morning run

Call me crazy. But I love waking up early in the morning before the boys are awake, soon after the sun has begun to invade the darkness of night. I trade my pj's for a pair of shorts, a tank top, socks and a running bra. I then lace up my running shoes, stretch the muscles which have been relatively motionless for hours, and I head out of my front door to run the winding streets of my quiet neighborhood.

I especially love running on a summer morning. Daylight spills upon our part of the earth as early as it ever will; people are less motivated to start their days early when the children are not in school; since the sun has yet to heat the earth, the humidity is lowest at this time of the day; and I have a nutritious breakfast waiting for me at the blackberry bushes which line the streets by our neighborhood's common areas. Right now, they are deliciously sweet and restore my energy during a longer run.

Particularly on Sundays, there is a stillness and a silence at daybreak that I revel in. My neighbors are asleep, and I have the privilege of being the first to enjoy the day. My own thoughts, which are often prayers--just a mental conversation with God--are the loudest sounds I hear. Beyond that, there is always a soft symphony of birdsongs and the occasional scurry heard in the nearby woods made by a playful squirrel or frightened rabbit. And of course there are the faithful sounds of my beloved hobby--my breaths coupled with the rhythmic patter of my shoes upon the pavement.

The wildlife, aware that humans have yet to stir in their nests, are the only creatures who are awake before I am. As I run past the pond that is behind our house, I often meet a family of deer on its way to their watering hole. No matter how many times we have met, they remain skeptical of me, and by the time I am within one-hundred yards of them they sprint, leaping high into the air with their white tails flashing, for the safety of the woods.

Just a few weeks ago, I came upon a fox who had its breakfast in its mouth, probably a rabbit or rat. I did not have the proximity nor adequate daylight to give an accurate account, but I felt very sorry for its victim. And then I thought of the Elton John song, "Circle of Life", and remembered that even the fox must eat, too. I kept a respectful distance from the fox as he looked at me and I looked at him. We paused, then decided that we would avoid one another. I was especially grateful for his evasion of me as I had heard that several foxes were rabid in our area.

I have been a faithful runner for the last 14 years, and I often joke that I will be running when I am 85 years old. I may laugh as I say it, but I mean it. It is one of the few goals I have as a runner--to run for the rest of my life. I am not out there each morning to train for a race or to increase my pace or distance. I am out there for the joy of it. (And, to be honest, to maintain a healthy, strong body and the same pants size.) I may be addicted, I admit. But what better addiction is there? Every morning, I wake up to get my fix. And along the way I get the opportunity to rejoice in a new day along with the wildlife, to see and hear the beauty of God's creation, to enjoy a rare moment of solitude, and to keep my body in tip-top shape.

Tomorrow morning, at daybreak, I'll have the option of another hour of sleep or a run through my neighborhood. If you have read this blog, you know why I'll opt for the latter. And with all that is waiting for me, why wouldn't I?