I wish I could tell you for sure how cold it is in the morning when I run, but these days it takes me so long to pull myself out of bed and convince myself to put on my running clothes, that I'm in too much of a hurry to walk across the parking lot to check the temperature on my parents' thermometer. How's that for a long sentence?
I should probably be more scared of things here, but the thing that scares me the most on my runs is the crazy dogs who inhabit this town. There are the scary dogs who wait until you are right in front the gate, and then bark and lunge, but those are the least scary, considering they are still behind a gate. The worst ones are the street dogs, who insist on following me, barking at me, and trying to attack/make love to Lucy.
So I've always had the habit of carrying rocks in my hands. Now, most animal lovers would agree that this is a horrible practice and I shouldn't be able to own pets because of this. But, when it's the dog or my ankle (and I've had a few come very close to my ankles), the ankle wins, and my arm lodges a rock straight at that dog. The beautiful thing, however, is that usually all you have to do is raise your arm to a dog, and they get the picture. Trained, they are.
The sunrise was beautiful this morning, and I was listening to Switchfoot sing "In this life, You're the one place I call home. In this life, You're the feeling I belong", and it was wonderful.