Maybe I just need more sleep

So...last night (or should I say this morning?) at 4:30am James (one of the Banana Bungalow's staff and I were talking right before I retired to bed.  I told him how I wished I could get a ride.  He laughed. Then, he said "well, I am driving that way to work after I get off here at 8am. If you are ready to go by 8:40am we are good."  I should have laughed then...I mean...you want me to do a distance hike on 3.5 hours of sleep? and why would anyone working from 8pm-8am in the hostel want to drive to work another 8 hours immediately after the overnight shift?  I should first explain that I was up at 4:30am because there was a murder on the beach just down from our hostel last night...and everyone was sort of on edge.  I woke at 8am, ate, got ready and was out the door with a well-clad, golf club-ready James who had showered and put on the company's uniform vest.  I had had 3.5 hours of sleep.  He had been working since 8pm, but you would never know.  We both looked well rested, excited, and awake.  Him, ready to meet rich La Jolla doctors and lawyers; me, ready to hike 13 miles.  It was a pleasant trip.  We discussed his goals and how he was using his work at the golf course as a networking opportunity.  Although our lives and dreams are so different, I realized through our conversation that we are both doing the same thing...networking.  His will be done on golf courses serving people.  Mine, will be done around the world; walking, talking, laughing, taking pictures, and spreading stories.  There is no right way to network, but I like my way better.  James drops me off on the side of Route 5 in Del Mar, wishes me luck, and tells me he will be back in the hostel between 3 and 4pm.  I make it my goal to beat him back there.  I feel lucky to have been here in this moment.  In this conversation. With this dream.  It takes me a few moments to figure out how to get to the water's edge.  I ask directions at a gas station and the man thinks I am insane.  He is unwilling to even give me proper directions.  I figure it out on my own.  I walk under the Rt. 5 overpass, pass the fairgrounds and race track and down via de la Valle.  I backtrack a mile to Sea Grove Park, literally running back on the beach as the tide rises attempting to keep my shoes dry.  I later walk through Solana Beach to a cute seaside surfing village called Cardiff-by-the-Sea.  On the way, I pass a campground, a professional surfing competition, and I walk mainly sidewalks (due to high tide).  I pass some of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen.  I am hungry and hot.  I see a Patagonia clothing store, but when I ask I am told there is not one short-sleeved synthetic shirt to be bought in the store. What? This is southern California surf territory people!  Oh yeah, it is January, so the 78 degree temperature must be too cold(?) for short sleeve shirts here.  hahaha.  They couldn't even find one in their backstock.  I walk another two blocks to a very popular looking cafe.  I get in line and realize I don't have my wallet.  It is in the hostel.  Geez! I hadn't noticed before because James gave me a ride. I can't eat AND I can't take a bus back to the hostel either.  I sit on the curb outside the cafe and call my mom, knowing others can hear me.  A woman in her mid 40's dining alone hears me and tells me I can have a ride to Pacific Beach.  She is heading there to visit her brother anyway.  She is great!  She gives me a ride, dropping me off at the hostel.  She waits while I make sure my wallet is in the hostel.  It is. We exchange phone numbers and she gives me the phone numbers of friends in the Bay area, etc.  It is now only 2:30pm and I am back in the hostel, having only hiked 6.7 miles.  I putter around the hostel, pay for another night, call a bunch of other numbers and realize there are no longer any hostels between San Diego and Los Angeles. All three of the hostels I considered staying in have closed in the last four years.  I see James enter the hostel, but during the day I have lost my voice due to my cold.  It is impossible for me to thank him, since my voice is now a squeaky, raspy, high-pitched mumble.  I make a vegetable and pesto pasta dinner and play soccer on the beach with about 15 guys from the hostel.  By some stroke of luck, I don't suck and I actually make two of our 8 goals!  That will probably never happen again.  I have a fairly quiet night.  I watch a movie in the common room with the others, then I head to bed early, knowing I am already sleep-deprived, tired, and sick.  I do free laundry (thanks to one of the hostel employees who felt like hooking me up with some kindness...that and wearing the same clothes everyday...I probably smell!). 

We are both networking...I am just having fun while I do it.