Zen And The Art Of Beach Jogging

After tying one on a little too heavily on Halloween and spending all day Saturday on the couch recovering (why is a 30 year old even trying to keep up with Marines in their early 20s?), I made a resolution to do something constructive this Sunday. Give the old homestead a cleaning: check. Laundry: yup. Pay bills: complete. Back up hard drive: done. Catch up on all the TV shows stacking up in my DVR: mission accomplished... other than Survivor. I just can't get in to this season.

All that hard work resulted in me having a massive Taco Bell craving. I tried to ignore it but the demand for processed spicy chicken and Fire sauce could not be suppressed. "Fine," I bartered with myself "but only after a jog." I drug my lazy ass across the bridge to Emerald Isle and parked at the closest public beach access before I could talk myself out of it.

Damn if it wasn't the best thing I did all weekend. Weather was perfect, mid-60s with little wind. It was right at 5 PM so the sun was starting its descent. No Ipod necessary when I have a symphony of waves and seagulls. This shit beats running on a treadmill in a crowded gym any day.

All my talk about moving here so I could be close to the beach, and yet I really haven't been taking full advantage of it. This week's goal is to get out there as much as possible, even if it is for a quick walk after work.

And, yes, I still indulged in greasy, nasty Taco Bell. And it was good!