Good Morning

A peek through the curtain revealed an 8 o'clock that was cool and mild, if a little gray, not the kind of morning you'd expect to see on a summer's day. Just perfect for running, so I slipped into my running pants and put on my running shoes, did some warm-up, turned on Robyn's "Cobrastyle" and prodded my legs into action.

I met a white man walking his dog (a very handsome husky--though I can't really be sure if it was male). The man said "good morning," and I said "good morning," back. Before that, he had greeted other joggers, which assured me that his having greeted me was in no way out of the ordinary. The thing with us, Pinoys, is that we like going our own way. I, for one, certainly wouldn't have thought of saying hello to a stranger, just because. Which is sad, come to think of it.

I jogged through the streets of the village, willing the sweat to come, pushing away the negative vibes, exorcising the morose thoughts. I ordered my mind to focus on the peacefulness of the morning. I felt thankful to be alive. With each swing, I tried to count my blessings. I took deep breaths. I ran, and ran, and ran.

It was the perfect way to jump start my morning. As I was eating breakfast, I felt mighty glad thinking that it had given me the energy to do things for the day--do some cleaning, perhaps, or re-organize my closet.

And now I am in front of the PC, hopping from my blog to my Facebook.