Exercise

The walk begins with the sighting of a snowy egret fishing in the creek that feeds into the ocean. This early hour allows for a lot more nature at the beach than just the scavenging gulls who'll arrive later in droves seeking stray cheese curls and discarded sandwich corners. I've seen lots of egrets in my 15 years here, but usually from the car or the train. I've never been this close to one. So I stop before I've even started and watch the bird wading in the water, leading with its long neck and bill at every step.

Soon, another walker comes over the footbridge, and the startled bird takes off on long white wings.

On the first lap, the beach is quiet, the tide is low. I notice that the waterline is littered with small crab shells, so many that it causes me to wonder if there was some "event" the previous night that caused all this mass crab death.  That happens sometimes with fish. Hundreds of fish wash up on shore for no apparent reason. Always disturbing.

Low tide is also a time for sandpipers scurrying in and out of the water. I love watching these birds. In spite of their tiny steps, they move gracefully as a flock, turning together this way and that like a school of fish.

The shore side of the beach is lined with houses that appear atop a six-foot seawall. In front of every six or so buildings a staircase leads from the top of the seawall to the beach down below. These houses used to be mostly rustic summer rentals, but little by little they are being transformed into impressive vacation homes.

Signs of life at these houses are few. There are a one or two people out on their porches with a cup of coffee, enjoying the quiet. At the far end of the beach, in front of the hotel, there are several families out. Colorful umbrellas have sprouted, staking positions for the day. Small, brave children play in the waves. A father fishes and his two young sons carry nets, waiting.

By the second lap, the sun has begun to burn through the morning grey. My heart rate is up and I am beginning to feel the walk in my legs. A woman, fully dressed lies on the damp sand with no towel. She is chatting on a cell phone. I am puzzled, but pause to pet her adorable Westie who awaits the resumption of his own walk. Technically, dogs are not allowed in the beach in the summer, but before 10 AM and after 4 PM, there are always a few chasing sticks or ball, getting wet and sandy and having the time of their lives. I miss our black lab mix something fierce every time I see a dog on the beach.

I am so focused on finding tiny shells and sea glass in the sand beneath my feet that I don't always see the waves. But when I do look up I see the glittering ocean and the islands offshore, I take a moment to remember how lucky I am to live here. For as long as I can remember, the sound of the waves has calmed my racing mind. I'm on my third lap and I'm starting to feel it in my back.

By the fourth lap I am nearly knee deep in the waves. The Tevas on my feet act provide resistance in the water making me really push for that final half mile. The sun is truly out and more families are beginning to show up. It's time for me to head home - and write something.