The man pushed his unwilling body through the soft sand on the beach. “Is it always this hard?” he muttered to himself, as each step gave way to painful step.
The haze hung heavy over the beach this morning, like a blanket keeping the visibility low, weighing down the air in his lungs. On his right side the little rollers were marching in, battling the shore in their quest for territory. Further down the beach a couple of surfers were chatting as they enjoyed this dawn to themselves.
His calves, now burning up, were tightening up with each extra pace. His speed dropped off to not much more than walking speed, and the water was now splashing around his ankles as he searched for some harder sand. Five minutes and five hundred steps later he reached his marker. Today, he ran without his usual running singlet, and so this morning it doubled as his towel and finish line. The extra pace this morning had its rewards, with time enough for a quick swim; he plunged into the water, and washed the sand and the aches away.
Getting out, he dried himself carelessly with his singlet, and headed for home, a tired grin planted on his face as he laughed to himself, “Is it always this good?” The thought came and went, but he wore the smile to work that morning.
Meanwhile, his footprints left on the beach were slowly sinking away under the incoming tide.
No comments:
Post a Comment