About two weeks ago I walked to the shores and back, about a 3 mile round trip. When I arrived at the shores, I sat in the sand for a while and thought, "I wonder how warm the water is." So I donned all my clothes, except for my pants, which I rolled up, and waded into the water. It was surprisingly warm, or at least not as cold as I expected. After sitting on the shore and letting the water come up to my waist I thought I would be totally immersed and it was invigorating. I swam out a few strokes but when I turned around, the shore looked like it was a quarter mile away, so I started swimming back, not realizing I was stuck in a rip that wanted to pull me out. I was determined not to wave for the lifeguard, so I swam back, swallowing some water, finally able to stand up in the sand, but I was so tired the smallest wave would knock me down. I was fine and went to put my clothes on.
So.;;today I went to wash my clothes and
reached into the pocket of the pants I wore at the beach, and there was sand in
all the pockets. Not just a few grains, but probably a total of a handful. I
had to stand over the kitchen garbage and pull the pockets out to empty all the
sand.
When I walked back from the shores I was
drenched and pretty cold by the time I got home.
What inspired me was that I realized in my
reading and tv I was reading about other people's lives and
their adventures. Well, I wanted to have an adventure. So I did. Not that I'll
write about it any more than this note to you. But still...
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