There's a break in the rain. It had been almost four straight days of it, pretty hard stuff, including a stiff, stiff wind on Sunday afternoon out at Ft Funston. I'd felt a hard wind on other runs in this city, mostly down at Crissy Field running toward the Bridge, but not at all like on Sunday on the beach below Ft Funston.
It was low tide. Between the weather and the Niners, I had the beach to myself. There were miles in front and behind me and at least forty yards from ocean to cliffs, with double that in some places. I ran as close to the ocean as I could as the sand that wasn't wet had no interest in staying where it was, but in attacking my shins and knees.
What took a little over twenty minutes on the way out, took a little less than twenty minutes on the way back and when I got home, and showered, Baleen had the Thai Chicken Curry ready to eat.
It was low tide. Between the weather and the Niners, I had the beach to myself. There were miles in front and behind me and at least forty yards from ocean to cliffs, with double that in some places. I ran as close to the ocean as I could as the sand that wasn't wet had no interest in staying where it was, but in attacking my shins and knees.
What took a little over twenty minutes on the way out, took a little less than twenty minutes on the way back and when I got home, and showered, Baleen had the Thai Chicken Curry ready to eat.
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