Morning Run

It's early, perhaps a little too early.  The sun won't be up for a little while yet on this unseasonably cool, spring morning.  I've had a light breakfast and my travel mug sits in the car with a little leftover coffee slowly cooling.  My work clothes are tucked away in a locker and I'm standing in the parking lot outside the gym getting ready to for a morning run. 

 It's chilly, just a little above freezing and after a just a few minutes outside, I begin to hop about to stay warm.  On this dark, clear morning, the stars draw my attention.  They seem particularly bright, shinning in the ink black sky. I absentmindedly scan the heavens for familiar constellations while I wait, somewhat impatiently, for my GPS to finish searching the same sky.  It is looking for the satellites needed to calculate my position on the earth and this never happens fast enough on a cold morning. I glance down at this GPS device to check on how its doing. It looks like a slightly large, round, digital wrist watch.  There are little lights blinking that tell be how the search is progressing and confirming that it has discovered the heart rate monitor I'm wearing.  The technology that enables this little GPS to do its job is really pretty awesome and I let myself be impressed by the magic for a moment.  This makes me a little less impatient, but just a little, and I wonder if the cliche about "watched pots" holds true for satellite signals as well.

While I wait, the crisp, chilly air presses in on me, penetrating the two or three layers of "tech" fabric that is supposed to keep me warm and "wick away" the moisture.  At the same time my body is radiating a little bit of heat resulting from my feeble attempt at simple calisthenics.  The heat and cold fight for control of my skin temperature and it seems that the battle is tilting in favor of the cold.  I'm not too concerned. In a very short time, the battle will swing quickly and decisively to the other extreme where the heat will overwhelm and vanquish the surrounding cold.  At that point I'll be wondering why I dressed so warmly.  For the now, the key is to just get moving.

The GPS beeps declaring that it is satisfied with its newly found stellar sentinels and with their help has figured out where, exactly, we are. This sound also a queue that it's time to get underway. The run begins with a short hop and skip and the first few strides toward the main road as I press the GPS start button and begin recording details. 

In the first few minutes I cover a quarter mile or so.  Once my mind settles down a bit,  my body warms up and little adrenaline gets burned off, I realize that I'm already breathing hard. This is a reminder to get the pace under control now or a major burnout about half way through the workout is certain. These runs almost always start too fast and this morning is no exception. Being a little cold has made me anxious to get moving and warm up so I have been oblivious to my pace.  The first order of business is to take conscious control my breathing. Deep, regular, rhythmic breathing relieves the minor physiological panic my body is experiencing.  My concentration then turns to the sound of my shoes hitting the pavement and the details of my posture.  Slowly I adjust my stride and cadence. Listening carefully to the metronome of foot strikes, I dial in that regular tempo I've become accustom to hearing when I am at my preferred pace.  I straighten my back a little,  relax my shoulders, and focus on landing my feet below my hips. I review an entire mental checklist of running form details and I try to pinpoint when running got so complicated. 

It doesn't take long to finally settle into the steady, efficient pace that doesn't leave me breathless but keeps me moving forward at a reasonable speed.  Now that the ritual of early run adjustments is complete, my mind is released to freely drift between in a sea of millions of random thoughts, only occasionally returning to the moment to check on breathing, cadence and posture.  I think about my plan for the day, or the way I handled some situation at work or at home earlier in the week.  I come up with to-do lists of all sorts but my memory is poor so they are mostly useless.  The mental gymnastics serve simply to occupy my mind as I run along the quiet streets of sleepy residential neighborhoods and past dark store fronts of businesses that have not yet opened.

About half way though the run I begin to see the first natural light of the day.  There are few things are as inspirational as watching the sun rise on a morning run.  As I run eastward, the daylight illuminates the sky over the buildings in front of me.  The newness of the day always fills my soul with joy.  For the next couple of miles I watch the dawn blossom into a new day.  It happens slowly. First the sky lightens to an intense blue and as the brightness continues to spread the first bird calls can be heard.  The world seems to come alive.  Eventually the sun crests rooftops of the houses and I put on my sun glasses and bath in the sun's brightness.  The memory of these scenes and the pleasure they bring will sustain me on the long treadmill sessions on cold winter mornings.

Of course with the sun, the air begins to warm and now I really wish I wearing one less layer.  I know this route well though and it is not far to go. Around the next turn there is the slight hill.  After that it is a short quarter mile back to the gym.  The run has lasted just a little less shy of an hour.  I can tell my heart rate is up, I've got a good sweat going and my legs are feeling a little heavy. Even so I feel rejuvenated.  I look at the GPS and, satisfied with the speed and distance, slow to an easy jog in front of the gym again. I am ready for a warm shower and the start of a new day.