Dan's Papers - August 24, 2007 -

One of the perks of working just a few blocks from one of the most beautiful coastlines in the world is the occasional beach run break. Day was becoming dusk at the mysterious Dan's Papers office when famed "Twentysomething" writer David Lion Rattiner suggested such a break. I hadn't expected the offer - certainly not at the evening hour during which he brought it up - but I found it hard to resist quality exercise in lieu of office air conditioning on such a pleasant eve. Still, I had my reservations - my exercise usually consists of street running, pool swimming and personal training sessions at GymHampton - a makeshift sort of athleticism, not the rugged outdoors of the beach.

"I don't have shoes," I said, looking down at my blue Sperry Topsiders.

"You don't need them, we're running on the sand."

I hesitated. I was pretty pleased with how I looked that day - Hamptons chic, I must say, in a Ralph Lauren oxford and vintage-looking (and overpriced) khaki shorts that the saleswoman at the Greenwich Village Marc Jacobs had talked me into.

"The sand? I usually run along the beach, but on route 27! The sand is tough."

"We'll run where it's wet and compact. Let's go."

I weighed my options and decided I could never live with myself if I turned down a beach break to preserve the cleanliness of my shorts.

Arriving a few minutes later at Ocean Road Beach in Bridgehampton, I took a look towards the wet, sandy coastline that would soon be my physical adversary. I didn't see much, because as the overcast day became evening, a dense fog had settled over the beach. But Mr. Rattiner's feet literally hit the ground running and I shrugged my shoulders and followed suit.

I put in the little white iPod earbuds and turned up the melodious melancholy of TV On The Radio, critically-acclaimed indie favorite of NYU students everywhere, and placed foot after foot on the compact sand as the water lapped at my feet. Running in the misty air, it hit me that this was far superior to a concrete street. Accompanying the adrenaline rush of any good run was a certain quality of authenticity. While normally I have to immerse myself in my music to avoid thinking about the burning pains in my legs and feet, I felt more in sync with nature as I ran through the fog and the shallow water. Running barefoot on sand burned in the legs, as it's supposed to, but felt somewhat soothing on my feet, opposed to the banging of Nikes against pavement.

And then I stopped seeing beachgoers and almost anything except for David in front of me and I couldn't help but question if he knew where he was going. My neurotic mind began to wander. If it gets too dark, can we see our way back in this fog? Is he calculating how far we've gone (because I certainly haven't)? But I continued to run, sweat lapping at my eyes. But just as I was repeating, "Wolf Like Me," for another round, David signaled to circle. Relief.

Shortly after turning back, I realized that another advantage to beach running is that it's pretty straightforward - you stay in a straight line. It was on this return line that I saw David start to move inwards onto the softer sand (much more difficult to run on) and as I followed, I realized that he was swerving to give a brief pat on the hand to a man in a beach chair, who just happened to be Dan Rattiner, Editor-in-Chief and Publisher of this very paper. Other families were running around in the area as well, enjoying the beach, even in the dense fog of the evening.

As we got back to our starting point and did pushups on the sand, I noticed that my oxford was stained with sweat and the trendy Marc Jacobs shorts were caked in sand and ocean water. But I didn't really care, because running on the beach is more challenging to your body than concrete and yes, pleasant. But most importantly, it's a reminder of why it's actually good to live out here - not for the large great rooms with blasting AC or for the chance to sport your short shorts, but for the natural authenticity of the coastline and the ability to run alongside it. Oh, look at that, a life lesson learned in just a brief jog, but I spared you the metaphor of seeing through the fog.