I opened my eyes. The ocean stretched out in front of me for a thousand miles. My legs shifted. For days now, I'd been longing for this: an evening run on the beach. I took a deep breath and turned north.
The sun had already set. Twilight was creeping in over the tops of the hotels that lined the beach. With each step, I watched the sky slip through the various shades of blue.
I ran in the place where the ocean begins to recede from the sand, just where the last flash of the whites of the breakers disappear. Over the music playing in my headphones, I could still hear the dull crashing of the ocean. I ran along the edge, every so often changing my course to avoid getting caught up in the rising tide. I watched the ocean pull back, recede into itself and swell again.
There is something hypnotic about its constant nature.
As I ran, I noticed the remaining signs of life... beach-goers squeezing every last minute for all it was worth. A little girl played in the waves, squealing when the remnants of the breaking waves pushed into her. Another little girl, avoided the water all together and moved like a skittish pony when the water crept up towards her. I ran past a group of teenagers tossing frisbees with lights inside. The pirouetting of the flashes of light caught my eye. So much so I nearly ran into a man with a fishing pole.
My mind was slipping into an easier gear as my legs stretched and pushed against the wet sand. I can't explain how or why it happens like that... I just know it does and that's enough. The constant humming of my own brain drives me from one weird place to another. But then again, I guess maybe that's how it is for everyone - we all have to contend with what lies within our own skulls. And we all have to figure out the best ways to manage the noise, the buzz, the voices, those things inside of us that never go away.
A little farther up the beach, I saw a faint orange glow. There was a bonfire going and I could see people sitting around it, laughing and talking. The smell of the burning wood mixed with the salty air filled my nose and I couldn't help but smile.
I had no idea how far I had gone nor did I care. In moments like that, my autopilot serves me well. All I had to do was exist, breathe in and out, and keep moving. I ran along the dying breakers and I couldn't help but think about what that might mean. Why am I always searching for the edges of things? I am always so restless.
When I decided to turn around and head south, I was beginning to feel the run. The burning in my muscles, in my lungs. Sweat. I welcomed them. A smile widened across my face.
The ocean continued to crash down again and again. In the fading twilight, the place where the ocean met the sand and the sky was blending into one dark terminus, each one indistinguishable from the other. The horizon was a haze of navy hues and it went on forever.
I could see the bonfire again. That old familiar scent lingered in the late evening air and it made me happy.
Then, the hotels began to turn on their night flood lights and the beach was awash in a fluorescent glow. The foam of the breaking waves was brilliant white against the blackness of the ocean. I turned my gaze towards the hotels: as people returned to their rooms, there was a golden glow cast out of the windows. Strange patterns formed, like half-filled honeycombs. I shook my head... this is how my mind works.
I continued running, looking ahead for the hotel that marked my entry to the beach. I was getting close to it when a large wave crashed and soaked me from knees down. My shoes filled with sand and cool water. I laughed and slowed my pace. You can only run along the edge for so long...
You'd think I'd know better by now.
I finally came to a stop and dropped down into the sand. I pulled off my water-logged shoes and socks. I faced the Atlantic. My heart racing. Sweating. Breathing hard. I walked down into her breakers and I closed my eyes.