We packed the bikes and drove to the beach this morning—just Anthony and me.
The plan was simple: ten miles. Five before lunch, five after.
We biked along the path, ocean to one side, summer sun above us. Five miles came and went. We stopped for lunch, sitting outside, breathing in the salt air.
Afterward, I felt it.
Tired.
Not just a little. Enough that for a few minutes, I thought about calling it there.
So we sat for a while instead.
In the little plaza across from the dunes, Anthony had ice cream. We watched the ocean in the distance. I wondered if stopping was the right call—and if it even mattered.
And then, somehow, we got back up.
Climbed onto the bikes.
Kept going.
Another seven miles.
Through the trees, along the coast, through little stretches of open sun and cool shade.
It wasn’t the day I had planned—it was better.
A day full of sun, bikes, ocean, ice cream… and the small decision to keep moving when it would’ve been easy to stop.
A day I’ll remember.
Maybe Anthony will too.
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