Monday, November 2, 2009

Better Than a Treadmill.....

I used to run.  I loved to run.  Granted, it took awhile of forcing it before I learned to love it, but I did.  In Atlanta I ran lots of 5K races -- often every weekend,  between hikes and backpacks -- and the occasional 10K.  I'd run the wooded trails in a park near home before or after work, or along the road or sometimes, if forced, on a track.  Didn't matter.  I was training for a half marathon in 1993 when an auto accident ended my running career via a cervical injury.  Think 'paralyzed' if it had been any worse.  My orthopod was a dedicated runner, but he told me not to run. Not to take the chance of shifting something. Period.  Eventually, he thawed a bit, shook his head, and told me to try it, but stop if there was any pain.  I'd jog lightly around the blocks near my home in Grant Park, but yes, there would always be a bit of pain.  I couldn't do much at any rate so the fun went away, but I've missed it more than I can say.


Harris Beach back in May

Lately, I've been using the treadmill here in our building, and have done a little light jogging on that to test the waters, so to speak.  No problems.  Impact is the issue -- I can't do anything that will jar my spine.  Today, I was going to walk Harris Beach for a little exercise, but decided to try running barefoot in the wet sand and see what happened -- et voila!  I ran right at the water's edge, often getting my feet washed by the surf, and there was no impact because my heels sank slowly into that silken-soft wet sand, followed by the rest of the foot.  Deep into it -- a couple of inches, mostly -- but while it was soft, it was also firm enough to be supportive.  Perfect.  I ran south as far as the high tide would allow, turned around and ran back, and it felt wonderful!  I can tell this is my new obsession. Assuming there are no after-effects by morning.

Of course, it helps that this is one of those incredible sunny, warm, clear, sparkly days  here in Brookings.  The tide was also higher on the beach than I have ever seen it, effectively cutting off both ends of the areas I'm used to walking, but still leaving enough for a good run.  Spectacular to watch.  More than once, when I wasn't paying attention, the water swirled much higher up my legs which felt great, but left me with wet capris. A small price to pay.  The little rivulet that normally requires wading through is now flat sand, leveled by the high tides.  All the driftwood on this beach -- and others -- is washed high up at the base of the bluffs, far from the water.  I've often marveled at that, wondering how it got so far up.  I have a feeling I'll soon see the answer to that one, as the winter high tides come in with storms.  I'm guessing that one day I'll walk down the path to this beach and be faced with the ocean, right there in front of me.  No beach showing.  I look forward to that. Realistically, of course, that would be a really stormy day and I'd be home safe and warm, but still...

Another day when I craved my camera -- so totally beautiful out there.  But -- it's in my memory, and that is, perhaps, the best place for it.

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