I am the person who runs on Riverside Drive with a bouquet of leaves in my hand this time of year. It adds flexibility to my work-out as the leaves are all the way down on the ground. Also makes me stop suddenly and backtrack. And look goofy. Nothing unusual there.
Last week I was at the beach briefly and decided to run back on the sand which is not the most graceful look, but the sky and ocean were steely and the beach was pretty empty and summer was waning, so I needed to get lots of sand in my Nike Frees one last time. The sand near the incoming tide was the firmest so I stayed in those parts. I hadn’t run far when right in my path was a perfect black conch shell. I’ve never scene one in my life, so I picked it up. Gorgeous. I ran on with it. A minute later a smaller also black conch shell, missing half of itself, but still so cool looking, appeared. So I was a two-fisted shellrunner. I kept going, and yes, found THREE more, without veering from my course or even trying. By this time, it was completely ridiculous that I was running with all five in my hands, trying not to smash them to bits against each other or drop them and trample them myself. Nobody seemed to be living in any of them, and I can’t believe I didn’t take a photo of all of them. They are stunningly gorgeous. Or were–the shells could withstand the ocean, but doubt they can handle my young niece and nephews.