To pay myself back for the things I did last night I forced my thumping noodle and the body it's attached to out of bed at five o'clock this morning to join Steve for a sunrise run along the San Francisco Bay.
A dozen or so yards from the shore a pair of seals surfaced the moment we pulled into the Crissy Field parking lot and Steve didn't hesitate to name them—LuSEAL and ReSEAL. I suggested that if they decide to go the parenting route one day their first child could be called Navy (SEAL). Steve wasn't impressed and Lu and Re showed their disapproval by diving into the deep and not coming back up for the remainder of our workout.
To be honest, I don't know how I'm gonna make it through the day today.
Bevan usually walks the dogs in the morning because, well, retirement, but he's in New York this week for a conference or something (I can't remember) so today it was up to me to make sure Ellie went numero dos somewhere other than the rug in Sid's room and while she was doing just that on the tiny patch of grass at the end of our block I was treated to this.
Steve picked me up at 5:45 on Tuesday morning and we headed to Ocean Beach for an easy run on flat ground. We'd planned to jog back and forth along a half-mile stretch of pavement between the road and the sand until we'd done three miles, but a section of the Great Highway was closed to traffic so we took advantage of its long, even terrain and ran that instead.
Mostly we stuck to the roadside, tracing the solid white line typically reserved for pedestrians during times of normal service, but every so often we'd allow ourselves to drift toward the center, feeling rebellious and silly as we did so, making our way through the darkness on this big famous boulevard that, for one cool morning in early autumn, belonged only to us.
At the halfway point we turned around to see bikers and joggers and men wielding surfboards moving about, criss-crossing the blacktop before us. Far off, the horizon line was aglow in pastels. When our three miles were through and we'd made it back to the car, sweating and out of breath, our hands numb from the ocean wind, we stretched our legs and watched the sun emerge to treat the West to a glorious barrage of rose-colored sky.
It's 11:31 on Friday morning and I got up to see the sunrise and I’ve pet two dogs already and there's a chance I'll eat French fries later and below are three non-showtunes that have been traveling into my earholes as of late.