I made a decision quite a while back. It's not really a vow; but almost. When life finds me near the ocean I make an effort to get my feet wet. This pseudo-self-pact has put me ankles deep in the midnight moonlight in Charleston; body-surfing (completely unprepared) in a shrivellingly chilly Pacific; knee deep in the Great White's home turf Indian Ocean off South Africa's Eastern Cape; and the requisite frolics in the Gulf - which really don't count because most were designed beach excursions. (Not to mention an early spring run in, and quickly out of, Lake Michigan - not an ocean, so it only kind of counts. Oh yeah, and an ill-advised winter swim in Old Mill Creek - but that was college, and something we really don't talk about.)
My point is, I have to be reminded from time to time to get my feet wet. Literally doing so drives the point home. LIVE! GET YOUR FEET WET!
I don't necessarily like sand getting into places averse to sand (and abrasion). It is easier most times to simply enjoy the view. It is more comfortable. But when I get my feet wet, it reminds me life is not about seeking the greatest comfort. Life is about passion. Life is about LIVING!
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| Can't hide selfies from mirrored lenses |
So today's cardio was a power-walk on Cocoa Beach in the rain. The guy next to me on the flight home is probably less excited about my wet-dog, sweaty beach smell. But hey, I got my feet wet!
Get your feet wet!
For now...
D
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| And a little work on the pier |
