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.