The air is crisp and cool when I step out of my building.
I glance up at my apartment window, so badly wanting to just go back inside and curl up in bed with the fiance and two dogs that I left there.
I shiver, stretch my arms above my head, turn my stopwatch to 00:00:00 and begin.
My first regret is that I did not bring gloves, but I shake it off. My body will take care of itself.
It's completely dark out except for the street lights.
When I get to the river the city stretches out before me, lights scattered here and there in windows.
The world is still asleep.
I only hear the sounds of my breathe, my feet hitting the ground.
I begin ascending a hill, pumping my arms to push the rest of my body up. I feel satisfaction once I reach the top.
I push on. As I approach Boathouse Row more runners are spotted. Some with dogs. Some in pairs. Some as loners, like me.
When I approach the turn around point my hands and brow are sweating. See - no gloves necessary.
As I head back into the city it appears the sun is waking up in the east behind the Art Museum. But it's deceiving. It's the city lights that shine, not the sun. It will be another hour before he wakes.
I pick up the pace during the last mile, sprinting the last block home.
I arrive back at my building, stretch my calves on the stairs, and give one last look down the street before heading inside.
I'm now ready to start my day.
I glance up at my apartment window, so badly wanting to just go back inside and curl up in bed with the fiance and two dogs that I left there.
I shiver, stretch my arms above my head, turn my stopwatch to 00:00:00 and begin.
My first regret is that I did not bring gloves, but I shake it off. My body will take care of itself.
It's completely dark out except for the street lights.
When I get to the river the city stretches out before me, lights scattered here and there in windows.
The world is still asleep.
I only hear the sounds of my breathe, my feet hitting the ground.
I begin ascending a hill, pumping my arms to push the rest of my body up. I feel satisfaction once I reach the top.
I push on. As I approach Boathouse Row more runners are spotted. Some with dogs. Some in pairs. Some as loners, like me.
When I approach the turn around point my hands and brow are sweating. See - no gloves necessary.
As I head back into the city it appears the sun is waking up in the east behind the Art Museum. But it's deceiving. It's the city lights that shine, not the sun. It will be another hour before he wakes.
I pick up the pace during the last mile, sprinting the last block home.
I arrive back at my building, stretch my calves on the stairs, and give one last look down the street before heading inside.
I'm now ready to start my day.
That was awesome Kristin. The early morning cold and solitude is exactly why this is my favorite time of year for a run.
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