It’s Tuesday morning. The sun glancing over the horizon; its position and warmth still far from their zenith. With the winds still calm, it truly is the quintessential summer dawn.
The downtown streets remain calm too. Morning traffic non-existent. Too early still for the vociferous throngs of office workers and too late for the more nocturnally inclined.
Yet I am not running this morning. And part of me, a large part of me, longs after this missed opportunity. Instead I will take to the roads later this evening, as I have now on Tuesdays for the last couple of months.
It still seems foreign to me. This aspect of training — running in the late day. And with mornings like this one I do relish the chance to just lace up and go.
But I know better.
I will need to save my strength for later. When I find myself sprinting uphill in the searing heat, heart clamouring from the effort to stay afloat amid a pack of Boston Qualifiers, I will be thanking my current self for showing restraint.
For now I sit comfortably on my balcony. Facing eastward with a glass of lemon water in hand I salute the rising sun and give thanks for what promises to be a most beautiful day.