1.5 Hours to Myself: A Run to the Ocean

After-school programs are in full force this week, which means I get a little extra me-time a few days a week.

1.5 hours might sound like nothing, but having to pick up your kids at 2:30 p.m. versus 4:00 p.m. feels VERY different. Instead of rushing to get things done, I suddenly have time to actually enjoy a hot cup of coffee in the morning or get in a full workout at the gym.

This week, I decided to try something a little different with that extra time.

Monday morning came, I put on my workout clothes. After dropping the kids off at school, I ran straight to the beach. 

As I mentioned in one of my other posts, we live about 3 miles from the ocean. To get there, I have 2 choices, I can run through the residential area, which has plenty of ups and downs, or I can run along the creek that leads to the ocean, which is mostly flat.

I choose the creek side every single time.

There's one small part of the route that I don't particularly like: the Lincoln Boulevard bridge. It's a small bridge over Ballona Creek between Jefferson Blvd. and Culver Blvd. It's really short, but the problem is that it doesn't have a proper pedestrian or bike way. You need to walk on the very far sides of the bridge when crossing, and to be honest, it doesn't feel too safe or pleasant.

Nonetheless, I still prefer to run by the water.

There's something about running along the creek that makes me happy. I love watching the sunlight scatter across the surface of the water, pelicans diving in to catch fish, and wildflowers blooming along the path.

Well, of course, somewhere deep down, there's also a possibility that I just want to avoid running up and down the hills.

I hadn't gone on a long-distance run in a while, so I was running at a pace of a turtle. But just being out there, running toward the ocean, felt so liberating.

I felt like I was doing myself a favor.

It felt GREAT.

I was sweating like a pig and completely out of breath, but the moment I finally reached the beach, the sense of achievement was everything. My legs, however, were not exactly happy. They felt like Jell-O, and I seriously debated whether I should call my husband to come pick me up from the beach.

But seeing so many other people running and riding bikes around me somehow gave me the strength to push myself a little harder. And somehow, I made it all the way back home after another hour or so. 😂

And it was worth it.

Every drop of sweat.

I felt good. I felt proud.

It brought back a lot of feelings that I didn't even realize I had forgotten.

For a little while, I wasn't somebody's mom, somebody's wife, or somebody's daughter.

I was just me.

Myself.

I think I’ll make it a point to find a little more often me this year.

A little update: I kept running this same route for a couple more weeks after writing this post... until something happened that made me stop completely. My 1.5 hours to myself looks a little different now. I shared the whole (slightly crazy) update in 1.5 Hours to Myself: Well, There Goes My Beach Run.