1PassionThe Best Fuel Out There, Other Than Chocolate
When I was little, my family made pilgrimages from our low-slung home in the San Fernando Valley to a seafood shack in Malibu that was the highlight of my week. I loved this place because they fed you unlimited free peanuts while you were waiting for a table, and you could throw the shells on the floor. Reveling in behavior that would have been deviant elsewhere, I stomped on the discarded peanut shells with my feet while we were waiting. After being seated, I proudly ordered a heaping bread bowl of fresh clam chowder even though it was only 10 a.m., and clams don’t come from the ocean in Malibu.
Afterwards, I ran down to the beach and played in a storm drain, which I lovingly called “the river.” I spent many happy hours playing there, building sandcastles in the runoff that led to the sea. The beach was adjacent to a deafening highway, and I was literally frolicking in sewage—but I didn’t care; we were at the ocean! The salt in the air lent it a wild quality, and the sun always seemed a touch brighter there. Every time we crested the hill overlooking the sea on the drive to Malibu a huge grin spread across my face. Such was the magic of the ocean to me.
Twenty years later, I crested a hill to a different part of the Pacific. That same smile overtook my face when I caught a glimpse of the deep blue expanse. I was exhausted from middle-of-the-night ...
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