Sand on my Feet

by typehere

beach house

“This doesn’t feel like home. This will never be my home”

I always say that to myself ever since this new town became my new place to live in.  I thought I could adjust easily to this place without getting pissed with the sand on the morning breeze, the salty smell of the sea on my clothes and the little grains inside my shoes that makes walking harder than ever.  I have never been so wrong.

The beach is good, and the thought of living across the sea has come up in the minds of most people I know.  Living by the sea is like having a feast of nature’s natural beauty every morning.  I don’t believe in that anymore.

Aside from the beautiful yet disgusting effects of the sea in my everyday routine, there’s no ladies basketball on this edge of the country.  I don’t think they have heard a little about WNBA or how a lot of people are fighting for feminism, sexism or gender equality rights.  I just can’t believe that how much I searched this place, I couldn’t see basketball players, let alone a court to start off.

So I set out to get my own little court done.  I got all the supplies I need. The ring was a little tricky to find.  Fortunately, I succeeded in building a ring on the cemented part of our beach house.  Now it’s not just volleyball nets and Frisbee, someone could take a look at me doing crossovers, hook shots, and exhibitions all the day.

So I played around with it first thing in the morning.  Some of our guests in the beach house joined in for a while.  Maybe it was just the lack of practice and exercise that I ended up getting tired and it wasn’t even an hour of playing yet.

I looked out on the shore and decided to take a run after a couple of minutes rest.  The shore isn’t that crowded as I started to kick some sand and ran near the water line.  The long stretch of sand almost disappeared from my sight.  It was like I was running towards the horizon.

I was dragging myself to run because it was the sand.  It wasn’t as light as it looks when cheesy romantic couples run towards each other.  It was far more than that. I could feel how slow I was compared to running on a pavement or a treadmill.

I looked as pitiful as I ran towards the end of nowhere until I remembered the trick on running on the sand. I started putting a little kick whenever I lunge myself forward.  It does the trick, but I kept on tumbling down when I try to do some foot plays.

The extra kicks weren’t enough but as soon as I got back on my little court, I feel lighter.  I could jump higher. I never thought a grueling run in the sand would improve me as fast as this.

Now I realized, the beach wasn’t that bad at all.

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