observations on a morning walk

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If I’ve woken up to the soft glow of a sunny morning, and if I can get out of bed, and if I can get the kids dressed quickly enough, I love to go on morning walks. That’s a lot of ifs for one sentence, and yes, I realize it’s a run-on.

Mornings are my favorite time of day (aside from evenings which are also my favorite time of day for different reasons). I love to go outside in crisp, cool morning air before most of the people around are awake. It’s a little something special between me and the universe and other early risers.

I love getting to watch a city wake up, deliveries being made, birds starting to sing. I love the quiet before the music of the shopping centers starts up, being able to hear the sounds of water from various fountains slapping against the concrete.

I love watching what the other early risers do. Today a woman was sitting on a barricade in front of the dog park, reading “Becoming”. She smiled as we walked by. I wondered about her story, why she was outside reading in the morning. Did she have to go to work afterward? Was this part of a morning ritual?

In New York, runners always fly past me on morning walks. In Redmond, there is hardly any foot traffic at all. In Dublin, deliveries of Guinness kegs clog alleyways. In Paris, the streets are hosed down, cleaning off the city grime from the previous night. At our hotel in Hawaii, the pool was being cleaned between downpours of rain from a constantly changing sky. In Coupeville, the serenity of a morning walk along a pebble beach is enough to make your entire world stand still for just a few minutes and allow for some life-altering inner peace.

They say “the early bird gets the worm”. I say, “the early bird gets to watch all the other early birds and get inspired for the day.”

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