Last night I went running. Cold, dark night. As I was driving to our Tuesday night run rendezvous spot, I was thinking, “You could just go home and sit by the fire,” but the fact that other guys would be showing up motivated me.
I got into my Maxit tights and shirt, and with new super headlight, headed south along the coast. Cold at first but in 15 minutes, I started to feel good. By the time I got up to the lookout spot, I had my shirt off.
I could see the lights of about 20 crab boats out in the bay. These guys are tough, working around the clock, then heading into San Francisco when they’re loaded. One real windy night I was sleeping on the beach and I saw a boat out working crab pots. It must have been pitching all over the place, and I could picture these guys swinging heavy crab pots onto the deck, dumping crabs into boxes, rebaiting traps, dropping pots back into the water. Them’s some men, fer shure.
Ran about an hour, kind of reveling in the fact that I don’t have to “train,” I can run for delight, not speed. Boy is it different. By the time I got halfway through the run, my footsteps were almost silent. I’ve been thinking about the Miwok Indians that lived here not so long ago, and how they would have run gently on the trails…