Something beautiful is the ocean. It is too big to be beautiful, too powerful. Too free. It is ocean. There is no real way to describe it if you're there, 20-40 feet from the beach, about to touch the buoy. The sound is quiet but only because itself is so deafening. It's so everything you forget you're in it. The mountains. Those can't be. Hard and rocky when all you're doing is floating. And you wonder how many people walk into this very slosh hoping to never walk out, maybe with weights attached, and at the last minute they realize they could have just come here every day instead of the places they hated.
The salt will sting but it's also a seasoning. It smells like fresh and tastes like life. I ran into it after a two miler. I felt it wiped me clean. All I had was my droopy underpants and a striped sports bra. That was plenty. A reminder that holding clothes all dirty and sandy, shoving your shoes under your armpit is acceptable. Walk back across the street barefoot and grimy but better than before.
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