Monday, July 18, 2016

Riding Out the Twilight Hour

I remember being richer than a king 
The minutes of the day were golden...
"The Sea Refuses No River" 
-  Pete Townshend

Yesterday morning as I took my first training run for the 2016 New York City Marathon, I saw a lot of sights I always enjoy seeing when I run, such as the sun coming up over Lake Como and how the ocean looks as the sun begins to climb over the beaches in Spring Lake and Belmar. 

Sadly, I also saw a sight that I have seen on too many occasions, which sight I never like to see.  As I ran north along the boardwalk in Spring Lake, a Coast Guard helicopter flew over my head (also heading north) towards Avon.  That in and of itself is not necessarily unusual, inasmuch as every so often I see them doing exercises or training runs.  However, yesterday morning, the helicopter reversed course and headed south towards Spring Lake - at a significantly lower altitude.  The helicopter then doubled back, again, and started heading back towards Avon.  On this swing north, however, it dropped down to an altitude of less than fifty feet off the water and - rather than heading straight north - began moving in a pattern that from the boardwalk looked to my untrained eye an awful lot like a grid search.

I wrapped up my run on the boardwalk at 17th Avenue in Belmar.  When I completed it, I looked out towards the water and saw that a Coast Guard ship had joined the helicopter.  The only time I have ever seen that happen is when the Coast Guard is not conducting a training exercise but, rather, when it is running a recovery operation.  

It is a disturbance to the universe's natural order whenever a parent is forced to bury a child.  I did not know this young man.  I do not know his parents.  It matters not.  My heart breaks for them.  


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