point lobos, in between carmel, ca and big sur, ca is one of those places i’ve run a hundred times. in the rain, fog, sun, alone and with others.
there is something about this particular trail that begins at the south end, turns east past china beach away from the ocean into a splendid monterey pine forest and then to whalers cove. smashing.
more than anything running is about pace. pace has much to do with being real. because when my pace gets out of control, and here i’m talking about my pace of life – when my life gets out of control i drop into a facade, a persona – it’s not the real me when i’m doing chop wood carry water busyness like i’m working on a conveyer belt.
it is with a moderate pace that recognizes the need to kick it up, sprint with a burst, then back of, paying attention to the breath, to the swing of the arms, the rhythm of left right left right, the wiping the sweat, the inhale and the exhale and then coming back to the place where i can run forever. And it is then that i’m back , me, the real me, simply being