CITY ISLAND LINES
I started my run earlier than usual today. Initially I was propelled prematurely into the day by jet lag, my internal clock arguing with the external one; but the main reason for my early start was the murderous heat, a runner’s greatest foe. So, with the dusky sky casting a subtle blush on the distant buildings, I donned just enough clothing to avoid indecency and started my local round.
The half-light made me feel stealthy and sleek. Capitalising on this welcome sensation, I accelerated through the residential portion of my route, which brought me swiftly to the bike path that then bent toward the beach. Rounding the corner, I was startled to see the early bird actually getting the worm. The Robin in question was equally startled to encounter me, and hopped off crossly. But as soon as I’d trotted by, he puffed up his red breast and returned to mercilessly pecking and shaking the hapless annelid. A few strides further, I nearly tripped over a turkey hen proudly strutting ahead of her two skulking chicks. The threesome barely registered my presence in the half-light of morning. Nor did they give a moment’s notice to the stout ungainly geese confidently waddling about behind them. As I entered the woods, I could sense the heat seeking and sneaking up on me. Onward I went, starting to feel a slick skein of sweat coating my limbs. Around me the air was humid and heavy with a feral fertile scent. I veered gratefully toward the beach, and the breeze, and the sand, where the normally raucous seagulls were still abed, perhaps hung-over from the previous night’s brawls. A few lurched drunkenly to their feet in order to avoid me, as I puttered along the shoreline. An osprey floated elegantly above. The last leg of my run took me back through the woods, where a blue jay skittered off leaving a fleeting streak of sapphire in its wake. I could hear occasional rustlings in the bushes, as crepuscular creatures made their final forays. Sounds of a wakening world echoed around me, and I felt myself awakening too. So I picked up the pace toward the end of my route, as the hot yolk of sun nosed its way above the horizon. Trying to outrun the villainous heat was futile, and when I’d finished my route, I slouched slowly back home through a restaurant car park. Here I stumbled across a selection of coins scattered in the gravel, change fallen from an unwitting diner’s pocket. A windfall of 58 cents. So the early bird does indeed get the worm, or in my case, 58 cents; but more importantly, the early runner gets to witness the morning magic of the waking world.
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