Dude, you stink.

As I have mentioned before, the track at the Y is elevated and looks down on a large gymnasium and an activity room. I run during lunch and there are always a couple of basketball games happening in the gym. The games are loud and competitive. I would estimate the player's ages range from late teens to early eighties. While I occasionally see a new face, mostly it's the same crowd. It's popular enough that they can run two games of five-on-five and still have six to ten people waiting for a chance to take over when someone needs a rest.

There's one fellow in particular who sometimes comes up to the track when he's between games. He doesn't come up to exercise, I've never seen him complete a lap. Instead, he comes for the improved vantage point and stands along the track and watches the games. I know now, when I see him, to be ready to run around him. I also know to hold my breath.

I remember the first time I saw him on the track. Balding, with a bit of gray hair neatly trimmed around the ears. With his barrel chest and ample midsection I could imagine him in a three piece suit leading a small company. He had an executive air about him. Then I ran past him and found the air almost unbreathable.

Yes he had been playing basketball and yes he was sweaty. But there are sweaty people on the track all the time and they don't smell this strong. It took me a couple of laps to confirm that he was the source. (And, yes, I did do a quick self-sniff along the far side of the track.) After that, I began taking a deep breath upon approach, holding it and then slowly exhaling once past him. I don't know if this technique is beneficial to a workout or not but it was better than the alternative.

I'd like to say that this was a one time experience but that would be lying. I gave him the benefit of the doubt the second time he appeared and was once again treated to his malodorous stench. Now, when I see him, I automatically hold my breath.

I was in the locker room dressing one day and I overheard some of the basketball guys chatting about washing their gym clothes. Apparently, a number of them keep everything in a gym bag in their car and seldom launder them. I find this pretty gross. Once I take off my gym clothes, I can barely stand to touch them again, let alone wear them.

I don't know if my smelly friend was part of the conversation. I couldn't see the guys that were talking - that would have required peering around the lockers and I'm not a fan of peering in locker rooms.

Ocean

The boys had last week off from school and we spent some time in San Diego. For N, this was his first time seeing the ocean in person. B had last seen the ocean when he was two. He had no recollection of the event. My memory is that he was much more interested in the sandy beach than the vast blue expanse or the rhythmic waves.

I was excited to introduce the boys to the ocean. I didn't meet it until I was an adult and I immediately fell in love. It relaxes me. If I stop to think about it as I stand on the shore, I'll notice that my breathing has synchronized with the waves. It is one of those times when nature steps up and inserts itself into my life, forcing me to feel its presence. As the water surges and retreats along the beach, I hear its advice, "Breathe, just breathe." The ocean is old, ancient even, and vast. Surely, it must also be wise. As I stand there, I heed its advice and I just breathe and try to think of nothing else.

I think the boys liked the ocean although I think their perception was different from my own. Maybe kids are just less in need of relaxation. They did not see the gentle nurturing giant I did. To them, the ocean is more monster than mother. It is mystery and danger: rip tides and sharks, sunken pirate ships and deserted islands. Part of the thrill was wading out into the water and touching the beast. A different experience from mine but enjoyable, nonetheless. Maybe part of the ocean's magic is that it is vast and complex enough to satisfy a variety of needs.

Now, we're home again. Far from the coast. As we settle back into the routines of work and school, I remember the sound of the crashing waves and try to remain relaxed. Breathe, just breathe. A couple of nights ago, we had our first thunderstorm of the year. I stepped out on our back porch and watched and listened to the driving rain. I realized that even here at home nature can find a way to touch me.