There are a number of factors that go into selecting the route for my morning run. How fierce is the wind? What direction is it coming from? Do I want to do hills or not? Has the lakewalk been plowed? Is there likely to be ice melt? How far do I want to go? All are serious considerations.
Today, the deciding factor was something entirely different. Will there be a good sunrise? An affirmative answer to that question trumped all others. I would head up the shore.
I was a bit early for Brighton Beach. The colors were pale and uninspiring as I passed along the jumble of ice crumpled against that shore. So I pressed on. I was grateful that the shoulders on Scenic 61 were less snowy than yesterday, and when no cars were in sight I admit to trespassing on the road where the tire tracks cleared the pavement.
It wasn’t long before the colors began to deepen. First a brilliant red, followed by fiery orange. Generally, I don’t stop for anything on my run. But after what seemed an eternity of gray cloudy days, I was prepared for this early morning display. My super compact camera was snuggled into the back pocket of my tights.
As the sun rose, the colors lessened, but I was intrigued with the way they reflected off the pockets of water trapped between passages of ice. I could see it better with my eyes than the camera could, but it was still worth a shot. Another trip across the road to snap a picture.
The whole display was short lived. Before long the clouds crowded in and obliterated the horizon, snuffing out the light show. But it still lit up my day. I carried the spectacle with me for miles, and it warmed me from within. There’s nothing like a good sunrise to make all feel right with the world.
How lucky I am to live in such beautiful surroundings. Not many people get to witness fire and ice in the same sunrise.