On New Year's Eve, after Peter and I and the rest of our neon clad crew including one neon pirate and two little neon Indians, took the spring break-like dance floor at Foxie's on Yost Van Dyke from good to unbelievable with the help of a coconut, and just about ten minutes before the revelers were going to count down till midnight, it started pouring. Pouring. The Pain Killers hadn't penetrated deep enough to lose the crowds sense or getting soaked, so the beach party headed indoors, squeezing under the few covered spaces of the infamous bar, but continuing to pulse and writhe to the island rhythms.
As I headed in, perhaps at a speed much quicker than the rest of my group, I lost them. It was me in a sea of sweat, spilling drinks, and last minute claims on kissing partners. 'Okay, this can't be that hard - everyone is wearing bright neon colors.' I checked my watch - five minutes till midnight. I heated up my search, I pushed my way through the channel of people, onto the dance floor, got coaxed to wiggle a little, the coconut was still there, but no neon. I headed to the perimeter again, the shower had passed as quickly as it came, so I ventured onto the beach. No neon tank-xedos. No neon wigs. Ten. Nine. Eight. (Crap!) Seven. Six. (Tears welling.) Five. Four. Three. Two. One. HAPPY NEW YEAR! I looked around and saw glassy eyed girls galore go to town on their new found New Year's kisses. But I couldn't find mine. Where was Peter? About five minutes later, I heard someone yell, 'Want a drink?' from a tailgating table that a boat crew must have left behind. It was the bigger of the Indians. And behind him, further down on the beach, I found the rest of the neon kids. And Peter. Even though I was ten minutes late, and irrationally crabby, I still got a kiss to start 2012 right.
(That's a neon tank-xedo by the way, lovingly designed for the group by Nash.)
I am a girl of routine. Of schedule. Of premeditated plans. Partial blame goes to heredity, but the remainder is unique to me. I am on a vacation without a schedule though, without the elements that enable my daily routine. There is no Starbucks down the road, there is no easy five mile loop to run, bedtime is much later than 9 PM, getting places doesn't happen by car, but by boat, and cocktail hour starts as soon as you get on board. Needless to say, I have been far removed from the kind of plans that I'm used to for the past three days.
Yesterday though, perhaps when I heard Tom say that we had reached mile 8.2 and an elevation of 1,300 feet on the most epic 16-mile run that I have ever done, I started to realize that some of the amazing things happen outside of their scheduled allotment of time.
For instance, on New Year's Day, I had one goal - make it to mass. I found a church, but couldn't find its mass times. I found a driver, but could he drive on the left side of the road? After waking up at 10:00 AM, and after Peter gained the courage to go Left, Left, Left! I figured high noon was our best shot. We got there and the congregation was just leaving. Peter and I offered up a couple prayers, one for traveler's dispensation, and as we were praying, a local woman said she would get Father Walter for us. Father came out, welcomed us to Saint Mary, Star of the Sea, and said he would give us communion. Right there, Peter and I had our own private mass and a blessing on our marriage. As we left, Peter said, that's what happens when people aren't in such a rush.
Then, yesterday, after pounding up and down the driveway as my solution to running during the beginning of the trip, Tom said I should run the island with Mike and him. We'd leave at 5:45 AM. It would be hot. Hydrate. I accepted the challenge, thinking that we would run up and down the undulating hills that characterize the roads here. Peter drove the runners to the far West Side of the island, and Tom told us the problem - the main road, given its narrow twists and turns and crazy drivers, would be a death trap. So we'll go the back way. The back way included the steepest hills that I have ever seen, let alone run up. We scaled 1,400 feet on the run and took in some of the most breathtaking views. Once on the ridge of Tortola, we ran up and down its more gentle slopes, through a couple down pours, past goats and menacing dogs, by locals incredulous of our audacity, then down again, and Garmined in at 16.5 miles. I had planned for a two-hour, thirteen mile, relatively level run. I got something way different - way more amazing - way sweeter to finish in a sprint to Peter who was waiting for us at the end of the trail with water and the camera.
I am a girl of routine. Of schedule. Of premeditated plans. Partial blame goes to heredity, but the remainder is unique to me. I am on a vacation without a schedule though, without the elements that enable my daily routine. There is no Starbucks down the road, there is no easy five mile loop to run, bedtime is much later than 9 PM, getting places doesn't happen by car, but by boat, and cocktail hour starts as soon as you get on board. Needless to say, I have been far removed from the kind of plans that I'm used to for the past three days.
Yesterday though, perhaps when I heard Tom say that we had reached mile 8.2 and an elevation of 1,300 feet on the most epic 16-mile run that I have ever done, I started to realize that some of the amazing things happen outside of their scheduled allotment of time.
For instance, on New Year's Day, I had one goal - make it to mass. I found a church, but couldn't find its mass times. I found a driver, but could he drive on the left side of the road? After waking up at 10:00 AM, and after Peter gained the courage to go Left, Left, Left! I figured high noon was our best shot. We got there and the congregation was just leaving. Peter and I offered up a couple prayers, one for traveler's dispensation, and as we were praying, a local woman said she would get Father Walter for us. Father came out, welcomed us to Saint Mary, Star of the Sea, and said he would give us communion. Right there, Peter and I had our own private mass and a blessing on our marriage. As we left, Peter said, that's what happens when people aren't in such a rush.
Then, yesterday, after pounding up and down the driveway as my solution to running during the beginning of the trip, Tom said I should run the island with Mike and him. We'd leave at 5:45 AM. It would be hot. Hydrate. I accepted the challenge, thinking that we would run up and down the undulating hills that characterize the roads here. Peter drove the runners to the far West Side of the island, and Tom told us the problem - the main road, given its narrow twists and turns and crazy drivers, would be a death trap. So we'll go the back way. The back way included the steepest hills that I have ever seen, let alone run up. We scaled 1,400 feet on the run and took in some of the most breathtaking views. Once on the ridge of Tortola, we ran up and down its more gentle slopes, through a couple down pours, past goats and menacing dogs, by locals incredulous of our audacity, then down again, and Garmined in at 16.5 miles. I had planned for a two-hour, thirteen mile, relatively level run. I got something way different - way more amazing - way sweeter to finish in a sprint to Peter who was waiting for us at the end of the trail with water and the camera.
By the time I was snorkeling through schools of tropical fish yesterday afternoon without even feeling cramped or sore from the morning's run, I knew that the Tortola schedule was just what I needed to start the year.
Last night, as Peter and I watched the sun go down over the ocean, I got a really special, sober kiss on a bench that left little between us and a cascading cliff leading to the sonorous ocean lit with pink and purple hues from the setting sun. On January 2nd, I knew that 2012 was going to be an amazing year and that we were ringing it in, in the best way possible.
Last night, as Peter and I watched the sun go down over the ocean, I got a really special, sober kiss on a bench that left little between us and a cascading cliff leading to the sonorous ocean lit with pink and purple hues from the setting sun. On January 2nd, I knew that 2012 was going to be an amazing year and that we were ringing it in, in the best way possible.
Lo.
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