Weekend Warriors

Today was absolute bliss along the coast. We met at our old stomping grounds at one of many Starbucks in the hood. Jen and Susan carpooled and met Tracy and me at our starting point. None of us had done this particular 15 mile course north along the coast in ages.

We headed our in total darkness (for something new and different) and freezing air (this is still nothing short of amazing and miraculous to me) up the hill and into Del Mar, a magical place. What I thought might be an awkward and uncomfortable run, trying to settle into a pace with three other girls who had not been together in a year, turned into pure bliss. It was as if not a day had passed between us, loping along the highway, waiting for the sun to come up. I am never sure how pace and conversation will sort themselves out after time away from each other, but somehow we managed to roll right into a beautiful run.

We weaved in and out of my favorite streets of Del Mar, hardly aware of the million dollar homes around us, almost taking for granted again the hills above and cliffs below. The sound of the waves under us whispered their peaceful presence against the cliff side and sky was pitch black, though dotted with stars.

We headed toward the scene of the terrible cartilaginous crime, the sea monster who attacked the unsuspecting triathlete last year. I still shudder every time I pass that surf spot and wonder how his family is coping now, how they might continue to love the ocean that took their beloved. If I think about it too long or too much in depth, I think I may never swim in that sea again. So I push down the negative thoughts and try to calm my frayed nerves, reminding myself we are on land at the moment, in awe of the endless blue of unknowns.

After passing Blood Alley (named for the bikers and runners who have been hit by cars with careless drivers checking the surf), we stopped for a quick squat break and dodged one sleeping homeless man. I told Tracy she could just as easily squat behind a No Parking sign and still be hidden, her slight frame all of maybe 86 pounds. She was not amused and quite annoyed that the bathrooms were still not open yet for business as usual. This coast or that, runners are still the same, ducking in bushes and jumping behind trees to tend to nature that calls at the most inopportune times.

We turned around and traced our footing back, though failing to account for the added steps in looking for an open restroom, and falling just short of 15 once in the Starbucks parking lot. Susan made us run laps around the parking lot until her Garmin read the official number ("Are you for real?") and the onlookers inside were amused by this senseless act. I am glad we did, however, because in killing that time (and our feet), we bought the necessary minutes to catch Sue, Kathleen, and Jan who were rolling in from the other direction from their early morning run, and jumping in cars to get to the swim workout. I was elated to see them and catch up for a few minutes, as well, until I felt faint as though I might fall over. I think it had something to do with the torrid pace Susan set for us coming home (even Jen gave up on that), and upon abruptly stopping, my mind had not yet caught up with the program. I think my brain was still in fast jiggle mode- nothing a latte couldn't fix, however.

How happy I am to know a group of strong and self-assured women, who each bring something unique to the run and the conversation. Why was I worried? Why did I think we would somehow not connect again? How could all of the miles and roads and races shared between us not forever connect us? Why would I even doubt that bond? Maybe because time does change people and circumstances- I am a different person than I was two years ago, with different expectations and different dreams. But under all of the layers, I am still a runner to the core, and so are my girls.