22 January 2019 18,886 steps 17 minutes running weight 79.1kg
After very little sleep (less than an hour) I arose at 3:40 a.m. for my early run. This was really not as difficult as it may sound, as I wasn’t properly sleeping anyway, and it was with some relief that I gave up trying and set about the business of beginning a day of running and work despite such a poor base of somnolescence.
And with my running gear all laid out the night before it was a simple matter of slipping into the running togs and out the door before sense and pragmatism slapped me into some realisation of what I was doing. Once outside however, I was stunned into full consciousness by what was an astonishing night. It was incredibly still and silent, with not even the slightest hint of a breeze: it was so incredibly dead calm that it was quite spooky. And so quiet… unusually quiet with not even the sound of distant traffic to break the night’s sudden and surprising aphony.
And whilst silent, yet everything was bright, with a huge, luminescent, full wolf moon hanging preposterously large in the sky and providing enough illumination to probably read by if I’d tried. And to top it off, hanging low in the south eastern sky were the planets Venus and Jupiter, close together and staggeringly brilliant. I haven’t seen Venus so bright in many years, and certainly not here in Sydney, and in such close combination with Jupiter it was a sight which more than compensated for the super early, super tired start to the day.
With such a stunning environment pretty much all to myself, there was no issue with the business of running. I set about the task of completing two laps of my Burgoyne hill circuit shaking my head at the beauty of it all, and fiercely polishing the lenses of my glasses with my running top to better see the night sky.
On my first lap as I turned into Burgoyne Street another surprise awaited me. Here I often disturb a fruit bat or two, who generally fly off squawking in disgust, but tonight was different. For a few moments, a bat flew silently beside me as I ran down the road, keeping level with my left shoulder as if on security detail. Usually these dark beasts are nigh on impossible to see in the dark, Burgoyne being especially badly lit, but tonight’s ultra-bright full moon meant I got a good look at my batty companion. These are large bats, about the size of a small eagle, as black as sin and which fly really very slowly and utterly silent. I’d like to say it gave me a knowing wink before flying off to see to other business, but that would be a little too fanciful. But just maybe I have at long last made a friend from among the local bat colony.
The night of surprises wasn’t over yet, however. My short run dutifully complete, I headed home and was cleaned up, breakfasted and ready for work in short order, and was at the train station at precisely 4:52 a.m. to catch the early train. I was on the concourse about the head down the steps to the platform when a very loud crack caught my attention. Next to the train station is a bus interchange, and on the other side of that is a giant eucalyptus tree, said by some to be the largest in Sydney. About to walk down the station steps, this tree is right on my line of vision, and so at the sound of the large cracking noise I immediately looked at it in time to see the largest, main branch of the tree, itself far bigger than most average trees come crashing to the ground with a tremendous roar. Two other people on the concourse and myself just stopped dead in our tracks in disbelief at what we just witnessed, and then looked at each other not quite believing what we had seen.
I remember some years back an arborist explaining to me that eucalyptus frequently drop their limbs (earning them the moniker ‘widow makers’ in this part of the world), but they do so not in windy conditions as you might think, but on very still, relatively cool nights following a hot spell. Which is exactly what we had this morning.
To actually be there at that exact moment and see such a colossal branch come crashing down capped off a bizarre, and very rare morning. I’d like to say it was the precursor to an exciting day of drama at work, but it wasn’t. In fact it was a dull day of little consequence, other than the fact that my early morning run in such amazing conditions gave me sufficient vim to easily get through the day despite the severe shortfall of sleep.
A rare, super-bright night sky, escorting fruit bats and a giant tree dropping limbs … once again, it helps explain why I run, even at 3:45 in the morning.
January 2019 ... here we go again!
