Run baby, run: morning magic

6:00am - my alarm clock starts screaming. For a second I wonder why it has to wake me up so brutally, but then I remember: right... I'm going for a run this morning.

I get up, still half asleep. I put on the running clothes I picked out the night before: sports bra, running crops, a long-sleeve because it's still chilly at this time of day. Socks and running shoes are last.
I stumble down the stairs, put my new Polar sports watch in the window sill to start looking for a GPS signal. After a big glass of water and a bathroom visit I'm good to go. Sports watch at the ready, music in my ears. It's 6.15 - let's go.

I love running at this time of day. It's still dark. The first few hundred meters I don't really notice what's going on. My feet move automatically: they know the way. I look around a bit, hear birds waking up, slowly wake up myself.
After the first kilometre my body starts to warm up, and I can pick up the tempo. The world is still asleep, the roads are mine. I hear only the sound of my footsteps and my breathing. As I get faster my breathing starts to become heavier, and little clouds form as I breathe out. My heart is pounding, blood is rushing through my veins - after 2 kilometres I'm well awake.
I try to go just a little bit faster. I'm only going for a small round, so I want to make it count. In many houses I see lights turning on as I pass them. The world is slowly waking up. A man is looking out his window, giving me a thumbs up. I smile.
3 kilometres - time to go all out. For the last 500 meters I run at full speed, my lungs burn, my heart seems to want to burst out of my chest. But I have the biggest smile on my face. As my watch tells me I reached my goal, I slow down and walk the last meters home. I stretch, kiss Imre good morning, and sync my watch.

Time for a shower.

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