Being French, and married to a Francophile, I wanted to go to France this summer, so here I am, in the middle of June, in my beloved Brittany. When I last came here a year ago, my vision was much better than it is now. I have to guess, to remember, it is a little daunting to realize how little I can see now and Im shocked.
The beautiful thing in June is that the beach of my childhood is usually totally empty. It is strange to walk in those memories. I used to be able to run alone, over and over, I miss those days. I remain silent, but my wife seems to read my mind, she says:
“You know Charles, it’s just us on this beach right now, I don’t see why you couldn’t go for a run if you’d like.”
I smile, it sounds like a silly idea at first, but I really want to go for it. There is an animalistic energy inside me dying to burst.
I let go of her hand, start to speed walk, I gradually become more confident, I follow the water, it’s heaven.
I run, I can hear her cheer in the background between the waves, I want to cry.
The cold water is splashing everywhere, I’m running a 6 minute pace, I feel like a champion.
For a few minutes I can be a child, I can almost see.