The other day I went for a run, and ended up at a Golden Gate Bridge outlook. (Which I like to say is more or less in my backyard.) I jogged up the path, to the end, where the trail met a drop off to the bay. I looked around. Other than the iconic red bridge there with me, I was alone.
THANK GOD because after running up the coastal trail my quads were screaming, and all I really wanted was to drop in a ball under the nearby bench.
Minor breakdown.
After however, I managed to crawl up a cement wall encasing a garden of roses, and began stretching. The bridge was facing me in the distance, holding up the rush hour traffic driving in and out of San Francisco. The sun was slowly setting into the the fog, which was in return swallowing the city. A cool Indian Summer breeze hit my face- one of those breezes that smacks you in the face and it's like your whole life makes sense for 5 seconds.
Minor breakdown.
After however, I managed to crawl up a cement wall encasing a garden of roses, and began stretching. The bridge was facing me in the distance, holding up the rush hour traffic driving in and out of San Francisco. The sun was slowly setting into the the fog, which was in return swallowing the city. A cool Indian Summer breeze hit my face- one of those breezes that smacks you in the face and it's like your whole life makes sense for 5 seconds.
I heard a pair of shuffling feet behind me, climbing up the trail. "Great I thought. Sit up, breathe normal, at least try and look like half an athlete..." It was a man, with a big backpack, and a camera. A tourist in its' natural habitat.
He snapped photos of the bridge.
With every shutter of the camera, chills ran up my spine. I love watching people do their craft- drawing, painting, dancing, reading, eating (jk, but really); it's so inspiring to see someone's voice through their work without a word being said.
With every shutter of the camera, chills ran up my spine. I love watching people do their craft- drawing, painting, dancing, reading, eating (jk, but really); it's so inspiring to see someone's voice through their work without a word being said.
He turned and said something to me, but I didn't understand. I did that thing where you nod your head and laugh awkwardly...to the point where you have to stop yourself because its so awkward. He kind of nodded back, and walked away, probably questioning my sanity/ignorance/exhausted persona.
But, he came back.
In a thick accent he said, "Miss, excuse me, don't be scared."
(ok bud thats the first childhood safety lesson: it's what kidnappers say right after they offer the candy)
I sat there, unable to flee as the lactic acid build up in the lower half of my body was unstoppable, so I nodded politely and waited. He went on to ask if he could take some pictures of my back facing the bridge. Nothing major.
I didn't have to move, and more importantly, the camera didn't have to see my face. So I said sho! (In that exact way because I don't know how to speak like a normal person)
(ok bud thats the first childhood safety lesson: it's what kidnappers say right after they offer the candy)
I sat there, unable to flee as the lactic acid build up in the lower half of my body was unstoppable, so I nodded politely and waited. He went on to ask if he could take some pictures of my back facing the bridge. Nothing major.
I didn't have to move, and more importantly, the camera didn't have to see my face. So I said sho! (In that exact way because I don't know how to speak like a normal person)
He took some photos and we chatted. Visiting form Argentina, he had seen the city (loved it), and was leaving the next day.
Honestly, it was all small talk- the people, the traffic, the bars. He asked me out for a drink, but I politely declined. (lol at not being 21). We parted ways, he headed further down the trail and continued photographing the bridge that seemed to hold tight everything San Francisco had to offer in its steel structure, as I turned and jogged back home to the Inner Richmond.
Honestly, it was all small talk- the people, the traffic, the bars. He asked me out for a drink, but I politely declined. (lol at not being 21). We parted ways, he headed further down the trail and continued photographing the bridge that seemed to hold tight everything San Francisco had to offer in its steel structure, as I turned and jogged back home to the Inner Richmond.
But, I don't know, running back down the trail I had not so gracefully climbed up, I became overwhelmingly inspired.
There was something about being there in that moment that made me realize we all have something. We all have something that defines us, and whether or not we have found it is up to our journey.
Each person driving across the Golden Gate Bridge had a destination. He had traveled all the way from Argentina to take photos of San Francisco. I had just run 4 miles of straight incline. But why?
There was something about being there in that moment that made me realize we all have something. We all have something that defines us, and whether or not we have found it is up to our journey.
Each person driving across the Golden Gate Bridge had a destination. He had traveled all the way from Argentina to take photos of San Francisco. I had just run 4 miles of straight incline. But why?
Because we all have an interesting story to tell.
