Monday, January 9


In darkness I ride out of my neighborhood. Out on Ridge Road I catch the first sparks of sunrise over my shoulder, separating the land from the sky in a fiery line.

Most mornings the air is clear and the orange, yellow, red and pink clouds are a surreal backdrop to my journey. I continue on through Applewood and into Golden, and at some point there is invariably a moment when the quality of red light in the sky and the arid land around me makes it hard not to imagine I'm riding across the Martian landscape.

I enjoy my morning commutes because they take place during a time of waking, a time when the earth is changing from night to day, and a time of quiet and solitude.

Even when it's cold, my morning rides make me long for more commute and less work.

I should get up early more often on the weekends and go for sunrise rides or walks. When I was a teenager I remember someone talking about how special and amazing sunrises were and how much more rewarding it was to make an effort to wake early and watch the sun climb over the horizon.

And it is so true. Anyone can catch a sunset. There's nothing less visually amazing about sunsets, but the experience of watching or seeing a sunrise is different. Its something you own, something that is rarely shared and more often experienced alone, burned into the brain-matter in such a way as to quell the ability to articulate the memory.

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