There’s something about running in the early morning hours that renews my spirit. Getting out while the rest of the world has barely begun to stir inside their houses. Watching and waiting as the day awakens. Running to meet the sun before it peaks in the sky.
Sometimes there’s an early morning fog, clinging to the air like a gossamer shroud, reluctant to be lifted by the warmth of the sun’s rays. It eventually clears, much like the fog in my brain on some days, offering a new view of the world. One that often, hopefully, makes more sense than it did when I started out.
On other mornings, when the heat has already transcended upon the trails and I have to push forward without the benefit of cloud cover, the sweat on my brow reminds me of how far I’ve come in my strength and endurance. There was once a time I wouldn’t even have attempted to withstand the heat, opting instead to stay indoors. Now, the promise of an early morning run can summon me from under the covers before the crack of dawn.
The rhythmic whisper of my running shoes padding against the pavement is comforting, almost as much as the sounds of nature floating up around me. Sometimes I choose music to accompany my journey. Other times, though, I’m just content to be alone with my thoughts.