The sky to the east was just barely pink as I strode down the laneway. On my out run I could almost hear the blushing of the horizon behind me. The half moon was large and honey coloured as it hung on my left shoulder, whispering stories of the nights yet to be. Crows strutted through freshly plowed fields, robins dashed along the road’s edge and a natural symphony of song birds made the thought of running with an ipod simply ludicrous.
The turn-around is that moment when I burst into the sunrise. The colours so astounding. Salmons, pinks, flamingos, corals dancing amidst purple grays and pewters. The half moon, now falling behind me on my right, was an immaculate white as it faded to the eruption of the sun onto centre stage.
I stopped, pulled off my runners and socks. I ran into the sunrise.
The asphalt was as cold on the soles of my feet as the Sahara Desert just before sunrise or the Atlantic waters of Kennington Cove year round. The sensations along the bottoms of my feet were amazing, exquisite, and the discomfort in my tibialis anterior instantly dissolved. My toes were free to move and I marveled at my ability to wiggle my toes while running!
It just plain felt great.