Chasing Sunrises

I’m screaming.

The words aren’t mine, they’re Cobra Skulls’. It’s dark. I assume it’s quiet, my earbuds give me the impression that there is nothing else happening around me and the tunnel created by my headlamp reinforces the context. I might as well be transporting through some futuristic tube that shoots me through time, but I’m not. I’m just running.

The noise I’m creating I hope is not disturbing anyone else for a couple of reasons. First, I’m out here to try to get away from distractions, i’d hate to be one for someone else. Second, it would be embarrassing if someone heard me singing while trying to breath as I run through the dark and into the desert.

This has become my habitual morning. Get up, 2 pints of water, a cup of coffee and then running shoes or the bike and off to find a sunrise that will make me amazed.

I’ve found that feeling the awe of a the sun rising is the best way for me to start the day. The exercise and open space clear my head, the beauty makes me remember what’s important and it keeps me in shape.

The idea of enjoying a sunrise isn’t anything new. I would think that all of us have been forced out of bed before the day broke and witnessed the initiation of light. It’s hard to not be impressed by the glowing line on the horizon, the oranges, yellows and hues of blue and purple juxtapositioned perfectly to create the sunrise.

It was in Idaho two years ago that I first fell in love with this ritual. KB and I were on the Tourdaho. We would wake up about 30 minutes before the sun and start to get things ready. Our goal was to have camp packed up, be drinking our coffee before the sun came up. Then we would hit the road shortly after. It only took 2 or three days before I realized how much seeing the first light made my day.

I made a goal to keep up with seeing the crack of dawn every day once I was back to normal life. I tried, but it didn’t have the same appeal when I just sat and watched it come through the windows.

Then I went for a dawn patrol ride.

Lately, my morning forays have become super consistent. Driven by the desire to get back to proper riding shape and a weight that actually makes sense for my frame is accompanied and intensified by this gnawing sensation that there are only so many more of these left.

And yes, I realize that the sun will rise. It doesn’t care if we are here or what shape this sphere is that we abide on. What is bugging and nagging at my cold, dark heart is how fast the desert is disappearing. The roads are in a constant state of weight gain. There are almost countless numbers of developments plowing throw the creosote and upending the prickly pear. The tumor that we are is growing faster than I can feel good about. The couple more mile rule is turning into more and more miles to get away.

I mean, I had to wait for multiple mountain bikers, three runners and two hikers on a Wednesday morning before 7 AM on City Creek. Who rides/runs/hikes City Creek? I mean, except me. They’ve been pushed off Paradise and it’s the next best thing I suppose.

I roll through the bath tub, grunt up the other side and pop out into the grotto. I stop. The sun is just cresting. The oranges are exploding into yellows that are chasing the darker shades of purple away. The energy of the dusk is breaking into the bustle, hustle of the day. It’s only a few moments. Just long enough to snap a few photos, pump my fist into the air as if high fiving the sky and I put me head back down and continue to pedal up the climb. It’s a short reprieve, but it’s everything that I need.

P. L. and R.