My wonderful roommates bought me my first-ever massage as a post-marathon treat. The massage was booked for 3:45pm at a yoga studio an hour away, near the beach. As my workday quickly dwindled, a plan slowly unfolded.
I started training for this marathon at almost exactly the same time I started dating someone. I guess it's fitting that both ended within a day of each other. I finished the marathon and thought, "What now?" The answer? I have no fucking clue. I lack a little direction right now, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to run around aimlessly. I'm infamous for my inability to relax. Not since I was conceived, my mom says, have I been able to sit still. I'm trying to be at peace with this whole ebb-and-flow thing, be okay with the fact that I'm actually going stir-crazy though I need to relax and let my body recover. Massage, beach, sunset... then rushing back home so we could go out to the bar for trivia like we do every week.
After my massage, I had a magazine, my MCAT book, and a decent craving for a hot cup of coffee. But instead of looking up beachside cafés, instead of a Point A-to-Point B direct route, I would just drive. I decided to follow the traffic, hugging the coast until I hit a nice little strip mall with a Starbucks inside a Safeway. I splurged on a Salted Caramel Mocha, got a bar of spiced chocolate, and treated myself to a sunset on the beach. I found a break in a chain-link fence and a sign that said, "WARNING: Dangerous cliffs. Do not go beyond this point." Damn right I took that as an invitation.
I started on the cliff, overlooking the ocean. I didn't want to get my massage-oiled feet wet and sandy. But soon I found myself sans ballet flats, clambering over boulders down to the beach, welcomed by a scruffy fisherman and equally scruffy dog who ran up to me barking, like he had been waiting for me. Five times in a row.
After my massage, I had a magazine, my MCAT book, and a decent craving for a hot cup of coffee. But instead of looking up beachside cafés, instead of a Point A-to-Point B direct route, I would just drive. I decided to follow the traffic, hugging the coast until I hit a nice little strip mall with a Starbucks inside a Safeway. I splurged on a Salted Caramel Mocha, got a bar of spiced chocolate, and treated myself to a sunset on the beach. I found a break in a chain-link fence and a sign that said, "WARNING: Dangerous cliffs. Do not go beyond this point." Damn right I took that as an invitation.
I started on the cliff, overlooking the ocean. I didn't want to get my massage-oiled feet wet and sandy. But soon I found myself sans ballet flats, clambering over boulders down to the beach, welcomed by a scruffy fisherman and equally scruffy dog who ran up to me barking, like he had been waiting for me. Five times in a row.
I keep thinking about blogs and how certain people only like posts with a unified theme. A central topic that has subtexts and develops throughout the paragraphs. That's not what this is. My thoughts aren't cohesive. I've only got photos. Lots of them.
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