Matt Marshall

3 Posts with Tag morning (All tags)

22 Aug 2017, 09:00

Every morning

It still amazes me what happens when the sun rises. I know, it's cliché and it's incredibly soppy, but I don't care. I'm lucky in that how I like to configure one my core habits involves me getting to see a lot of sunrises, especially during the late-summer and mid-spring months.

During the majority of summer, the sun has already risen by the time I head outside to train. At this point in the year, I can already feel Sol beginning to wane ahead of the winter. I can see it winding down as the light that greets me as I open the door is now just beyond the horizon. This morning, it was extra humid -- my most hated weather of all time. The damp heat saps my strength and fills my lungs, so I took an extra minute or so during a rest break. I took a look around and appreciated that the night's deep colour had given away to cold blue-grey of early morning. I smiled to myself and got on with the rest of my training, finishing around 15 minutes later as I've routinely failed to push past my maintenance routine into progress. By this time, the air was pink, and I lay on the ground watching the birds flit around. As my body rested I bathed in the atmosphere and routine I've come to know so well -- at 0535 someone (I've never found out who, nor do I wish to) empties a lot of glass bottles into the bins in the alley. A few minutes after that the first of the neighbourhood cats comes by, across the wall. It ignores me.

When air turns gold, I move. I'm sore, but only for a few moments. At this point, when the sun has risen, the rest of my world has risen with it. I can faintly hear people talking as they walk in the streets towards wherever they're going. Cars are frequent sounds. The house across from us has its lights on now. I wave back at the young woman who waves at me from the window. I stretch, put away the ladder I use to access my pull-up bar, pick up my towel from the ground, and re-enter my flat.

I'm not sure what the purpose of this piece of writing is supposed to be. I'm not sure it needs one. It just fascinates me that, for all of our societal evolution, we're by-and-large still just silly apes that begin moving when the big ball in the sky appears. For all of the supposed life and energy in the night, it is still mostly dead.

I dunno, I just had a nice morning, and wanted to share it.

humanism sunrise morning poetic shithead