three hundred words a day. july 21.

At home, I mostly see the same people when I run - the die hard runners who forgo sleep in the early mornings to do what we love to do.

But one of the many incredible benefits of living by the beach in the summertime for me is that I can run at any time of day.  I can run at six am if I like.  Or noon.  Or six pm.  I'm not limited to the pre-dawn hours, racing to get out and get the miles done before the heat of the day sets in.

This lets me see so many new and different people as I run, from the Navy boys without their shirts, to the triathletes with their tri-kits and fuel belts, to the weekend warriors and the mommas like myself.

But every year, there has been one staple.  One little tanned raisin of a runner that I have always been able to set my watch by.  A man I have christened the running man, and every year for ten years or more, I look for him. 

There he is!  The running man!

A few years back, the littles began looking for him, too. 

momo, he lives our block!  There he goes - the running man!

This year, however, no matter how much we have looked, we have yet to see him.  Did he move?  Is he injured in some way?  Did he stop running?  And although I don't want to go there, could he be... sick?

After so many years, he is like an old friend and I cannot help but wonder about him, worry about him.  My eyes scan the runners, hoping for a glimpse, hoping he is safe, sending prayers to man I have never met but whose impact on me will last my lifetime.

three hundred words a day. july 1.

I love the summertime.

Just a moment, let me qualify that statement.  

I love the summertime… in Coronado. 

As I drive over the bridge that leads to town for the first time each summer, my body begins to relax as if on cue.  My lungs expand, I can breathe.  The tension I carry around with me, day in and day out at home, mysteriously evaporates into the cool, ocean air.  The physical changes are palpable. 

And eventually, my stubborn mind follows suit.

This is my happy place.  It is good.
At times I wonder if the spell would be broken should the fates make it possible for us to live here year round.  Would this place become just like any other place to me?  Would it lose its magic?

Somehow I do not believe so.  Somehow I know that what draws me here is more than an escape from my current reality.  A chance to get away for a bit.  No, it is more than that.  Much more.

It is the peace that all is right when my feet are in the sand and the sun is on my face and my gaze is on the horizon.  It is the catch in my throat, the hope in our future, as our country’s flag flies high overhead.  It is the joy on the faces of my littles dancing on Sundays in the park.  It is the strength that awes me as I watch those who serve do what they do for me, for us.  It is the history I have with this Island.  It is the smiles that come more freely, the words that are spoken more gently, the laughter that bubbles out of me.

Yes, my heart will forever belong to this place, whether summertime or spring, wintertime or fall.