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”Because I want to jump in the ocean, that’s why”  Over 800 miles all for something seemingly whimsical, irrational? Not at all. I had been feeling it tugging at me for weeks, at first gently, than stronger. You see, there is this little part of me that hardly ever gets to come out. It’s the adventure seeking gypsy part, the part that loves to roam and wants to call no place home.  Every so often it takes hold of me and says ” ok. It’s time. Lets go” But the gypsy me is always fighting with the responsible cautious safe me. The part of me that says ” this is just silly. And totally not worth the while”

This time the cautious me was overruled.

Due to the fact however that I mostly live a responsible grounded life, with a full-time job and such, this adventure had to fit into 2 days.  Some odd 8oo miles, 2 days… sure, totally doable. Even though this one might have to be a solo adventure. Most of my friends, like me, work  full-time and have mostly responsible lives with unfortunately conflicting schedules.   None the less, the yearning to run would finally be satisfied. Even if it was only 2 days.  So with one day of planning and a last minute surprise by a friend, I headed out on my no longer solo adventure.

We drove, and laughed, talked about God. And drove. Ate some wild blackberries we found, napped shotgun, sang. And drove.  Past windmills, bridges, wheat fields, sagebrush, thistles, and bays. We drove.

Before I knew it I was there, I could feel sand under my toes and taste saltwater in the windy air,

and hear the waves crashing in, and get lost in one, and sleep better than I had all week.       I wanted to remember the last time I had been there, and make new footprints in my memory.

We camped on the beach and cooked dinner over on open fire. Between the smell of saltwater and campfire smoke mingling, the sound of the waves on the shore, and good company to share it with, It was exactly what I had craved.

Two days and 800 miles later, I still have sand in my hair and a smile on my face.