I have also taken up running, something I gave up years ago in the wet, gloomy darkness of Portland. But I don't run because it's sunny here almost every day, and I don't run because there are more perfect bodies in Los Angeles than I have ever seen in my life. I run because I can.

And I run because, as my feet meet the sidewalk, I digest my life changes and discover new lines for my stories, and as the palm trees tickle my peripheral vision, I dream.

And I run because as I count down the blocks in descending order — eighteen, seventeen, sixteen — I know when my feet land on block one, my eyes will be rewarded with the most humbling stretch of the Pacific Ocean. Some days I stand on the path above the beach, taking in the endless kingdom of liquid blue. Some days I run down the slope and over the bridge onto the sand, to smell the water and listen to the waves moving toward and away from the land.

Then, I remind myself to stay in the fight, while I surrender to this view.