Beach Walk
by Teresa
Gauthier
There was no
warning sign posted on the newly updated
ellipticals at my fitness center. In retrospect,
I would probably have ignored it. The software on
the new machines had a virtual reality feature
that allowed me to do hikes in different parts of
the world. One week, I did a hike in Colorado,
and the elevation and resistance changed with the
terrain. I was very surprised by the realism of
the trip. I imagined that I was actually on that
rocky path, looking over the edge into the valley,
thousands of feet below. I only wished the
programmers could have included the sounds and
sensations of the woods. I would have loved to
hear bird songs and the rustling of the pine
trees and to feel the caress of a gentle breeze.
The hikes were
variable times ranging from 19 to about 45
minutes. I monitored my heart rate with the hand
grips and once I got my rhythm, the time passed
quickly.
I was finding
some good escape in my workouts. It was an
opportunity to forget the nagging thoughts that
swirled inside my head about Martin. He hiked for
real every day in his part of the world, and I
took a little pleasure in knowing that I could do
my own hikes, virtually, alone, and successfully
in my own corner.
We had been
dating for several months and things had changed
recently. In the beginning, we had a wonderful
connection and we spent a lot of time marveling
at things we had in common. We both loved nature
and the outdoors, we both had been educators in
our jobs, we each had children and we seemed to
share the same family values and a common faith.
We laughed a lot and I thought he must have a
great sense of humor. We seemed very compatible.
When I think back on those early days, I can see
that while we laughed, it was mostly me using my
comic side to amuse him.
Lately, the
relationship had become strained. After a couple
of months he started sending me text messages
like, “I like your hair the way it is.
Don’t cut it” and “Why
would you say ‘my friend’ and not tell
me the name. That sounds like you are hiding
something” and “You didn’t
send hugs and kisses in your last text. Should I
stop sending them to you as well”.
These messages and the others were irritating and
a little ridiculous, but I didn’t see at the
time, any obvious patterns. I rationalized that
it was partly due to our great distance from each
other. But, in hindsight, these were the first
small cracks in our relationship.
The crack
widened while I was on a short trip to New
Orleans visiting a girlfriend and her husband. It
was a whirlwind trip as we visited old haunts and
looked for vestiges of my life when I lived there
so long ago. We went to Audubon Park, saw a
raucous play at Tulane, spent a day at the zoo,
rode the street car, and went to the newly opened
WWII museum. Between all the activities and the
amazing restaurants where we ate, I didn’t
have much time to update Martin. I sent short
messages and pictures, fully intending to
enthrall him with my escapades when I got back
home. The day I arrived home though, before I
could contact him, he sent me a curt text message,
“Too bad you couldn’t find the time
to talk with me”.
I was taken
aback by this text and I called and asked what he
was thinking. He initially said that he was
worried because New Orleans was not safe,
especially for a single woman. I reassured him
that I had never been at risk and I had never
been alone. That’s when he said, “I bet
you were never alone. Lots of old friends down
there, right? ”
“What do
you mean?” I asked.
“Well,
maybe you have an old friend that you are still
in contact with.”
“An old
friend?”
“Yeah,
someone you still know.”
“Well, I
was visiting Susan and Doug. They are friends.
Did you mean something else?”
“I know
you dated when you lived there.”
“So you
are thinking I might have an old boyfriend?”
“It is
possible.”
“Really?
What would make you think that?
“Claire,
you didn’t communicate with me and tell me
who all your friends were. You were very vague
about your plans. I still don’t know what
you were doing with your time. Remember trust and
communication are two of the pillars of a strong
relationship.”
“So
Martin, you are saying you don’t trust me.”
I felt my voice rising and my ire increasing as
his jealous innuendo sunk in. I was incensed and
I could hardly think. I was incredulous.
I knew I had
never given him any reason to think that I had an
old boyfriend in New Orleans or elsewhere. I hadn’t
lived there for over 30 years and when I did live
there, I was dating the man I would later marry.
In fact, I
hadn’t had any dates in 35 years until 18
months ago. Five years after my husband had
passed away was the first time that I felt like I
was ready to date again.
I had dated
just a few times before I connected with Martin.
We texted online through the dating app before
chatting on the phone. He drove 5 hours to meet
me and we instantly liked each other. I remember
being a little wary initially because he had been
divorced 3 times. But he explained the
circumstances and I accepted his explanation.
We kept it
casual the first couple of times we met, but
after about 2 months we became more serious and
exclusive. When I committed to being exclusive, I
meant it and I had no reason to believe he would
think otherwise. Now after hearing his thoughts,
I felt like I needed to defend my behavior. I was
stunned and hurt. I felt angry and I told him
that I needed to end the conversation.
Shortly after
we disconnected, he sent me a message, “Call
me back.”
I ignored his
text for two days. Finally, I replied to him and
told him that I needed time to think. I was
beginning to see that his messages and his
behavior were controlling and manipulative. This
did not feel like the type of relationship I
wanted. I sought counsel from my closest friend
and she agreed. She voiced concerns that she had
been feeling for some time. She knew that up
until now, I hadn’t been ready to hear
anything negative about this relationship.
So these daily
workouts that I had discovered were an
opportunity for my troubled mind to think and at
the same time, not think. I felt refreshed after
these workouts and my thoughts were clearer and
more objective. Although I was beginning to see
the relationship in a new light that was looking
dim, rather than bright, I felt torn. I was
ambivalent. I wondered if I was exaggerating and
being too negative. I wondered if I was being
unfair.
I knew that I
needed to make a decision about our relationship.
On this particular day, I chose the 45-minute
Marino Beach walk. The shore was quite flat so
the elliptical slope setting was low, but the
resistance was strong enough to simulate walking
on sand. I tried to lower the resistance and was
puzzled because I couldn’t adjust it. I
shrugged, curious. The scenery of the rugged
coast was breathtaking. I was walking towards
distant mountains and the sun was high. Amazingly,
I could hear the sound of the waves crashing on
the beach, rhythmic and soothing. This was
already feeling like a different experience.
I relaxed into
the walk, forgetting all my worries. The sky was
blue and the fluffy clouds seemed to be drifting
by. The sun was beating down on me and I chuckled
to myself, thinking that if I wasn’t careful
I would get a sunburn. I felt invigorated. There
were a few people on the beach but as I
approached them, they disappeared, as in all the
former programs. There was an elevated lifeguard
chair but it was empty. I was alone. The tide was
low and the beach was wide, with white sand and
tiny shells. There seemed to be some beach houses
in the distance, but nothing close to the walking
area.
The resistance
of the machine became harder as the walk
progressed and my heart rate increased. My calves
were straining, as I pressed down on the paddles.
I was able to maintain a steady pace, but it
became increasingly difficult. I noticed that I
had been slogging for 25 minutes.
I became aware
of the screech of seagulls and realized that this
must be part of the workout program. Then I felt
something gritty and irritating in my shoes.
“Huh”, I thought as I looked down at
the foot paddles. I stopped and stared. My feet
were sinking in sand; the foot paddles from the
elliptical were gone. I found myself on the beach,
hot and sweaty. I was panting with the effort and
I felt, rather than knew, that my heart was
racing as there were no longer any hand grips.
The information screen was gone and I couldn’t
figure out what was happening. From my watch, I
estimated that I had 15 minutes left in the
program.
The waves
lapped against my shoes and I retreated up the
beach. I kept on walking, marveling at the
reality of this program that made me feel like I
really was trudging on the sand. I wasn’t
worried yet, just surprised and a little
perplexed. My senses felt heightened.
I noticed that
the clouds had changed; the fluffy whites had now
turned gray and looked thunderous. The breeze was
stronger and the waves were now reaching for my
ankles. My shoes were getting wet. I moved still
farther up the beach and I suddenly noticed how
much narrower the strip of sand had become.
Unbelievably, the tide seemed to be coming in,
and fast. I tried to pick up my pace but the sand
was wet and I kept sinking.
There were now
10 minutes remaining. With growing recognition
and terror, I realized that I needed to finish
the program if it still was a program before the
tide came in. The waves were crashing and if they
came much closer they would knock me down. The
breeze had become a wind, and I was bent into it,
straining to pull my left, then my right foot up
out of the sand, up and out, up and out.
Five minutes to go and the remaining beach was
now just a strip. I could see the end of the
beach but somehow it never seemed to get closer.
My heart had never beat as hard, and sweat was
dripping down my face and neck. I panted,
fighting off panic. I paused momentarily to catch
my breath. I repeated to myself, “It’s
okay. I can make it ” over and over. There
were four more minutes. I couldn’t allow
myself to think about what would happen when the
time was up.
I struggled on,
looking ahead at the distant cliffs, afraid to
look down at the water that now encircled my
calves with each wave surge, seeming to want to
drag me down. My shoes were soaked and I could
taste the salt water spray. Two minutes now and
it seemed like forever. The sand beneath me gave
way as the waves created a well. Waves were
crashing, pushing me, forcing me into the sea. I
struggled to stay upright.
Twenty seconds
and no end in sight. The sky was black and my
glasses were so misty now that I could not see.
Suddenly the beach gave way as a heavy wave
grabbed my legs and pulled me down. I felt myself
falling into the swirling waters, churning
helplessly, arms flailing, reaching for what I
hoped was up.
My hands made
contact with a wood floater above my head and I
grabbed it, hauling myself up. Suddenly I found
myself grasping the hand grips of the elliptical
as my feet thudded down on the foot paddles. Hair
was dripping in my eyes. The screen in front of
me read, “Program ended. Begin cool down”.
Shaking and
feeling tearful, I sighed with relief. I
continued to walk on the elliptical letting my
heart rate ease. I glanced around at the other
people on other machines. No one was paying
attention to me or seemed to have noticed my
distress. I shook my head in disbelief. My
clothes were surprisingly dry and my glasses were
clean. I thought, “I must have had a
dream. How odd”. I was perturbed and
yet I felt strangely exhilarated. I was quite
exhausted and I felt like I had fought a battle
but at the same time, I felt like I had won an
Olympic gold medal. I had never experienced
anything like this before. Was it a “wake
dream” or had I just had some weird out-of-body
experience? Was the universe trying to tell me
something? I kept thinking, “What was
the reason?”
Sweating from
the exertion of the exercise, I toweled off.
After a long cooldown, I stopped walking, feeling
puzzled, but calm. At the same time, I felt a
little giddy and I wanted to shout out, “I
made it! I made it!”
My legs felt
very wobbly and my running shoes squeaked as I
got off the elliptical. I suspected I would be
very sore later. Eager to get out into the fresh
air, I walked down the stairs and headed out the
door, shoes squeaking through the lobby. I felt
eyes on me and I heard one of the staff at the
front desk mutter, “What the heck, better
call janitorial…”. I looked behind me
at a puddle of water.
When I got to my car, I took a long sip from my
water bottle. Then I took my shoes off, removed
my wet socks, and brushed away the sand that was
stuck between my toes. I rubbed my still-damp
curls. The reason was now clear. I drove slowly
home.
******
My email to
Martin was as kind as I could make it. I told him
that we had come to the end of our program. I
wished him well. Then I closed my eyes. I
envisioned myself back on the elliptical choosing
that beach walk, pushing the paddles up and down,
with force to simulate strolling along a wide
beach. This time the waves wouldn’t threaten
me, grab me, or try to drown me. I released my
breath with a sigh as I closed the lid on my
laptop.
Beach
Walk by Teresa Gauthier
Copyright October, 2023- All Rights Reserved
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