad, I promise we won’t go,” Esther reassures me.

We pop in a movie, grab some popcorn and fall asleep watching 500 Days of Summer.

Awaking to the sudden shaking of my bed, I cling on for my dear life. I hear a familiar voice. “Crystal, wake up! It’s a beautiful day for a run!”

I glance at the wall clock – 6:30 a.m. “This is not happening,” I groan. “Yes, it is!” Esther insists as she prances around the room. “I don’t have anything to wear!” I wail. She promptly pulls out a pair of black running pants and a neon green shirt.

I sigh. “I guess we’re doing this.” I roll out of bed and brush the knots out of my hair.

“So, what do we do if we get caught in the storm?” I cautiously ask. “We’ll just do a quick lap around the park,” Esther answers.

Off we go into the land of no return. My heart is pounding like never before. Hurdling over branches and sloshing through mud, I feel like an Olympic runner.
Just as we scramble through caution tape, we hear sirens, then a booming voice. “Turn around. I repeat. Turn around.” Law enforcement. I let out a breath.

As we hightail back home, Esther exclaims, “Thank you for coming with me!” I manage to breathe, “I don’t think this is a day I’ll ever forget.”

We stop at a sign on our way out to snap a photo for memory’s sake.

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