Christmas shopping was on the list, but Dec. 10, two weeks before Christmas Eve, the weather was intoxicating after the rains. I found myself playing with God the way I did as a kid. “Hey, God, I’m coming up to Clairemont Drive. I need to buy some gifts for my family, but I’d rather walk at Mission Bay. Give me a sign. If the light turns green now, I could take a right turn on Clairemont Drive and sail down to Mission Bay.”
God gave me the sign and I found myself sitting in a Mission Bay parking place at noon looking at a few runners, walkers and skaters instead of sitting in traffic at Clairemont Square.
With my purse locked in the trunk of the car, I zipped my cell phone in my pocket, stretched for two minutes and headed south on the doublewide sidewalk alongside grass so green I thought I was in Ireland. Rain had worked its miracle a few days before. Mission Bay mudhens or coots kept me company, never fearful, never moving out of the way.
The ficus trees’ roots ran aboveground like arms outstretched. I brushed my hand over the first concrete bench with its inscription below: “Remember how good it was once when we were all together.” I knew the runner/child psychiatrist for whom the bench was dedicated after his untimely death; his family honored him without divulging his name, something he would have appreciated. He ran multiple marathons, and his children and young grandchildren have followed in his footsteps.
Mission Bay Park sparkled more beautifully than an LED-lighted Christmas tree. My memories of this place include doing practice runs for a marathon or two ” 30 pounds ago. Today I was just walking the course around the bay, 8.5 miles, on a day that would rate a 10-plus. No mall madness, no guilt for overspending, no have-tos, just walking in the sunshine.
Making the turn to SeaWorld on the blacktop path with no bike tires nipping at my heels, I continued my journey. Runners would pass and nod; most had wires in their ears, iPods and cell phones. “Hey,” I wanted to yell at them. “I was once you, running, running, training, training. Enjoy the Christmas cookies. Life is short.”
SeaWorld at high noon wasn’t the madness it is at the opening moment when floods of folks pay huge amounts to see the whales, dolphins and ride that controversial Atlantis roller-coaster. Remember the battle over that violation of height restrictions? Going north on Ingraham I was aware of the loud traffic and still grateful for the empty sidewalk. Crossing the two bridges had been a challenge in the past with bikes and runners filling up the small space, but today it was clear sailing for me.
When I turned right onto Crown Point Drive, it was as though I had been given the gift of sight for the first time after a bout with blindness. San Diego’s skyline was so beautiful. To my right was downtown, shimmering in silver and clarity. Straight ahead was the bay, of course, but my head was lifted and my eyes focused on the clearly etched mountains dusted in snow, the campus of USD, the high-rise buildings that house seniors in Clairemont and beauty everywhere. My blood pressure went down faster than SeaWorld’s Atlantis roller-coaster.
I continued on the path at Crown Point Drive and wound my way to busy Grand Avenue, where apartments and small homes showed some signs of wind damage with palm fronds hugging the lawns. Noise level increased. I passed a pit bull sitting inside a fenced yard. We made eye contact and then my eyes shot a look at the open side gate. If dogs can smell fear, this guy must have, but he didn’t race out the gate to have me for lunch. He, too, was enjoying the sunshower.
Mission Bay High fronts Grand Avenue. Physical education classes were returning to campus after exercise at the adjacent Mission Bay Park. Like a salmon upstream, I worked my way on a narrow path fenced off from the baseball field and the Mission Bay golf course. Some kids wore gym clothes, some were in street clothes, but almost all of them had wires in their ears sharing music. I imagined they were listening to songs like “Old Ladies Should Be Shopping Instead of Mission Bay Hip-Hopping Today.”
Silence and sunshine, walking and wandering outdoors were a gift I gave myself and one I wish for you this holiday season. As Erma Bombeck said so well: “Guilt is the gift that keeps on giving.” I took a two-hour break from guilt; it was exhilarating.