We ran aong Ocean Beach today. It was brillaintly sunny, but an unceasing wind blew straight in from the ocean, loud as a freeway. We ran from Sloat Beach to the cliff house; a distance i jusge to be around three miles. I ran along the glistening wet sand in the immeadiate path of the tide. She preferred to run above the water line, along a path of crushed sea shells and other oceanic detritus.
I felt like i could have sprinted a lot of it, but I hung back and waited for j. The dog went crazy and tried to run down every gull and sand piper. He seemed tireless as he harassed the birds, running up and down the beach, constantly in and out of the water.
When we got ot the cliff house, we walked off the three mile jog, and I felt like every footfall we made along the sand was somehow earned. I told J what little I knew about the cliffhouse, and then we began the long walk back. It seemed much father when we were walking it, and the light was getting flat. The sea was a silver color, swishing around and breaking in its irregular, choppy way. It was uncomfortably cold by the time we got to my truck, and I had trouble opening the vehicle's locks with my numbed fingers.