Is anyone out there able to gracefully and effortlessly defy the laws of gravity (and weight distribution on a semi-solid surface) by scampering around the beach without sinking? I grew up being brainwashed (in more ways than one) by the Baywatch gang, who seemed to do just that.
I've heard that people who routinely run on the beach (i.e. lifeguards, wild horses, crazy Californians) have amazing strength and stamina. It makes sense - you're walking on an ever-shifting surface. Your core needs to constantly compensate for the changes in your steps. Your quads and hamstrings and calves are engaged in a fashion normally reserved for a StairMaster or the high incline setting on the treadmill.
At least that's the way it is for us curvy girls. I think it has something to do with PSI - pounds per square inch. Ladies, if you look down, you'll notice that, size-wise, your feet are on par with the majority of other women. However, our bodies vary greatly. You could have two people with size 8 feet, and one of them wears a size 2 dress and the other's a size 20.
That's a big difference in the amount of pressure your tootsies have to take - and attempt to distribute across a freakin' beach. They really need to invent snowshoes for beach-goers.
What makes the constant stepping and sinking even worse? You know where I'm going with this - super-heated sand. There is a very small window at the beginning and end of the day where the sand is at a bearable temperature; the rest of the time, it gladly absorbs as much heat as it can, and it just sits there, lying in wait like some creepo with a sadistic foot fetish.
What an exercise in self-torture: Yay! I'm at the beach! It's so wonderful! Oh but my feet are burning! And to get to that perfect beach spot over there I have to continually subject my feet to burning then respite then burning then respite then burning again! Ow! Ow! Ow! But...Yay! I'm at the beach!
While the teeny bikinis around me in St Croix danced across the sand like those water-skimming mosquitoes, I found myself walking around looking like a very hot, very sweaty penguin. I tried gripping the sand with my toes and quickly had an evolutionary flashback to a monkey in a tree gripping onto the branches with its nimble feet. It didn't work very well, either.
One thing I did notice was that if I kept my core engaged - my center pressed against my spine - it was a little easier. But just a smidge. For the most part I just fumbled along, insanely grateful to finally reach the final destination of my beach chair.
It was worth it, though.
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