FRESH STARTS

I got up early today to do the bins. For some reason, I can't ever quite seem to get them out the night before.

So I threw on jeans and a hoodie, slipped into my trainers, and headed out into the fresh, morning air.

My legs were stiff from the gym yesterday. I'd done kettle-bell squats, leg press, and, even though I was a little wobbly, I'd tried sprinting a kilometre on the treadmill. The horror of that was all coming back to my muscles as I rattled the wheelie bin across the tarmac.

It had rained over night, but the air was fresh and clean. I breathed in the cold, shoved my hands delightfully into my warm pockets, and decided to go for an early morning walk.

The park was dripping. It's the time of year when the leaves are golden green, and even before the sun is fully awake, the trees shimmer with colour. I walked through the leafy tunnel, between the heavy drops of water that fell from the singing canopies. I was praying, and contemplating.

"Morning," said a dog-walker.

"Alright," I replied.

I'm not up-to-speed with the morning dog-walkers' patter. It's nice that they say good morning, but the correct response to 'morning' at that time of day is obviously, 'morning' and not 'alright'. Mirrored behaviour - it makes people feel everything is going to be okay for the rest of the day.

In the afternoon, it would be weird to say 'afternoon' to someone in the park, I think. It's strange how that doesn't happen. And if you just say 'alright' to someone later in the day, they start worrying that they're supposed to know you. They might chuckle nervously, they might say 'alright' back to you, knowingly, despite not knowing you at all and then spend the next five minutes frantically trying to remember how they know you.

I don't like worrying people.

And at night? If you say 'goodnight' to a stranger in the park at night, I think you might end up getting arrested. Mind you, I don't tend to walk in the park at night; it's probably fine but it's not exactly well lit.

I haven't done early mornings for a while. That's another consequence of working from home - the commute was so useful for thinking and praying and writing. I've got into the habit of rolling into work just metres from my duvet. I think perhaps I should get back into the pattern of fresh starts and early mornings. It'll do me good - so long as the treadmill doesn't turn my legs to jelly, that is.