Beach running: a report.

Let me start off by saying that running on the beach is hard. Very hard. Either that or I am VERY out of practice. Since I am on vacation, I didn't set the alarm at some absurdly early hour but instead woke up and was ready to run at 8 AM.

My warm-up consisted of walking to the beach (about 2 blocks) and then across the beach to the water's edge (another 100 meters or so) and as I walked across the soft sand I couldn't help but feel (and look) like a drunken college girl, not that I have any idea what that feels like.

Once I got to the lifeguard chair, I looked around and realized I was pretty much alone, and just started running. It felt great, running again after so long, good music on the iPod but not so loud that I couldn't hear the crashing waves in the background. Also, I felt very safe, it was wide open space wherever I looked with no place for anyone to hide lying in wait to jump out at me. For the record, I live and run in a very safe neighbourhood, I'm just a tab paranoid.

So that was the first five minutes, and it really went downhill after that....For one, it was hot and although I didn't realize it at the time, I was running with the wind at my back which meant no sea breeze to cool me off. I passed a lot of people walking on the beach and I quickly realized that running on the beach is not for sissies and immediately began to feel out of my league. This actually happens quite often when I run, so I'm used to it.

About 15 minutes in, another woman runner passed me and left me in her dust. Again, this happens quite often, but I was most amazed to see that she was running without any water while I felt like I was crossing the Sahara and was guarding every drop in my Camelbak (yes, it's back, more on that later!). Right after she passed me, I took my first break. Not a walking break, but a real break where I hobbled over to the tiny sliver of shade by another lifeguard chair and wondered what the heck I was doing. Nothing like a little self-doubt to get your morning going.

Break time over, I ploughed ahead and with Atlantic City looming ever larger in the distance, I felt like I was in some sort of bizarre gambler's dream. As I neared the end of the route (and island) I ran out of hard sand and was left with the option of either soft dry sand or soft wet sand. I chose wet and immediately felt like was sinking into quicksand. I finally made it to the edge, where I was assaulted by a swarm of dragonflies while I admired (?) the casino's across the water, and turned around and headed back.

Ahh, what a difference a little wind makes. I am sure that serious runners avoid running into the wind because it takes precious seconds off their time, but to me it felt like heaven. I trudged on, all the while thinking that the hardest part was behind me and I just had to get back now. Along the way, a guy packing up a fitness class (yoga on the beach-how cool is that?!) offered me water from his cooler, but I just waved and said I had some but now that I think about it, I must have looked pretty haggard out there for him to be offering water to a total stranger.

Finally, I spotted the modern house at the end of our street, or so I thought. I was so close, I was so relieved that the run was over, I had gone too long without running and had paid the price, a lesson learned the hard way. But I just needed to go a little further and then walk back to the house where a nice cool shower awaited me.

As I approached the lifeguard chair I realized in horror that the number that corresponds with the street number was off by seven digits! I was not home yet, in fact I was still more than seven blocks away....I looked waaaaay down the beach to see a very similar modern house and the next lifeguard chair. At this point I wanted to cry. I was hot, tired and done. For a second I thought about just walking the rest of the way, but I had no choice but to keep running a little while longer.

In the end, I ran a little under 5 miles at my typical 15 min/mile pace but it felt like an eternity. Like I said before, beach running; not for sissies. Or at least not for this one!