Today I saw a perfect blue sky, the brown shadow of branches across the orange track. Where the track was warmed by the sun, it smelled of the the beach: aired-out, sun-dried seaweed. As I rounded the shady straightaway to the shadowed corner, I closed my eyes to take a deep breath as the taste of the air turned from cool, damp wood to the salty, sun-warmed sea smell. It wholly occupies my mind for each of the twelve laps I make around the track.
18 February 2009
Today I saw a perfect blue sky, the brown shadow of branches across the orange track. Where the track was warmed by the sun, it smelled of the the beach: aired-out, sun-dried seaweed. As I rounded the shady straightaway to the shadowed corner, I closed my eyes to take a deep breath as the taste of the air turned from cool, damp wood to the salty, sun-warmed sea smell. It wholly occupies my mind for each of the twelve laps I make around the track.