I live pretty close to the beach. I can see the ocean from a few places in my apartment if I stand on my tip-toes, and it’s maybe a five minute drive to the sea walk. I thought, hey, why don’t I walk to the beach? Yesterday I spent most of the day watching episodes of Popular, so I could probably use the fresh air. Mother and I had planned on walking to the beach while she was here, but never got a chance, but from our plan I knew it wasn’t actually that close via walking. I’d have to walk down a hill, and then on the Island Highway for a bit, and then I’d get to the sea walk. Today, I optimistically wore my sweat pants and runners, and set out for the beach.
After about five minutes of walking, I started to get a sinking feeling. Walking to the beach was going to be super easy, because it’s all downhill; walking home from the beach was going to be a disaster, because it’s all up hill. However, even with this in mind I just wanted to see how far it was. Walking beside the highway was a bit scary because I was on the side with no sidewalk (keep in mind that when I say “highway” it is not a highway like on the mainland. It’s one lane both ways, but it’s still a busy road) but I persevered until I made it to the beginning of the sea walk. Fifteen minutes, only! Although because of the steep downhill the whole way my legs felt a bit funny. I walked for a bit on the sea walk, and discovered it to be a misnomer: for the first while, it is actually just a regular sidewalk because houses and apartment buildings have taken over the beach and inserted themselves between the seawalk and the ocean. So I gave up and turned around, because I was anticipating an awful uphill battle and it was taking too long to see the ocean.
Walking home was just as bad as I’d thought it would be. I was good at the first big hill, because I just kept putting one foot in front of the other at a steady pace, but then I came to the part where I had to cross the highway – there was a crosswalk, but not one with lights so I didn’t know if anyone would actually stop for me. They did, and because I didn’t want to take twenty minutes to cross the street with cars waiting impatiently on either side, I ran across. Then I didn’t want to look like an idiot who just runs across the street and then walks the rest of the way, so I ran up the hill for a bit until I thought all the cars who’d seen me were gone. HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS. That was a terrible idea. I was debating collapsing on someone’s lawn for a recuperation break, but remembered from high school PE that you are not supposed to suddenly stop moving after exerting yourself. So I kept going. Up and up and up the stupid hill back to my apartment. Then I had to climb a flight of stairs because I feel silly taking the elevator up one floor, plus it’s a creepy elevator who is never quite sure if it’s going to open the doors for you or not.
As soon as I’d locked the front door behind me, I threw all my clothes in the laundry and jumped in the shower. I haven’t exercised like that since I moved all my stuff into my apartment. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be sore tomorrow. What was I thinking? Wearing sweatpants does not automatically make me athletic. Maybe next time I will drive down to the beach and THEN walk. Or challenge myself and find a slightly more gradual way home. We’ll see.
No comments:
Post a Comment