There are no markers for how far you have gone or will go. The ground is an endless stretch of broken shells, sand and surf. The alpha rhythm of the waves rolling in and out like the earth breathing seems synched with your heart and lungs, blood pounding in your head. Every dune begins to look alike, each small parting between the sea oats the possible path back to your weathered beach house. Your sweat whisked away by the constant wind. How far, how far, how far--your thoughts-- skipping back and forth between the machine of your body and the tablet of the sky. Voices, snatches of songs, conversations now passed roll through your mind like railroad cars. Your feet the arches made stronger, mid foot fall foot fall foot fall. You can feel the sand absorbing your weight, muscle, fat, and bone. Arms pumping your torso seems to roll with your pelvis. You can feel the sockets of your hips bones rotating back and forth like the fulcrum of a pendulum. Your body knows when you have finished the first mile it stops complaining and settles in for the ride, breathing and pounding a steady rhythm. No pain.
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