Life is just beachy
04/23/2011
I grew up on the beaches of Lake Erie. Beach volleyball, beach bonfires, beach bike rides and (gasp!) even beach fishing were among my activities. I bought economy size baby oil, not because I had a baby, but because it produced a killer tan. Yet, I’ve never considered myself a beach person. Maybe because in my mind “beach people” were only in the cast of Baywatch. I’ve since learned that’s not true, and that I could definitely enjoy life as a beach person…
Day 1:
It’s spring break. I’m not a wild college girl or a Clark County School District student. So what am I doing in Oceanside, California on a Wednesday night at 11 p.m., chilled out on a balcony, beach towel wrapped around my legs, ocean 40 yards away, overlooking the lush grounds of North Coast Village with a salty sea breeze blowing through my turned-curly-upon-arrival hair? Did I mention I’m sipping Corona? My biggest concern…should I run north or south on the beach at sunrise? Life is exceptionally exceptional at the moment.
I had no intention of blogging about my little three-night California adventure with my friend and her 8-year-old daughter. Wasn’t even going to throw my laptop in my duffel. Flies in the face of minimalist packing. Turns out, my traveling companions hit the hay early and I couldn’t resist packing my computer. What’s a lonely girl with a Mac and an imagination to do but blog about it?
So here I sit, reflecting on the past 12 hours and anticipating my date with Shamu tomorrow. Here’s what’s struck me since arriving in my next-door-neighbor state…
- When a 5-hour car ride flies by and your throat hurts, you know you have yourself a great friend.
- Why do I want to wash off my makeup the minute I get to California?
- It’s okay to be as excited as a 5-year-old on Christmas Eve when you get to your oceanfront condo. You can even jump up and down a little.
- Sometimes you just have to eat three huge slices of pizza (and wash them down with bread sticks).
- Walking in the waves under the moon…in a category of amazingness unto itself.
Day 2:
Something about California just makes you relax your shoulders and want to get blond highlights. It also makes you want to write exclusively in bullet points…
- Getting up before sunrise, running six miles in the surf and throwing rocks in the waves…nirvana.
- Shopping at Pappy’s market and checking out with Pauly is as fun as it sounds.
- Did I miss my calling as a killer whale trainer? Shumu rocks.
- Why is cooking dinner in a beach condo kitchen so much more fun than cooking in my own?
- When your 8-year-old travel mate asks you to perform (that is, type as fast as you can with no errors) again and again…and she giggles hysterically…you know you’re officially buddies.
Day 3:
I could get used to this. Life is just easier and breezier by the ocean. Paragraphs are so overrated…dude.
- Makeup, shmakeup.
- Surfers really are cool. So are bait shop owners.
- When you run past cadets and they scream “Good morning, ma’am…” you know it’s going to be a good day. (I know they’re trained like dogs to say that to every “ma’am.” Indulge me, would you!)
- It’s hard not to collect rocks.
- The best days require no car.
- Remember when Monica’s hair went wild in Barbados? That really happens.
- Best bud Donna drove up from San Diego for coffee. Friend Marji drove over from Vista to chat on the balcony. Getting visitors on vacation is excellent.
- While my travel mate made a grocery run, I nervously watched her daughter at the ocean. She began burying herself in sand. I highly encouraged it and readily assisted to keep her in one place. It only seems wrong now.
- I wouldn’t mind starring in a Corona commercial.
- It’s after 11 and I’m on the balcony…should I sleep here? If I crack the screen door I’ll still be able to hear the ocean when I lay down on the couch. Good night…
- Humidity, I will miss you…you made 24 miles of beach running feel effortless.
- I haven’t seen any in Oceanside, but I’m pretty sure the cows in California really are happy.
- When you start thinking about the emotional state of cows, you know it’s’ time to pack your beach bag and head home…
Something about this vacation changed me a little bit.
For the better.
I’ll be back.
Runners, take your marks. Thoreau, go home.
03/06/2011
Henry David Thoreau said, “Methinks that the moment my legs began to move, my thoughts began to flow.” He wasn’t among the 600+ runners at yesterday’s Red Rock Canyon ½ marathon, but I knew he’d haunt me. I was sure my legs would get me to the finish…if my mind didn’t stop me. People ask, “What do you think about when you run?” Well…mental minimalism is a goal I’ve yet to achieve.
Starting Line at Visitors Center (3740 feet elevation):
I love this so much. The view is inspiring. I made cool new friends. My water bottle belt is awesome.
Mile 1:
I hate this so much. The view is overrated. These annoying runners are in my way. I might strangle someone with my belt.
Mile 2:
My throat hurts. I’m sucking particle-filled wind. I need a dust mask. I’m panting like a dog. I’d be a pug. Short and scrappy. What if I suck in a bug? Mmmm, I’m glad my lip balm is raspberry flavor. I hate the kind of lip balm that requires you to stick your finger in the jar. Nasty. Germ pot. I need to buy shampoo. Did I get a Fresh & Easy coupon?
Mile 3:
My hands are on fire. Why did I wear these gloves? My friend lent them to me at a race…she won’t care if I throw them out. I’ll buy her a new pair. Target has cool gloves. Like their pillows too. I want to rip these gloves off and launch them into the desert. I’m taking them off. I’m carrying them. This is awkward and I need to focus on running, not gloves. I’m sticking them in my sports bra. No. Weird. Bumpy. I’m going to have a panic attack over these gloves, but I’m not a litter bug. I got a litter patch as a girl scout. I hated being a girl scout. I’m not chucking them off to the side. I agreed to follow the rules of this national conservation area. Some poor volunteer will have to pick them up.
Mile 3.5:
That cactus looks cold. It needs my gloves. (Toss.) Forgive me Father…for I have sinned…it has been 25 years since my last confession. Catholic school really messed me up.
Mile 4:
I’m going to barf. I’d think “toss my cookies,” but I had a banana for breakfast, not cookies. I love bananas. I love chocolate chip cookies. Oh no. There’s a woman tossing her cookies in the bushes. Don’t look don’t look don’t look don’t look. How many more miles? This course is excruciatingly difficult. I need to proof the annual report Monday. Ron’s taking me to dinner tonight! Or maybe he’ll make me homemade pizza!
Mile 5 (4,771 feet elevation)
Ya boy! The summit overlook. I climbed 1,031 feet. There’s an ambulance up there. Not inspiring. I’ve never been in an ambulance. I get carsick. Would I get carsick in an ambulance? Would it matter since I’d already be in the category of “sick?” Am I nuts?
Mile 6:
That dude’s shirt says “St. Patty’s Day Run 1997.” It must smell. He needs a new shirt. I remember getting a yearly Shamrock Shake with dad. I’ll get one this week. Green dye seems unhealthy. Whatever, if I die of this race or green dye – dead is dead.
Mile 7:
CRUISING NOW! I just ran a 7-minute mile down that hill. I am a cartoon character. If I trip, I’ll roll and crush my iPod. I love my playlist. I love this race. Where did I park my car back at Red Rock Casino?
Mile 8:
Where’s the 9-mile marker? My calves are She-Hulk like. Strange sensation. Her purple skirt looked good with her green skin.
Mile 9:
Where’s the 10-mile marker? If a half-marathon were 10 miles, it would be perfect. There’s a med-evac chopper. Someone bit the dust. Queen. “Another one bites the dust, and another one gone and another one gone…”
Mile 10:
My ankle hurts. I can’t wait to visit our niece in St. Louis. Suck it up and haul it Maras. Those rocks are really red. Pound the hills. Have fun. Just do it…every damn day. Remember what everyone (including Nike) said to encourage you. Go. Girl. Go.
Mile 11:
More hills? Am I on Candid Camera?
Mile 12:
Full-court press. Focus. Pump. Sprint. I can collapse near the bagel table on the other side of that finish line. I cannot BELIEVE I’m going to finish listening to “Runnin’ With the Devil.” Cool. I wanted to end on “Celebration,” but that’s several songs down the list. Sweet. I’m glad I’m not toting a walkman. How would I flip the tape?
Mile 13.1 – Finish:
“Now crossing the line, Tara Maras from Las Vegas, Nevada.” Wow, classy touch Calico Racing. Did someone on a walkie talkie tell the color commentary lady I was on my way? Done! I’m going to fall. Let’s par-tee!
Okay, so maybe I didn’t achieve mental clarity on my run. But I did write this blog post in my head.
Have you ever achieved mental clarity? Tell me how already!
