Sunday, July 2, 2017

Sweet Surrender on the Quayside

Yesterday morning I did something I had never done before - I went for my morning run, barefoot, on the beach.  In doing so I borrowed a page from Wilma's marathon training manual.  I have little doubt that it shall not render a finishing time close to the time she put up in any marathon in which she competed. Truth be told, unless my race-day strategy involved (a) a launch out of a cannon; and (b) a favorable, steady tailwind, such a result is never going to be attainable. That was not, of course, the exercise's purpose.

Its purpose is preparation and while it was just one day, it appears to hear incredible promise. Saturday morning I headed down by the waterline and then ran south for almost three miles into Sea Girt. It was not easy.  It is Jersey after all where the beach slopes perceptibly as it greets the ocean, which requires you to run with one hip substantially higher than the other.  

None of that mattered. All that was important was how close I was to the water and how extraordinary it was to be there.  Significantly fewer people are on the beach down by the waterline shortly after sunrise than are on the boardwalk.  It was just me, my thoughts, and the sound of the ocean.  It was extraordinary.  



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