I hadn't planned on running today. But this gal (that's me) who was crying the blues (literally), decided to take a break, and squeeze in a quick run anyway -- a flat run, right here at the edge of the Pacific. I wore a watch to keep track of time and carried only my phone (which turns out to take pretty dang decent pictures -- and I don't have one of those fancy new-fangled phones either).
I ran along the street and crossed over the island, running down the ramp to a shaded sidewalk that lines the parking lot. And when I came out at the other end, here is what greeted me and lifted that black cloud from my eyes:
I ran along the street and crossed over the island, running down the ramp to a shaded sidewalk that lines the parking lot. And when I came out at the other end, here is what greeted me and lifted that black cloud from my eyes:
Sure it's kind of a boring picture of a lonely road overlooking the harbor mouth. But I'll tell ya! It dazzled me this morning, kinda shoved me into my groove. As I continued along on this flat run, I passed another interesting camera-phone-worthy scene. I'm talking about meticulously stacked rocks. There's this guy out here who spends hours stacking these things. People stand about watching him in awe. Here's something I've never told anyone (except my husband) about the whole thing. I get this devilish thought every time I pass the scene to run through the rocks, kicking over the "artwork." But I would never do that; it would probably make someone cry. It's just this uncontrollable urge thing -- hopefully, you know the feeling, else you think I'm a complete jerk.
After running off the island, I turned around at the cliffs, making this a quick run with 3.61 miles gladly logged this morning.
My Turnaround:
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