It will happen one day. But probably not any time soon.
Do the run to Rushcutter's and back without taking a photo of the boats on the water, I mean. It's the sight of them bobbing gracefully on the water at such close proximity to me, slightly puffed out and sweaty from the stop start choppiness that is trying to run on a golden Friday afternoon. The sun makes them glitter a little and the slight haze makes them look otherworldly. And then there's the gentle clunking they make as the waves prod them this way and that. It's a close to perfect way to start the weekend.
|No running on water this time...|
The good news is that Map My Run was startlingly accurate this time around. The not so good news it that I didn't run that far or that fast.
Running's almost painless when you're doing it outdoors with the trees and their shade to keep you cool and some soft sunlight lighting your path.
And to think that I willingly start up a treadmill at the gym, stare at its screens and push its buttons with such grim determination when I could be running here...
The noise and impatient hustle of the city is only a few hundred metres away but the trees buffer it with a stately and steady competence. That's what I think of when I look up at their branches - stately and steady, lungs and walls, citizens of our city that we can't afford to lose anymore of.
Today's been another joyful exploration of colour and light.
The beacon of light that is the only cafe up and running when you get to the shopping centre before nine.
The vivid red and deep blue logo on the cups from said, lifesaving cafe.
The shimmering, opalescent mosaic of the bench outside the library where we sat for a while.
Colour and light. They are with us every day yet we often don't have the time to mull over their complexities and the way pondering them makes us feel.