The days are shorter, the clocks have gone back an hour and all the winter sports are well under way. The weather, however, seems not to have read the memo, and remains warm to hot throughout, even chucking in the occasional summer electrical storm to fool everyone into thinking winter may never come. And so the floor fans remain in place, heaters haven't even been considered, and the duvet remains in the bag it was placed into at the end of last winter.
My middle of the night run this morning, then, was a thoroughly pleasant affair in a mild 20 degrees or so, with a nice breeze to dry my sweat. 3:30 a.m. is a mightily early time to be running, even by my pre-dawn standards, but I found myself awake earlier than need be and just decided to make use of the extra time for a prolonged early plod.
The normally busy streets around my neighbourhood take on a wholly different character at that time of night, and rushing people, cars and trains all vanish to be replaced by hordes of hopping bunnies, croaking frogs and a few fruit bats. It's a side of the suburb very few people ever even see, with far fewer still experiencing the full heightened-senses impact of a run through it all as the world sleeps.
I ran 9km at that hour, loving every minute of it. It almost feels like some weird religious thing, seeking some strange running nirvana whilst embracing the darkness and transmogrification of a suburb moved from chaos to serenity by the mere transition through night. I completed my run, got ready for work, took the train into town, walked another 2km and was still at work by 6 a.m.
As ridiculous as it all sounds, I loved it, and it set me up really well for the day ahead, which was a rough one as we transition from one old system to a brand-spanking but poorly conceived, cheaply designed and badly installed new one. Yet, thanks to my nocturnal meanderings I sailed through it all and came out the other side still smiling.
You have to be happy with that.
April Fuels
