Running on the beach, wearing shoes, is not very pleasant in terms of the actual running. I guess that’s why, really, you don’t see many people doing it (compared with how many people you actually see running on the busy highway-like streets of Hallandale, on the other side of the buildings). Of course, the view is spectacular, and the experience is formidable, and the sounds are gorgeous, the birds and the waves.
But although you get a terrific workout, physically, it’s really hard. If you run with your shoes on, your heavily-shoed feet (let’s face it, my feet are particularly heavy) spiral deep and hard into the soft beautiful sand, then you have to corkscrew them back out– with each step you take. So you get one heck of a workout.
Running with shoes off is a much more pleasant experience because you land a little softer with each step, and I think that maybe my biggish, widish feet are advantageous in terms of landing with a splat, splaying, if you will, which prevents a dig. The problem is these guys, the Portuguese Man Of War, which are everywhere
They are surprisingly pretty. The first time I saw them was on the same beach last February. I honestly thought they were balloons. There are a number of hotels along the beach, so I figured that someone must have held a kid’s party on the beach. I remember running and being annoyed that they were so sloppy, leaving all that litter behind. I finally stopped and asked a woman about them. She replied, combining broken English with pointing, that I didn’t want to step on one of these babies.
Doing some research, I discovered that there was an invasion of them, enough to make the news, with experts saying they’ve never seen so many.
Running head down barefoot, terrified of missing a step, is stressful….Seeing Jeff’s dopplenganger, though, is what really freaked me out.