Anne and Peter think we're wimps. We only walk on the beach when the tide is low, and only when it's not sleeting, and only when a tsunami isn't in the forecast. Anne and Peter run six miles every night no matter what.
It was incredibly windy this evening. Tom and I started out before the sun set. We parked down by Taraval and headed north. Walking was nearly impossible! Of course coming back was a breeze.
But suddenly we realized it was perfectly calm – that the wind had stopped. That's when we ran into Anne running north, with Carmen on her leash.
"Anne, your timing is perfect!" I said. "There were gale force winds when we began." She looked around. All was peaceful. "Oh, really?" she said.
