Early walks

I've started a thing. When we were in Mexico in June, I would get up early and take a walk around the resort by myself, sometimes listening to a podcast and sometimes just lost in thought or muttering to myself when a salient thought hit me. I've always been an early riser and require a certain amount of time outside, preferably by myself lost in thought. But for the past several years, I've had these tiny babies and toddlers and always imagined them wandering out the door to find me if they woke before I got back. That fear was enough to keep me tethered to the couch in the morning; not a bad place to be with my cup of coffee and morning news and the promise of a bleary eyed child getting up shortly for matted hair snuggles. 

But Harper turned seven last month and Ashton turns five next week. They know how to find their dad, they can get their own snack, and even turn on the TV. They look for me when they wake up, sure, but they wouldn't worry or go looking for me if I weren't there, they would simply find a plan B. So several months ago after Mexico, I realized that these cleansing early morning walks need not be relegated to vacation, they could become part of my normal routine. It's not something I do every day, I don't set an alarm or anything. But when I wake up at 6:00 or 6:15 and have sufficient energy, I pour a cup of coffee that Robert sets up to automatically start in the morning (#bless), throw on shoes and head out, sometimes in pajamas and sometimes in sweats. 

Good morning, house.

I see things in the morning that I don't see the rest of the day. It is startlingly quiet in my neighborhood and very dark that early in the morning. On clear days, there are still tons of stars in the sky when I start my walk, and I notice the same bright ones every day. I always stop and take a deep breath because the air feels cold and crisp in the morning, right now with hints of fall earthiness. The leaves on my street have started turning yellow, which of course I notice more in the day, but the crunchiness is more apparent before dawn without the sounds of cars and neighbors or even birds to detract. 

Morning mountains

I feel safe in the morning. Maybe I shouldn't because it's pitch black, and I am all alone, but there is a perhaps naive part of me that believes night is for bad guys. Good guys are up at 6:00 am. Dog walkers, early morning joggers, diligent essential workers boarding buses in the cold, construction workers getting an early start at the giant development at the corner of 21st and 21st. I check out the construction every day with the curiosity of a 5 year old boy, watching the excavators dig and the walls come up. What used to be a hole in the ground is now the skeleton of a mixed use apartment building and shopping/dining center. I plan on living in our home for another 50 years which means I might grow to love some of the restaurants and shops or even occupants of the building. I may grown to hate how it affects parking or traffic or our local elementary school down the block. More likely, it will just become part of the fabric of our community, and I will get used to it. But this morning, the front walls came up for the first time, the ones closest to the street, and I realized I could see a little less of the mountains from my walk on 21st South, and a knot entered my chest because I often see the sun come up over those mountains right as I turn that corner, and it's a small time outside of time moment in my day. I tried to explain that later in the day to my teenager, and he didn't quite understand why I felt so sad. "Can't you see the mountains when you walk further up the street?" he asked. "Yes, I can" I said still feeling sad. 

October 2022

Recently, I gave my first keynote speech at a conference, which was practiced almost exclusively on my morning walks. Practicing without notes, slides, or distractions works well for me. I would say words out loud testing their effectiveness, holding them up to the first light of day and my clearest mind to see if I really liked or believed them. It was a good speech. At first I was embarrassed when I walked past other people and I was talking out loud, but then I realized most of them had AirPods on and couldn't hear me anyway so I stopped being embarrassed. I would still give them a nod and smile like I do to all my early morning compatriots. 

Today it's October 22 and we're supposed to get our first snow of the year tomorrow, and then it will proceed to be cold for the next six months. I'm not sure if I'll keep walking or maybe the couch, coffee, and fire will exert a stronger gravitational pull. Either way is fine, I just want to codify here on the blog how much I've enjoyed these walks and how my best days are always the ones that start that way.