It was Tuesday night and my intuition kept whispering to me that I should go run with the 5am run group. Ergh! It's so early!
I hadn't been to that run meetup in months and months because who wants to get up before sunrise?
But my intuition was insistent, and I've learned the hard way when I don't listen to it. So I set the alarm for 4:10am, laid out my clothes, found my head torch and went to sleep.
The next morning I was greeted with heavy, threatening, dark grey clouds and a cold wind. Thankfully here in Brisbane, a bit of wind in late September doesn't make it bleak, but it wasn't exactly warm.
The view out over the water was beautiful though and, to my surprise, almost a dozen of us had dragged ourselves out of bed.
I never know who I'm going to run with in this group and this morning it was Ian who suggested I join him. Since he's forever training for long stuff I think he was happy to have some company, and most of the group can't keep up with him.
His plan was 5 minutes cruising, 5 mins at 10k pace, repeat for 40 minutes total. Sounded okay in theory, and since I knew the route I didn't mind if he dropped me.
I quickly discovered how fast his 'cruising' pace was; at 5:30 per km it was my current fast pace! Lucky my body knows how to wake up fast. 😂
By the time we shifted to his 10k pace I was warmed up enough to stretch it out, but all talking ceased as I focused on breathing and maintaining the 4:45 pace.
After just one minute at this pace, I knew there was no way I was going to run the whole way with him. But I hung on for that 5 minute block and then attempted to recover as we returned to his cruising pace.
I gladly turned back towards the rest of the group at the end of that 5 minute recovery block, and walked. I felt grateful to have zero stories about what it means to be a "real runner" since these days I delight in doing whatever the hell I want in my run/walks.
I walked alone, calling out to other running from our group as they passed me, quietly wondering how long it would take for them to catch me back up so I would have some company. But once they'd gone again I revelled in the solitude, the peace, the quiet, and the freedom I had cruise at whatever pace worked for me.
After a mouthful of water at a public fountain I walked up the hill and discovered some birds nesting on top of a super high post. I stopped still to see if I could make out their shape and thereby discover which kind of birds they were. Their call was different to anything I'd heard before, and I stood there in awe, like a little kid seeing something for the first time.
Still clueless as to their kind, eventually I felt pulled to move again, and so the long slow jog back to the start recommenced.
I remember flashes of images: crossing the road at the same point as an old man and smiling at our early morning meeting, admiring a massive banyan tree that's the size of a small house, grinning at a cyclist as he rode past me working hard to get up the hill I was about to cruise down.
And then I passed a spot where I could see out over the water, and it was perfect timing; the full, red sun had just cleared the bay and shone brightly into my eyes as it continued moving upwards towards the dark clouds seemingly only centimetres above the horizon.
I paused again and breathed, taking in the moment. I reached for my phone to take a photo and then stopped. I realised that somewhere along the way I'd developed a habit of capturing the moment but not always savouring it.
I left my phone in my hip belt and just stared at the beauty I had the privilege of experiencing.
And finally the others began to catch me up. I happily chatted with Rodney as we cruised at 6 minute pace back to our starting spot, before realising that Ian was still not back. So after a quick hello to the others I cruised back out to meet Ian and run him back in. It felt like nice closure; to finish what we'd started.
It turns out that he'd miscalculated the distance (it's hard to work out the best place to do a turn around on a timed, tempo run) and so he'd done at least an extra km than he'd intended. Lucky I didn't try and stick with him!
With 6.5km on my watch, I was ready to drink some more water, and took my lead from some of the guys who were stretching out their older bodies, and did the same.
Then I sat on a rock, happily looking out over the choppy, beautiful water covered by still threatening, heavy clouds and gratefully ate my pre-made breakfast.
I was deeply content, and grateful again that I'd listened to that nagging voice deep within me that told me to do that 5am run.