The ocean churns and brews on the right as waves of seafoam rush in and out across the shallow sandbar. Beyond the tumultuous shore breaks, the surface of the Pacific rests low and flat and unchanging, hiding the turmoil beneath. To the left, weedy seagrasses and sea fig weave complex rootbeds which provide a robust structure for the sand and earth which establish the twelve foot dunes that rise up from the beach. Directly above, the sky is clear and devoid of colour with exception to the short lengths of tranquil blue. Yet on the circumference of the hemispherical firmament sits a layer of grey-white nimbostrati which almost entirely engulf the horizon. As he runs south steadily along the coarse granules on the shore’s edge, the sky above seems to move with him, as though it is tethered to some invisible axis which runs through the length of his spine, keeping the ominous appearance of the horizon at a consistent radial distance at all times.
The sole of his naked foot strikes the wet compact shoreline rolling steadily from ankle to ball, rhythmic and constant. Sand erodes slightly underfoot as he pushes against and contact between his foot and the earth below is removed. Water hurriedly seeps to the surface, each step a momentary imprint of his instantaneous location, together demarcating his journey along the ocean’s edge until the ocean itself wipes clean the shore and removes any trace of his and countless others occupancy. His gaze is directly forward, flickering between some abstract and unknown point on the horizon on which he is fixed to run to and the shoreline in the immediate vicinity of his next few steps, carefully scanning the slightly embanked sand for small rocks or shells, movement that may indicate the presence of some crustacean, the sudden surge of water from his right. His gait is short and his pace is slow. The placement of each stride is imperative to prevent unnecessary stress upon his ankles and his calf muscles, the latter of which has already begun to feel the accumulation of lactic acid. He focuses on deep constant breathing, drawing oxygen into the bottom of his lungs filling each and every bronchiole, where it is diffused into the blood stream and sent via his heart cavorting every which way throughout the vast venous network within him. He is somehow hyperaware of each cell within him working synchronously to power his movement, some prehistoric and subconscious part of his brain sending electrical pulses and chemical signals to muscles and tendons which together lift dense bone and limb and place each foot precisely on the sand in front of him. His core temperature climbs. Perspiration begins to break out in all the usual places, his brow, his chest, the underside of his arms. He removes his sunglasses to remove his shirt and with his left arm reaches around and tucks it in the back of his shorts so it hangs loosely and flurries each time he takes a step.
He weaves through families and large groups who sit enjoying the warm October sun, the late Indian summer. Men stand in shorts that drop below their knees with canned drinks in hand. Women lie still on large towels in large sunglasses in bathing suits of all colours. Children covered head-to-toe in sand run in wild flocks, parents unbothered with their whereabouts. The sounds of their revelry are damped only by the persistent churning of the ocean. The beach narrows as the dunes encroach closer to the shorelines and the swell seems to roughen slightly and the beachgoers begin to thin out until he is alone on the beach with his thoughts for some time.
He holds his left arm still for five paces and glances down and checks his watch, this old nickel-plated timepiece. Twenty minutes has passed already. Halfway to halfway. Further down the beach, he passes the concrete remains of the eroded naval base sunken into the sand, the other half sitting high above on the towering dunes. He runs through packs of dogs running rampant in the shallow trickle from the stormwater overfill, their owners watching from close by in small huddles, leashes hanging at the ready as they discuss breeds and breeders and ages and behaviors and call their names when the scrimmage gets too rough which it always does. He runs beneath hang gliders whose aviation grade aluminium frames suspend synthetic sailcloths taught in the breeze and they soar back and forth mirroring the large black ravens which jump daringly off the embankment, diving towards the sand beneath before opening their wings and rushing upwards towards the heavens. He runs by fisherman, standing kneedeep in the swell in rubber boots and waders with rods sitting erect in one inch diameter polyvinyl chloride pipes thrust deep into the sand, lines cast twenty feet out. He passes the last of the fisherman who has rushed from his perch on his reversed five gallon bucket to wrestle in some beast on the baited end of the line and the corridor of beach opens wide again as the cliffs cease to hug the shoreline and recede back towards the land. People again are few and far between and often accompanied by a hound snuffling in the edges of the seagrasses or chasing a ball. The dull ache in his calves grows yet his pace remains consistent, slow, but steady, as each pace bring him closer to his predetermined forty minute marker.
Above the bluff, paragliders swing lazily back and forth in the lofty eddy currents that draft upwards off the landmass. Their movements are pendulumlike, each of them moving laterally whilst swinging hypnotically about what seems to be fixed trajectory. The sun, getting low in the west, illuminates the underside of their sails, painting a kaleidoscopic flurry of movement above him as he himself slowly swings around in a one hundred and eighty degree arc and begins to traverse the route back to his starting point. As he turns his back on the south the roar of a jet engine fills the skies, huge turbines ejecting it out above the paragliders and eventually over the mighty Pacific where it banks right and begins to glide higher, parallel to the beach and to him as he runs northbound. Momentarily, he is synchronous with the aircraft before it thrusts off and becomes just a reflection of sunlight on the horizon, leaving him to finish his run at his own pace. The pain has begun to settle in now, his body operating at a constant intensity for almost an hour. He continues north, exchanging smiles with the few people he passes on this desolate and empty stretch of beach. He runs past what he thought was a large log on his way south, this time realizing it is rather the body of a deceased fur seal, killed in some unknown battle out at sea, the current depositing the bloated mass of flesh and organs some ways up the shore in a recent high tide.
He becomes unilaterally focused on completion. His ability to let his mind drift to his surroundings and to thoughts that existed dormant and patient in the corner of his mind has diminished and he now has to concentrate on hitting the starting mark parallel to the staircase at Pacheco where he began his run. He passes the fisherman, although there are fewer now with some of them in the process of packing down their rods and their tackleboxes and hauling away their catches to their trucks parked nearby. He returns through the concrete slabs of the old naval base and the packs of dogs and their owners. He runs the narrow stretch of beach out until it opens up again and the crowds of beachgoers continuing to enjoy themselves in the evening sun. As he nears his end point a surge of energy rushes through him and he drives his knees higher and pushes deep into the sand and increases his stride length and brings the final mile home at a quicker pace than he felt capable of all run. When he crosses the starting point the watch is showing an hour and twenty three minutes have passed since he set out and he removes the watch and his shirt from the back of his shorts and the sunglasses from the perch of his nose and places them in the sand and turns and hobbles gingerly into the ocean with his calves alight and submerges himself within the cool fastmoving current. He lays there floating, breathing, for some time, watching the sun sink gradually closer to the now cloudless horizon.