One fine day

God sometimes has a funny sense of humor. On the day that New York and Boston got hit with record-setting snowfall, I sat at the beach basking in the 86 degree heat. Here in southern California, it was pretty much a perfect day.

Actually, I take that back for two reasons. One, I stopped using the term, "perfect day" years ago when I realized that it was yet another jinx: every time I thought I had one, something disasterous would happen to ruin it. My first "perfect day" was in college, the last Friday in March of my senior year, when a gloriously sunny and optomistic day ended with the news of my grandmother's fatal heart attack. The next was two years after college, when I arrived home from an exhilarating run through the early fall foliage in Central Park to have Kris tell me she was moving out to save money for law school. The last time I allowed myself to consider a day perfect was September 11, 2001. That morning, you may recall from the photos, was sunny and clear, temperatures were summerlike in the 70's. I walked to work still drunk from the Fashion Week party I attended the night before, high on the excitement of my own self-importance and the fact that I was wearing a "skinny outfit" that day. At 25, I had the world at my fingertips. Little did I know how much that world would change in less than an hour, so far from the perfect day.

The second reason I can't consider today perfect was because apparently everyone in LA went to bask in the same beach sun, and traffic was backed up for blocks as cars and pedestrians fought a slow race to be by the sea. It took me 20 minutes to make my way from the 4th street exit to Ocean (only 4 blocks) and then at least another 20 to get to my favorite lot, away from the Pier. Usually when I go down to the beach to run, I'll park by a meter or a short term lot, which charges $1/hour, two hours max. But this time, my lot was packed, as were all the metered spots as far as I could see. By the time I got out, navigated my way through traffic again, and turned around, I decided to just park in the $6 all-day lot, for fear the sun would be setting before I ever got to enjoy it.

As it turned out, I wished I had planned for more than a run - it was warm enough to spend time at the shore doing more than just exercising. The sand was packed with volleyball players, sunbathers, even swimmers. The bike and pedestrian paths bustled with riders, rollerbladers, runners, and walkers. Among the bike riders were Governator Arnold Schwarzenegger and wife Maria Shriver, out among the commoners, who leisurely pedaled by me no doubt enjoying the near-perfect day.