I am running, it is after work and I am tired but need to run to clear my head of the day’s malodorous scraps -- angry colleagues and arguments with managers and one too many stories of war atrocities. I struggled today to focus attention on the feeling of the smells as they passed across my nostrils, just observe the sensation and not react, but the odors overwhelmed my concentration and reach my mind and so my day is shot, thinking of how nice it will be to run.
I run toward the ocean and the smell of the trees recedes and that giant wilderness takes over my senses, gentle waves burning my eyes and taking back the sand and sharing a mist with the succulents that creep from the edge of the forest. I run and face across my shoulder, toward the sun and the sea, and the waves that crash and climb on the headlands across the water are not like the waves here beside me: they travel unimpeded across the great ocean and are not ready to stop at Marin. These waves lap the shore metrically, but those waves well up suddenly and explode and disappear and reappear.
Baker Beach
Originally uploaded by iandhd
I am running along the beach and there are three fishermen, I run under their lines and wonder why they fish on a beach. What do they catch? I want to stay here on the beach and watch them, come back tomorrow when I’m supposed to be on a conference call and drink beer and lay in the sun til my chest is burnt. I run and the foam from the waves washes toward me and I dance along the rim with the sandpipers, my shoes don’t get wet.
I run up and away from the water and my legs burn and my mouth fills with saliva and I spit, and my face is bright red. I wonder how far I will run, which route I will take to return.
I am running on a path beside the road and the bridge climbs out from behind the trees. My legs are past their initial fatigue and my breath has found its rhythm and my mind wanders, place receding in the dull comfort of exertion.
