My dogs and I are now officially part of the regulars who frequent the beach walk — we have joined a coastal culture of people who hoof-it rain or shine. We don’t actually have a choice – the dog’s biffy is out the door, up the stairs and down the street. Although a bit inconvenient this isn’t necessarily a bad thing – I’ve been getting my exercise this past six months – three times a day times two dogs. I have become something of a walking Wonder Woman.
From our vantage in the parking lot beside the promenade we have determined that the time of day generally dictates the type of walker we will run into. Early morning brings out the serious sorts, the fast paced and focused. The lunchtime group is laid back, more intent on the view and the company they’re keeping – they are the saunterers. The evening walkers are the dedicated dog owners making a last run outside before bedtime.
The morning crowd doesn’t waste time chatting – they nod an acknowledgement or smile (if it’s sunny). Time is of the essence with this group – the mist of calories being burnt sprays from the heels of their well worn sneakers. Midday brings out a friendlier sort – older people sporting new running shoes and good intentions. Lattes in hand – they’re the window shoppers. The late night walkers, the dedicated dog owners, are generally on a mission – they are focused on Fido and hoping he does his business within the glow of a street light.
The dogs and I pride ourselves in being able to read a room – we have made a new friend or two in each group. We are courteous in the morning, obliging in the afternoon and efficient at night – we have infiltrated the ranks without incident. We have become part of the beach culture, regulars fitting into the crowd.