Once in awhile, I run barefoot at the beach. After this week's mix of aches and pains as things continue to shift and twist and attempt to regroup, I decided flexing my foot completely through the sand, and working muscles that are usually bound up might not be a bad idea.
The ocean was a froth of turquoise intensity, as the rip currents, swelled by the jet stream and stiff breezes, propelled the water up and into the beach. Running through the surf is like running in a bed of molasses, or quicksand that never has the same density for any measure of steps. The effort it takes to create a steady rhythm is enormous. And just as running hills increases the comparable distances, I'm sure the same is true for running in sand. I was tired at first, but picked up my endurance after the first run south. Took a break, and turned back before I hit the traffic of too many beach-goers closer to Hollywood. Altogether, I was out about 1.5 hours, which is a solid workout.
Later, my path will cross with a master healer, a kindred soul, a potential 'partner in crime'....I know he's dying to get his chance to 'fix' what's wrong with my 'neuromuscular' condition. Has the universe finally found my way back to all things juicy, whole, alive?? Is there an ultra in me after all? With the right kind of 'support', I know ANYTHING is possible.
Hope, in all it's lovely flamboyant imagining, is alive and well....we will see what the tide brings in.
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