'It's so pink!' she exclaims, her European accent adding to the quiantness of the moment. She's wrapped in a bright Mexican blanket and standing on the pavement, staring up at the sky. The sun is about to rise on the other side of False Bay, as it does every morning, but the last few days there has been great celebration and a fanfare of colours announcing this rising. As if the Sun is saying, 'Yes well, I do this every day, but that doesn't mean you can take it for granted!' So I stand reminded. Staring up at the sky, peeling my naartjie. I hug my Mexican blanketed neighbour a good morning and start jogging off down the road. Pink turning to orange to red above me. Nothing granted, all appreciated.
I veer off the road onto the boardwalk, hop skip and jump over the rocky bits and come down onto Danger Beach. The colours of the sky are reflected in the wet sand. They fade, and the sea pushes up another wave to lick the beach, creating the perfect canvas for the sunrise painting. Again and again and again. Wave after wave, sunrise after
sunrise Nature offers us there gifts of colour and beauty. Mine are the only footprints on the beach. The sun peeks out from behind the mountains chasing away the subtler colours, leaving a bright glowing yellow across the sky.
I run on. I've never liked running. I can only run if I do so next to the sea or in the mountain. Because then I can pretend it's something else. Exploring. Or checking the waves. But I am learning to run. Adam sent me a book 'Born to Run', about how we are the Running People, about the amazing ultra-runners of the planet, and the mindset of running. It makes sense. I repeat to myself 'easy, easy, easy... light light light light...' the author says that first comes easy, then light, then smooth, then fast. I don't think I'll ever be fast. I am aiming for light.
I turn on Muizenberg beach and run back. I feel quite smooth... the sun is up now and warming my back. No more colours in the sky, now it's the sea's turn to go chameleon. The flat dark of early morning is replaced by shining ripples, bright flashes of light off small waves. She is so glorious, the ocean. Back at Dalebrook pool I pull my clothes off fast before the chilly air changes my mind and I dive in. Again, it's just me. Winter in Cape Town promises solitude in the most beautiful places. I swim a few laps, look at the rocks and urchins underneath me. Dry off quick and hurry under the railway, over the road, up Rosmead and get a big hug from Mickey. 'Same as always, love?' she asks. Fruit salad, yoghurt, honey, fresh orange juice and a whale latte. The best coffee in the south.
Where in the world can you live such a morning? I am grateful.