Yet still I run…
Posted in Ramblings on July 17, 2012 by rwaters8
Yet still I run…
…The cold air of this winters morning fills my lungs and grabs hold of my breath hard. It is as if the air is trying to steal my breath from within my chest, yet still I run…
The sun was slowly getting ready to start her journey across the sky; she raised her orange head above horizons edge and from my window I could see her getting ready. I too was readying myself for the day.
I travelled down the elevator into the foyer and being early morning the only others I saw were the two garbage men outside clearing the waste of yesterday and the bleary eyed young woman behind the desk at reception. “Good morning sir” she said, “good morning Sue” I reply, she looked puzzled that I would know her name; I knew it was early, and I know she would eventually realize that I was reading her name tag.
I set off on my run down Phillip St and through Martin Place and at that hour Channel 7 were starting their aptly named early morning show ‘Sunrise’. Do I or don’t I? I thought about sticking around and seeing if I could get my head on TV through the window behind the reporters, but it was cold and I didn’t want to cool down too much so I continued my run.
Following the building traffic down another city street, the view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge greets me as I round the corner. What a pretty place this Sydney is; I sometimes wonder, if the people who are riding the busses or the ones in their cars or the people on their bikes navigating the traffic, ever take the time to realize just how pretty she is..
It’s at the end of this street and under the expressway that I found myself at the waters edge looking out across the water at the bridge. It was then I realized that beneath all of this concrete and under all the steel that surrounds this part of Sydney Harbour lays the land where the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation call home. Across to the right I followed the path and came to a place where I could see the Sydney Opera House shining in the morning sun, it sat almost majestic in the dawn, and it sat on a piece of land that was apparently given to and named after an Eora man, a piece of land that he did not own, a piece of land that, in his ways owned him… Bennelong Point.
On my phone I capture an image of the suns orange and red rays fighting off the last of the early morning darkness and when I reach the other side of the Opera House I head up the path to the Royal Botanic Gardens. Like an invisible wall I am met by the strong wind and it is here that the cold air of this winters morning fills my lungs and grabs hold of my breath hard. It is as if the air is trying to steal my breath from within my chest, yet still I run…
