November 1, 2007 Word count: 1706

My first excerpt. It won't make any sense, 'cause it's an excerpt, but I feel like I have to start somewhere...

I padded into the kitchen and stared at the clock on the coffee pot. 7:05 am. I could do this. I poured a cup of hot coffee and walked out onto the deck overlooking the dunes and the Atlantic beyond them. The sun was just coming up over the water, sending jewel drops of sunlight dancing across the waves. I looked down toward Ocracoke Inlet and saw a flock of pelicans gliding across the tops of the dunes, moving as one organism – up, down, flap, soar. What a strange and beautiful bird the pelican is. So ungainly on land, with is too-large beak and feet, but so graceful in the air.

As I drank my coffee, I laced up my running shoes. Running on the beach had always been a source of great comfort and healing for me, and I had a feeling I would need it today. Too many memories were flooding into my head – memories of love and loss; of celebration and grief. How on earth would I get through this month again? Every year I pray it will just go by quickly, and every year it does, but on the first day I can’t believe that. I think this month will go on forever and the pain will go on forever, too.

Running helps ease the mental pain, I suppose because it causes so much physical pain. As I walk down the boardwalk that crosses the dunes, I stop and stretch and look to the north, toward the lighthouse. It is a little toothpick in the distance, but I can see it. A light that guides so many ships has guided me here, to this little island in the Atlantic, to the salt water that has healing power in it, to a community where 6 months out of the year I can be almost completely alone. I begin to run toward the lighthouse, my feet feeling awkward and hesitant at first. As I pick up the pace, I feel the familiar surge of endorphins and the tightening effect it has on my nipples and groin. This is why I run. I run for the memory of the effect that Charlie once had on me.