July 4, 2013

Running in Plum Island, Massachusetts on the fourth of July was a series of gifts. The first being that my friend Lia had connected me with a charming beach house to stay in. I woke up happy to be in a new place which, thanks to a friend, also felt like home. That day was also hot and sticky so I hit the roads by 8 a.m. I let the heat and colors soak in, feeling like a small figure in a landscape painting. The bright blues of the sky and Atlantic Ocean wrapped around the brilliant greens of the island marshes. I was in an idyllic setting in Massachusetts on our country’s birthday, awake with gratitude.

I ran down the main island road as cars packed with fireworks, hot dogs and beer whizzed by. The whole island was jazzed for the day’s celebration; I was just happy to be there. Then I hopped onto the gravel streets of beach houses. American flags flapped in the breeze waving me to the beach. At the beach I thought about how much brighter the colors of the East Coast felt than the West Coast, or maybe it was just my Seattle West Coast. Everything seemed more amped up: the heat, the humidity, the people energized for the evening festivities. I kept running, letting it all soak in.

I spent the balmy evening on the deck with Lia’s brother-in-law and his partner. They grilled burgers and made the tastiest Dark n’ Stormys before we kicked back and shared our stories of my travels and their life in Boston. A few houses over, “Get Lucky” blasted from the roof as teenagers shot off fireworks. In those moments of lights zipping across the sky I looked back to the inlet piecing together how I’d gotten there. I’d had the opportunity to meet wonderful new people (who happened to be great cooks!), explore a completely different coast, soak up the sun and run. “Get Lucky” is an overplayed song but I still love it. I’ve danced to it at weddings and goofing around with friends but I’ll always remember sitting outside that 4^th of July on Plum Island, amazed that with all the interruptions and hiccups, efforts and fails, sometimes in a perfect serendipity of travel and friends, we do get lucky.