I was once like you. I once imagined south Texas to be a little alcove of sunshine and biscuits and seafood galore, no matter what day or time it was. Don’t the long rays of the sun always heat the gulf of Mexico and the surrounding land to a nice cooked piece of perfection? Wouldn’t Texas just be a radtacular place for a long, scenery-splattering run? Yes, I was once like you. I’m not anymore.
Leaving home without my running shoes for more than twenty hours would be like leaving home without my teeth. It simply isn’t an option. I enjoy a nice vacation, but I don’t feel like myself unless I have the option of a run in a new city or state. So when I headed out to Texas to see the Gulf of Mexico, of course I gently placed my Brooks Adrenaline into my carry-on luggage, and a pair of running shorts and a sports bra into my suitcase. Run on, I thought merrily!
I wish I could write about running on the shore of the Gulf. I wish I could write about touristy runners, unfortunate suntanners, and nibbling on sand for days after I left Texas. I’d like to say something about beach volleyball, about long walks after dark, and laps in a T shaped pool. But Texas fooled me.
A runner would have needed heavy pants, a face mask, and ski goggles to make it through the whipping winds on the sand or on the street. The squeal of the wind sounded like a taunt at one point, so I headed outside to heed that prickling noise and show it was boss; instead, I got schooled in wind so heavy it picked me up as I tried to run through it and waves to fierce they were tossing jellyfish upon the shore for an electric time.
Alas, I spent my vacation in the hot tub, playing rummy, and watching the History channel. But don’t think I’m forgetting about Texas…and my shoes did come in handy when I wandered onto the mud flats!