One of the things I like about blogging is that it activates creative sections of my mind (I use the word "creative" loosely). Instead of just going through the day checking things off, I find myself thinking about my day in more creative terms and asking myself "Is this blog-worthy?"
In fact, I have actually been thinking about partially finished writing projects that have sat dormant for years. Maybe it's time to get back to work on one of those . . . . we'll see.
Along with the creativity, blogging also causes me to be more analytical. I think more about the things I am doing. Sometimes that is good - other times it's a little overkill.
I have always wanted to run the boardwalk at Mission Beach and so today I did. It is about 2 1/2 miles of surf and sand on one side and beach houses on the other. Meh. Not so great.
For one thing, it is 2 1/2 miles of straight. I am used to running trails or the twisty paths of Balboa Park. This was mercilessly straight. It is also only 2 1/2 miles long which means I have to run the whole thing twice (there and back) and we all know how I hate to retrace my steps.
Most of the beach houses are not appealing and some are downright goofy. It's nice to run along the ocean - but for 4 1/2 miles? You start to feel like "You've seen one wave, you've seen them all."
You call this paradise?
It didn't help that I had a wisp of funkiness to me this morning as I left the dawg at home this time due to the heat and found myself ever-so-slightly lonely.
As I was finishing up with a 5 min cool-down walk, a man pushing his quadriplegic daughter in a jogging wheelchair when by "Hoyt style". (if you are not familiar with Team Hoyt, you really should check out this article).
I was amazed. To think of the work they had to go through this morning - getting dressed - getting out to the car - getting in the car - driving to the beach - getting all the gear unloaded and ready - and now, there they were, the daughter breathing in the morning air and gazing at the same waves that I found oh-so-last-mile - the father, drenched in sweat, pushing his daughter from behind.
That's commitment - that's devotion - that's love.
Sounds cliche, but the the fellow joggers I saw over the course of the next few minutes seemed like walking miracles. Here we are, standing on our own power - going where we want - when we want - none of us confined to a wheelchair for the rest of our lives.
I decided that maybe I should kick my shoes off, sit down and shut my internal yap for a moment.
I did.
And it was paradise.
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