The Sun and the Tides and the Weather

Have I mentioned before that it sometimes gets a little windy out here on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean?  When the south wind blows, it is coming straight in across the ocean; parting the sliding glass door only an inch or two will allow it to push its foot inside, rush in, and ransack the place, papers and magazines on the table fluttering to the floor.  When the north wind blows, the building itself blocks it, so we can stand on the balcony in warm sunshine and gaze out at the wildly shaking palm trees around the pool.  But then the mad dash to the car parked under the building exposes us to its power, as we slip inside and struggle to close the doors.

It has been that way for two days now, with unrelenting winds of 20 to 25 miles per hour, gusts sometimes higher.  Both nights, the railings have shaken and rattled and vibrated all night.  It has reminded us both of that morning two years ago when we ran the Crystal Coast Half Marathon and 10-K and faced that same northerly wind crossing the big bridge across the sound, which felt like strong hands pushing against us.

The elemental facts of sun and ocean and wind and weather mean more to us than to some because we try to keep on our running schedule, and for the most part that has been easy to do with the unusually warm January we have had until now.  First thing in the morning I check three apps on my iPhone:  the sunrise, the tides, and the weather.

Monday, it was 32 degrees when we awoke, with a wind chill of 22; but in Highlands it was only 14 degrees.  We are so much better off struggling against this wind here than stuck indoors back in Highlands restricted to treadmill running.  It had warmed up a little by afternoon, where I spent the afternoon out at Parker Honda having some maintenance done on our car.  I left Martha at the condo, reading a book.  But when I returned around 5:00 p.m., I discovered that she had run – well, walked and run – four miles of a planned five-mile run.  The wind had been so strong, she said, that she had turned back before reaching Fort Macon and made her way home.

This afternoon, I kept watching the wind speed and the wild palm trees, and I could not sit still any longer.  I bundled up as much as I could and went out over Martha's objections for a two-mile run.  I pointed out to her that she had done the same yesterday.  “Also, I’m not right in the head!” I reminded her.  The wind was a force to be reckoned with, especially starting off due north out the driveway from the condo.  Some city workers were gathered around a backhoe installing a storm drain a few streets west of here and looked as uncomfortable as I was.  One of them shook his head as I passed him.  I was glad to return!

Now that Delbert McClinton song keeps going through my head:

If there's anything at all that's wrong with her,

It's something I just can't see.

Ain't no doubt about it,

She's the same kind of crazy as me.

This afternoon, we tuned in to the Senate trial on the TV that we never turn on.  As much as we try to escape from politics and stress, to spend more time reading and writing, walking on the beach, striving to become, if I may say, healthier both physically and spiritually, this high drama continues to play out in our nation's capital.  We don't want to watch, and yet we can't take our eyes off of it.