He tip-toes steadily across the black road. It's hot. Very hot. But he barely notices. The seasoned callouses on his feet are more than equal to the task. “Besides”, he reasons, “it was cloudy all morning. How much heat could the road have possibly absorbed?” Reaching the other side, he quickens his step further as he makes his way under the thick canopy of banksia trees. The air is sticky, but the ocean breeze is cool and steady. A nor'easter. Not unusual for a Sydney summer. Bout 25km/hr. He knows.
The homecoming. Stepping onto the soft sand. An audible sigh, perhaps, though it escapes his notice. A tale of two beaches today. The north? Closed. Dangerous currents and massive surf. But the south...? The south never lets him down! Welcoming red and yellow flags spread wide apart like a lit-up runway, beckoning the weary traveller to come and rest in the cool waters just beyond. Involuntarily, he smiles. The biggest, widest grin. He's happy. He's home.
A cloudy morning. A sunny afternoon. The makings of a very quiet day down on the beach. He'd come to this realisation before he'd even left home, and it had added a little more anticipation to the journey. There's nothing nicer than open space. And he isn't disappointed. The pink bag makes a gentle thud as he drops it onto the sand. He looks up and looks around at a scene he's seen a million times. A moment later he's off! Running with steely determination...
The tide is kind today, and there's an eminently suitable strip of hard sand by the water's edge. Perfect for a lazy run. Soft sand is much harder work! He's in his element, his toes splaying across the sand, maximising the surface area of his feet. Lifting his knees high, he propels his body upwards with each step. Those calf muscles didn't spring up overnight!
It's been almost two months now since his second lung operation and, although he's been plagued for weeks with concerning, unexplained symptoms, his breathing today is flawless. It's a pleasant surprise when breathing requires no thought. Relaxing instead into a meditative rhythm, he relishes the cool water rippling at his feet. Laps of the beach are the standard go-to, and the rocks at each end provide his feet with some welcome tactile relief from the monotonous sand before he turns to continue. He knows he'll go far today.
Approaching the flags, he's on his guard. This is his favourite part, weaving in and out among the excited children playing in the shallows. There are sand castles to build and waves to explore! Childhood memories intertwined with adult realities. The bygone adventures threaten to enthrall. But he must stay focused. Children lack the spatial awareness, and are liable to move in unpredictable ways. No fatalities today thanks.
There's something about salt. Its so earthy. But it's also profoundly oceany. As the sweat pours down his face and catches his lips, he understands that it is also an integral part of his very being. He is of the earth, the ocean... Look! A distraction! A couple of cute lifesavers in their budgie-smugglers are reclining on the edge of their rubber ducky. They don't escape his notice. They rarely escape his notice. He soaks in the whole picture, but his stride never slows.
9km later, he's stoked. A run that long hasn't been possible for many months. He formulates a silent prayer of thanks to his Creator, his Healer. His Sydney Swans towel is his favourite- a gift from some dear friends who know him too well. Spreading it out on the hot sand, he takes a heavy load off.
Iced tea...
(to be continued)
The homecoming. Stepping onto the soft sand. An audible sigh, perhaps, though it escapes his notice. A tale of two beaches today. The north? Closed. Dangerous currents and massive surf. But the south...? The south never lets him down! Welcoming red and yellow flags spread wide apart like a lit-up runway, beckoning the weary traveller to come and rest in the cool waters just beyond. Involuntarily, he smiles. The biggest, widest grin. He's happy. He's home.
A cloudy morning. A sunny afternoon. The makings of a very quiet day down on the beach. He'd come to this realisation before he'd even left home, and it had added a little more anticipation to the journey. There's nothing nicer than open space. And he isn't disappointed. The pink bag makes a gentle thud as he drops it onto the sand. He looks up and looks around at a scene he's seen a million times. A moment later he's off! Running with steely determination...
The tide is kind today, and there's an eminently suitable strip of hard sand by the water's edge. Perfect for a lazy run. Soft sand is much harder work! He's in his element, his toes splaying across the sand, maximising the surface area of his feet. Lifting his knees high, he propels his body upwards with each step. Those calf muscles didn't spring up overnight!
It's been almost two months now since his second lung operation and, although he's been plagued for weeks with concerning, unexplained symptoms, his breathing today is flawless. It's a pleasant surprise when breathing requires no thought. Relaxing instead into a meditative rhythm, he relishes the cool water rippling at his feet. Laps of the beach are the standard go-to, and the rocks at each end provide his feet with some welcome tactile relief from the monotonous sand before he turns to continue. He knows he'll go far today.
Approaching the flags, he's on his guard. This is his favourite part, weaving in and out among the excited children playing in the shallows. There are sand castles to build and waves to explore! Childhood memories intertwined with adult realities. The bygone adventures threaten to enthrall. But he must stay focused. Children lack the spatial awareness, and are liable to move in unpredictable ways. No fatalities today thanks.
There's something about salt. Its so earthy. But it's also profoundly oceany. As the sweat pours down his face and catches his lips, he understands that it is also an integral part of his very being. He is of the earth, the ocean... Look! A distraction! A couple of cute lifesavers in their budgie-smugglers are reclining on the edge of their rubber ducky. They don't escape his notice. They rarely escape his notice. He soaks in the whole picture, but his stride never slows.
9km later, he's stoked. A run that long hasn't been possible for many months. He formulates a silent prayer of thanks to his Creator, his Healer. His Sydney Swans towel is his favourite- a gift from some dear friends who know him too well. Spreading it out on the hot sand, he takes a heavy load off.
Iced tea...
(to be continued)