I slipped out of my hotel room early this morning to visit the beach. It felt like the first time all week that I’d been able to do things on my own. I dodged traffic in front of the hotel to make it to a state park across the street. The chilly morning air cut through my shirt and sweater, leaving me hurrying to get there, hands jammed in my pockets.
After a 10 minute walk, I was standing on the beach. The Pacific stood before me, serene behind the gentle surf in front of me. Hundreds of fat seagulls eyed me warily as I strode up to the water’s edge. I stopped and snapped a picture of the dawn. Putting my camera down to take it all in, I decided one shot wouldn’t do, so I took a panoramic shot of the immense ocean in front of me.
As I turned back to the east, I saw the sun begin to peek over the low cliffs. What an awesome sight.
I stooped to wave my hand in an approaching wave. “Hello, ocean,” I said to myself, reuniting with a friend I knew so well for three years.
My mission was accomplished. Walking back to the hotel, I was struck by the simple beauty that is the ocean. So calm and serene on the surface. So teeming with life just below.
As I crossed the street, I was almost struck by something else. A cyclist was cruising down the hill toward me. Seeing I was about to step into the bike lane (does ANYONE in California actually use these things, I thought), I stepped back onto the curb just in time. The cyclist whizzed by me, taking a moment to study me through amber goggles as he pedaled by.
Good morning, Lance.
It’s going to be a great day.