That sounds like wonderful prediction, doesn’t it? Well it was, but only for the first 15 minutes of my day! Just when you think you have it easy, it can get hard real fast.
Inadvertently, I woke up at 4:30 this morning. That’s my usual time when I have to commute to the city. Today, I didn’t have to drive. I jumped out of bed because I thought it was 6:30 a.m.
After some warm ups, I bolted outside into the darkness. As I’ve mentioned before, I like to work out first thing in the morning before my mind has a chance to wake up and rebel. It was a cold 45 degrees, but I tried not think about it and forged on. I thought to myself, “I’m only going for a short run. It won’t be so bad.”
Strangely, there weren’t any other runners around the lake today. Normally, there are dozens of early risers getting a jog in before work. After half an hour, the sun still wasn’t rising at all. That’s when I realized that something was wrong. I was up way too early.
At this point, there was no way that I’d be able to rewind and go back to sleep. Even though I was tired and struggling, my body was awake enough from the chilly air that it didn’t make sense to quit.
I had read my zodiac predication the night before and almost laughed out loud. With all the extra time I had now, I decided to turn my short run into a long one. My zodiac gave me a clear sign to hang out and enjoy the passing scenery, so I did.
It’s a rare treat to be at the lake at night, especially when there aren’t other pedestrians around. Despite the piercing cold, I appreciated the stillness. The ducks weren’t even in the water and lined up at the edge, patiently waiting for the sun to come out so they could warm their feathers.
The chilly air and quietness made me focus on nothing but the moment, something which I haven’t been able to do for a very long time. I wasn’t distracted by Olympic-fast joggers wearing face masks for “resistance training” or by overhearing private conversations from urban strollers. There were no car horns, seagull cries, or traffic signals beeping. I couldn’t see very well with the dim lights, but it didn’t matter. It was just me, the lake, and no one else.
Some day pictures of the lake: