PISMO BEACH, Calif. — I awoke at 7:30 a.m. to the pat-pat-pat of a jogger's feet in the coastal fog outside the window of our vehicle-turned-hotel room.
My previous night's camping fiasco had ended in the parking lot of a health spa, and I was feeling anything but healthy. My neck hurt, my head ached, I was sweaty, and I desperately needed a bathroom.
I stepped out into the fresh, salt-tinged breeze and a wave of early-morning exercise enthusiasts in all their glowing cardiovascular fervor swept by, making a mockery of my sleep-deprived debilitation. I imagined the wonderful warm soapiness of the showers in the women's locker room and contemplated making a run past the girl at the front counter, but thought better of it. This would not be seemly for a travel editor.
