Saturday in San Diego

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I pulled into Harbor Drive early this morning fully expecting to run 30 minutes max, and all alone, due to a volunteer shortage for our half marathon training program. Instead, I got to be a full part of the group, from the warm-up stretch through a post-run breakfast in Old Town.

This is my kind of Saturday morning.

I’ve been doing my weekend long runs at the butt-crack of dawn to avoid the worst of the heat inland, so it was a treat just to run along the brine-scented bay still covered in a thick marine layer. I've missed the hum of airport traffic and the urban trees and maritime museum and bold gulls along the embarcadero just slightly peppered with tourists and fellow runners and cyclists at that hour.

On this morning, we turned up Ash Street just beyond the Star of India and headed up to Sixth Avenue. Due to traffic lights at every block, our group of three quickly grew to 8 and then 12 by the time we’d passed the hotels, city jail and skyscrapers and mentally prepared for a long, steady hill. Eventually we all stopped talking to conserve energy and then stopped at the top of the hill for a beverage break. The rest of the group continued on into Balboa Park while I turned to head back alone.

It was a wonderful feeling to again run strong as I took in the slumbering homeless in alcoves and the Comic-Con guests cueing up for shuttle buses. Some were in costumes and everyone else seemed to be in black. I thought of how much these people must have paid to come here and how fortunate we locals really are.

I had better luck with the traffic lights on the way back until I got stuck at a trolley crossing with a surprising number of passengers at 8 in the morning. From there the next traffic light on Pacific Coast Highway was uncooperative, never allowing anyone in any direction to walk. Eventually the Storm Troopers and Star Trekkies and I made a run for it, and I was soon back to the waterfront and then to the final aid station before hitting Harbor Island again. Soon as my stopwatch struck 1:30 I stopped and walked another quarter mile to home base to stretch and chat and accept an invitation to join a group for breakfast at Perry’s Cafe. There wasn’t a thread of my technical clothing that wasn’t soaked in sweat.

The breakfast bunch included Irene and her husband Michael and I am pretty sure I consumed more calories than I’d just burned on the run. But I wouldn’t want to start my weekend any other way as I headed up the freeway towards home, wondering how someone pulled off this prank, then remembering that just yesterday in my suburb someone robbed a bank and escaped on a skateboard.

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