It's Not Enough

I woke up at 1:15p today, ate breakfast, took a shower, gathered up some things into my backpack and biked away. In the backpack: Two disc golf discs; a beach towel; a pair of swim trunks; and Joseph Heller's 'Catch-22.'

I rode to Bay Court Park, chained up my bike, and played a round of disc golf. I birdied every par 4 and parred the two par 3s, for a -7 game, tying my all-time best at Bay Court.

Then I went to the 'club house,' changed into my bathing suit, and went down to the beach. I spread out my beach towel on the hard sand and, setting my head atop the backpack, lay sun bathing, reading my book.

A chapter later I decided to try the water. I walked slowly out into the lake, carefully letting the cold water climb up my legs. The water line at my thighs felt frigid and slightly painful. I left it at that and returned to my beach towel.

This time I laid face down, sunning my back, the book closed at my side. Ten or fifteen minutes passed in warm relaxation, with the sounds of the beach and her other visitor's bright in my ears. Finally I sat up. "Bored now," I quoted Willow Rosenberg as I rose to my knees resolving to give the next chapter a try. It was no good. I'd already filled my beach-reading quota, I guess. And I prepared to leave.

But I was loath to go without swimming the lake. This time I ran into the water unhesitatingly, lifting my knees high to maintain momentum until I found the water deep enough. When it was I dove in and under, thrusting forward, rolling over and coming up with my chest skyward. The water wasn't cold. I swam for a few minutes before returning to shore, toweling off, gathering my things, and moving to the platform at the bottom of the stairs. There I wiped the sand from my feet, put my socks, shoes, and shirt back on, reordered my items in the backpack, and made to leave.

As I passed I paused again at the 'club house' for a drink of water from the fountain. Then I walked to my bike, unchained it and rode out. On the ride in I had noticed some tents set up in front of Boomer's bikers' shop, resting in the shadow of a large tie-dye banner that said something about "peace." I had wanted to give it further investigation on my ride home, but traveling in the opposite direction I didn't notice it. So I forgot it.

I arrived home unceremoniously, put my bike away in the shed and came into the basement by the sliding door I'd left open when I left. The clock said it was now after 5p. I started my computer, opened Firefox, and went to There I typed up a painfully detailed chronology of these few hours' events.

By the time I finished it was nearly 6p. I had the feeling I had wasted someone's time.


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