Cruising along the freeway this morning, listening to Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, and The Rolling Stones, there’s an easiness to the day. It’s Friday morning around 10am. There’s no traffic, and the only plan I have is to spend time lying on a beach. It’s the last day of a much needed week off and I haven’t really done anything at all. I rarely do nothing at all.
Earlier in the morning, when I finally open my eyes to the day and look at the clock, it’s 7:11. I’ve been able to sleep until seven each morning and it’s been so nice. On this morning, knowing this my last day off, I stare at the ceiling for several minutes. I think how I want to go for a run. I think how I want to go to the beach. I think how I’d like to stay in bed. As I’m entertaining the idea, the cat lying next to me stretches his arms, hitting me in the face with a claw. That was short lived.
The morning is cool and running is easy. I have grown to love running outside more than running on a treadmill. There’s something basic about propelling myself forward through the craziness of life all around. I take in the breakfast smells and morning sights as I pound out a few miles. I connect with strangers on the sidewalk as we pass, nodding good morning or hello. I truly feel alive, inspired, hopeful, believe that anything is possible.
Back on the freeway, top down in my convertible, I’m belting out lyrics to Hotel California. Without a hat, my short hair flies wildly in the wind. It’s a short drive, but long enough to get me to another place. I love my beach time. I’ve perfected my ritual. First, the drive with music blaring to set the tone, to get me thinking. When I get to the beach and find a spot, I lie out for twenty to thirty minutes on each side. Then I walk down to the water, look for shells and feel the waves beat against me as I walk. Refreshed, I sit and read or write or stare into the distance as the waves crash into the sand. Some days, like today, the weather is perfectly warm, the sun bright, breeze cool, and the sand soft and luxurious. I want to slip from my chair and feel the warm sand on my legs and arms and face. I want to sink into its depths and dissolve into nothingness.
Take the 52 west 