I call it daily morning run, but in fact it is not. I try to run daily, but practically i fail to do so. Sometimes 3 and sometimes 4 days a week i run. (note it i persistently use the word run). Actually i have developed the habit of going to my workplace running both in the morning and running back home in the evening. The one way distance is just a bit less than 4 km.
I usually come out of my house at around 6.30am. There are more than one reason for my so early start off in the morning, when the starting time of my work is 8am. Well, here i am not going to discuss these reasons, because that would take me away from the topic. Now-a-days when i come out of home at that time, its usually a bit cold. but bearable.
I do walk for about first 100 meters. But i do start running slowly, once i reach the main road. At that time i usually find all the roads empty. Theres no traffic at all at that time. I can even run in the middle of the road, but obviously i keep on running just by the footpath on the road. Every day i find a middle aged man waiting at the bus stop. I dont know at what time his bus arrives. I always pass by him as he looks on. In a passage of time, we have developed a very weak link between us. We just nod, while looking at each other. I just pass by him, running.
Just around 50 meters after the bus stop, i do cross the main roads, and continue running on the road just crossing the small bridge over the stream. Over the passage of time, i have made it a habit to look down the bridge and have a look of the slowly flowing water. Its all filled with huge trees by the sides. A beautiful scene indeed. I like that view. I continue running , with the same slow pace, now on the footpath, as i turn to the lane on the left. Just a few meters from there, at that particular time i find a driver starting the school van. I have always seen him sitting inside the van. I presume that the van usually leaves after a few minutes when i pass.
Almost daily, as i continue running, a university bus crosses me. The point of my way, where the bus crosses me, usually makes me realise if i was late that day or not. This bus crosses me usually within a span of one kilometre. I do know that the bus in fact picks a university employee from his house, living on that particular road. The bus driver, always look at me, while passing. May be he too has made me a part of his daily beat. I do usually try to listen the voice of the bus tyres, while i continue running, to come from my backside. That voice of the approaching bus has become an un-separable part of my daily run.
For almost next 200 meters, i pass through the lanes of houses. Small houses, with small but beautiful gardens in front. I never miss the sound of the barking dog in a house. That particular dog starts barking even much before my arrival by the house. I continue hear him barking even long after i bypass the house. Luckily theres no other such dog in that lane. I run by enjoying the trees. some filled with the fruits, some coloured flowers, some just green leaves. At that time of the morning, all that scenery gives me a new energy.
I keep on running, till i reach a small patch of mud. Thats the first point where i stop running and start walking. A bit ahead, i have to cross through two small roads, after that theres slight steep road. It is not a difficult patch of about 50 meters, but i always take it as an excuse not to run. I wal, till i reach the round about, where the old church stands, in the middle, with all its glory. The church has now been converted to act as a youth centre. There has been nobody around, at that time of the day. I cross the roads, running. I always see a small truck being parked just by the side of the road, with the driver sitting, perhaps waiting for some worker to be taken to work with him.
As i cross over the church and start running slowly over the steep road, i daily see a young man standing on the other side of the road, with a small bag on his back. He must wait for his bus. Too early perhaps.
Now as i continue running over this quite broad road, i see the houses on both the sides of the roads, but without any sign of any life, except a dog in a cage. Locked in a cage in a house. this dog too barks daily as i pass by. I am used to him, but the poor dog has not yet become used to me. I dont know why?
Just a hundred more meters, and i reach yet an another round about. I continue running. I do have to cross the road to be on other side of the road, however i have made it my habit to run for over next 100 meters, on the white line that separates the two roads. At that time usually, i find one or two cars pass by. I usually see four buses of soldiers crossing me , as i continue running.
A middle aged man, with two dogs, are the next part of the scene. I find them daily somewhere in this part of my morning run. We both nod at each other. I prefer to remain at a distance from the dogs, as we cross by, because i always consider the dogs untrustful. Nobody can guarantee as to when a dog stop barking and start biting. So my negative feelings about the dogs are well known. Even those two particular dogs know that. The keep on barking at me, from the moment they see me. Thats their way of expressing their displeasure. I build a distance away from them, to express my displeasure for them. I have no other way to express that because i cannot bark like them. After that, its a long long straight road, for about a kilometer. Theres a market on my left side, which i usually find closed at that time. The two bunches of morning newspapers being put in front of the market, are the part of the scene.
On the opposite side of the road i usually find two young girls, who usually wait for each other at that spot. At times i see them walking along, towards the next round about of the road.
As i reach the next round about, the labourers on the ongoing construction work, on the left side of the road, usually start arriving. I can see the tiredness in the eyes of the night watchman, who usually remain busy in packing up his bag. By the round about, i see an another man waiting for his early bus. Just over there, i carefully look at the clock. It usually takes me 20...25 minutes to reach that stop. That very automatic clock by the side of the road, tells me if i ran more and walked less or otherwise. The time in that clock is my performance meter, that measures my performance of the day.
I cross the road, walking, and restart running in the greenfield, as i try to reach my office through the shortcut. A short distance of about a hundred meters, and i reach the open carpeted road where a couple of long trucks remain parked. Within next two or three minutes, i find myself just in front of the door of my workplace.
An another morning run has ended. Was it a run or what? What do you think.
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