Breezes blew in from San Francisco Bay to this sunny upscale town tucked into the hills just north of the Golden Gate Bridge. I looked out over the marina at the masts of the thousands of other sloops, like the one I was staying on. I was thinking about my problem.

A friend of mine put me up here on the boat and it was a good place to be a hermit or socialize depending on my mood.

This morning I was in a social mood. Fortunately, Sausalito has the atmosphere of a college campus. People on the street are very friendly. They say hello and strike up conversations even if they have no idea who you are. They’re willing to discuss problems with you and offer advice or help.

As I drank my double latte at a small round sidewalk table, Bo, a talkative black guy, struck up a conversation.

"Where you from?"

I looked up from my reading and journaling.

"Sarasota, Florida"

"You here for long?"

"Just a couple weeks."

"I’m Bo…What’s your name?"

"Sheri."

"Need any help finding anything in town?" I thought that was a friendly gesture and asked about a photo-developing place, to which I got detailed directions, but I knew I would have to confront my problem sooner or later.

My morning passed quietly running errands, taking pictures, like any good tourist should, of the happy seal statue placed just above the water’s edge along the main road into town, the park framed by its elephant statues and layered garden.

Fit, tan people ran by me as I was photo shooting. I was reminded that running was one of my goals for being here. A long slow run would help me think about what to do, I thought.

I had some things to think out. I knew from experience that only a slow run would help me sort out my problem, ease my edginess and help me find some peace of mind.

Sausalito was perfect for running. Naturally, I chose a flat course, on this second day of my visit, consciously avoiding the 45 degree angled streets aiming up the mountain. (To the residents, it’s probably a hill.)

My choice of trail took me along the coast and marshes. An asphalt bike path was bordered by a verge of sandy soil for the runner who wished to tread less jolting terrain.

Bikers, sharing the course were courteous and encouraging, shouting, "Good for you!" as runners jogged by. People of all ages seem to run here…at all times of day, since the weather is cool and dry.

To soothe my edgy spirit, I donned my running togs and set off for an hour in the late afternoon when the sun was long and golden. I ran in the direction of Mill Valley, a town, slightly north of Sausalito.

But I started in the center of Sausalito, next to its park framed by stone elephant statues and encircling a Renaissance-type fountain. I jogged past quaint shops exhibiting everything from jewelry and chocolate to painted ceramic plates. I needed the time to sift ideas and possibilities, so I didn’t go fast.

Running fast prevents me from thinking…I decided to do an 8:30 or 9 minute pace in order to sort out my particular dilemma and clear my thought.

My objective in coming to Sausalito originally had been to visit an author-artist friend of mine. He was going help me with editing and composing. We had planned on throwing in a game of tennis or a ferry trip to San Francisco.

However, I found upon arrival that he was unavailable.

"You’ll mostly be on your own I’m afraid," he confided. "Cynthia, my new girlfriend, won’t appreciate my spending time with you, plus I have a lot of work to do for clients. I’m on a deadline." He smiled a bit ruefully. "Sorry about that. I didn’t plan it this way. It’s just bad timing."

That first night, he had showed me the boat where I was to sleep, dropped me off and said good-bye.

It had been chilly and dark inside the sloop. I had managed to organize my belongings, figure out the bedding and which cabin I was going to sleep in. By the time I had finished, I was so tired I dropped off…only to be awakened from time to time during the entire night by the annoying squeak of the bowline as the boat swayed back and forth.

So as I began my run, I was fatigued in addition to being confused. All my plans had changed. What would make the most sense? Should I go somewhere else or just stay on the boat and write as I had originally planned?

Glancing to my right, I saw I was passing the marshland on the outskirts of Sausalito. On these soggy flats, creative homeowners had built houseboats perched on pontoons. I was intrigued by the innovation of each of these marsh-squatting houses. Some houseboats had steeply pitched roofs, sun windows and solar panels. Some were dark brown clapboard; others shingle or glass and steel. Each was unique. One even had a seaplane parked behind it. Another had a canoe on davits, dangling under the livingroom. These folks had solved their problems creatively. So could I.

I ran on, enjoying the time to observe and think. Other runners came toward me at a brisk pace. They said hello or waved.

"Very friendly city," I thought again, as I waved back. Maybe this was an answer. Perhaps I needed to recognize that I didn’t have to depend on one person to make my stay welcoming.

The afternoon was hot and dry. I had finished the water in my bottle.

Passing under the highway, I noticed a drinking fountain…just at the right place for thirsty bikers and runners, but out in the middle of nowhere. I greedily drank and continued on.

What to do?

To my right, the marsh continued. Birds with long legs and bills daintily pecked about in the mud. I was way outside city limits now. Ahead a yellow hill sprinkled with homes was Mill Valley.

"I’ll just go on a bit farther," I thought. "Just until I figure out what to do."

My thoughts seemed more at peace, soothed by the natural surroundings and steady pace of my run. It occurred to me that I was a free spirit. I didn’t need to depend on this author friend for all my entertainment and education. Wasn’t this a friendly town? Wasn’t there a lot to see and do? Why couldn’t I see the sights and do my writing and running alone? Not really a big problem when I looked at it in perspective.

My long slow run had performed its magic, as usual, giving me the opportunity to meditate and sort through the issues I needed to deal with.

I decided to stay on the boat, write my articles, read the material I had planned to read and fit in sightseeing in San Francisco as I could. I was content with my re-charted goals for this trip: writing and maintaining my newly found peace of mind.

I turned around at the wooden bridge just before Mill Valley. Now that my problem had been sorted out, I felt like going faster. A muscular man in blue shorts passed me. This was my opportunity to stride out. I sped up, trying to keep up with him.

My trip back to the center of Sausalito was much faster than my outbound journey. I didn’t think much during that portion of the workout. I was busy concentrating on speed.

But it was the long, slow run that had helped me sort out what I needed to do more than a speed workout would have. I now knew where I was headed with this visit. As usual, through a long slow run, I had found peace of mind.

© Copyright 1999 by Sheri Bedford