Thursday, July 28, 2011

Under a Blood Red Sky

It's 6:07 am. I turn my head and shake the sleep from my eyes. When it clears I see salt marshes to the left and a neat row of brightly colored beach cottages, and docks with boats gently rocking in the water to the right. This is Sunset Beach. The sky is on fire with color and I cannot remember a more invigorating wake up or the last time I was so grateful for my life. I walk out onto the porch just next to my bed and deeply breathe in the humid, salty sea air.

Wait, what am I doing? This is the stuff that great runs are made of. Hurriedly, I pull on running clothes and shoes and sprint to the beach as fast as my legs will take me. The three-day rain streak is broken. The sky is blue, the clouds expansive, and the bright sunshine, oh the welcome sunshine, so coy these last few days, has returned and casts a rosy glow over the breakers and soft dunes. The tide is receding and all I see in front of me is flat sand. I hit my stride and before I know it, I've run out of island and hit the jetty. I turn around and face the steadily rising sun and watch it reflect brilliantly off the long stretch of beach before me. I set off towards the other end. My pace quickens as the gladness to be here, in this moment, courses through my veins.

The joys of beach life wash over me like the waves on the shore: little ones getting a head start to their sand castles, families taking early morning walks together, tai chi and quiet contemplative moments for others. I feel so far removed from everything else going on in my life but I also know this is the place I see it all most clearly too.

I'm wasting time writing about this day when I should be out enjoying it. To that end: The end.

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