...leaving more than footprints on Fernandina Beach!
A trip to Fernandina Beach, Florida this weekend was exactly what I needed. Seeing my two best friends coupled with an hour-long run that included only me and the beach, was nourishment for the soul.
Running on the beach is not an easy feeling to put into words. Every sense is tapped. I know for sure my eyes were graced with every shade of yellow, red, orange, green, and blue as the sun was still making its grand appearance over the water, at the point where my eyes can't take me any further.
I had on my running shoes, but sand will settle anywhere regardless if its invited or not...the tiniest grains with their notorious grit somehow still made their way in between my toes.
Even though I was not alone on the beach, all I could hear was the subtle, soothing sound of waves that gradually and courteously folded themselves onto the shore.
And for comparison's sake...I had to dip my finger in the Atlantic for my tongue. Because my sweat is really salty, and I know that this particular electrolyte plays a crucial role in keeping the body well hydrated, I regularly lick the salt off the tops of my hands and scraped from my forehead and cheeks while I'm running. Call me defensive, but this is not gross. There are worse things, and I think it's actually kind of smart!
My taste test actually revealed that the ocean water and my sweat are indistinguishable.
What amazes me the most is that every trip to the beach feels like the first. Few things have quite the novelty.
Craig has always loved the beach and I even remember when he first put his own set of footprints in the sand.
Though Craig doesn't have the vocabulary to describe how the waves sound when they rush in, or how rough the grainy sand feels when he puts his hands in it, I am certain the wonder is no less. And anyway, words will never suffice.
Craig learning how to walk on the beach
Jekyll Island, Georgia
A trip to Fernandina Beach, Florida this weekend was exactly what I needed. Seeing my two best friends coupled with an hour-long run that included only me and the beach, was nourishment for the soul.
Running on the beach is not an easy feeling to put into words. Every sense is tapped. I know for sure my eyes were graced with every shade of yellow, red, orange, green, and blue as the sun was still making its grand appearance over the water, at the point where my eyes can't take me any further.
I had on my running shoes, but sand will settle anywhere regardless if its invited or not...the tiniest grains with their notorious grit somehow still made their way in between my toes.
Even though I was not alone on the beach, all I could hear was the subtle, soothing sound of waves that gradually and courteously folded themselves onto the shore.
And for comparison's sake...I had to dip my finger in the Atlantic for my tongue. Because my sweat is really salty, and I know that this particular electrolyte plays a crucial role in keeping the body well hydrated, I regularly lick the salt off the tops of my hands and scraped from my forehead and cheeks while I'm running. Call me defensive, but this is not gross. There are worse things, and I think it's actually kind of smart!
My taste test actually revealed that the ocean water and my sweat are indistinguishable.
What amazes me the most is that every trip to the beach feels like the first. Few things have quite the novelty.
Craig has always loved the beach and I even remember when he first put his own set of footprints in the sand.
Though Craig doesn't have the vocabulary to describe how the waves sound when they rush in, or how rough the grainy sand feels when he puts his hands in it, I am certain the wonder is no less. And anyway, words will never suffice.
Craig learning how to walk on the beachJekyll Island, Georgia
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