Thanks for the Sunrise Run


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Is it Thanksgiving this week? You’d never know from here.

I‘m writing this entry while sitting in a pretty green Airbus A320. As far as I can see, the crew is doing a fantastic job of keeping this thing level as we cross the English Channel and return to one of my favorite planetary lily pads. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in America, although with all of my foolish travel I would hardly stop to realize that a big eating event was on tap for this week. What can I say? As you get older, you get forgetful- and lucky for me I can rely on the Series of Tubes to keep me an honest American when it comes to marking significant cultural dates. And yes, I am horrible when it comes to recalling dates, days of the week, and how to spell my middle name…

So it’s Thanksgiving, and as your typical European-blooded American, I’m going to take this opportunity to make remarks that have nothing to do with democide or the reversal of fortune that came with my forefathers moving to the New World and supplanting the indigenous population. After all, running blog entries should be like easy listening radio, and that’s exactly what this entry is going to contain.

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I’m grateful for each morning that I get to wake up. Especially when I get to take in sights like this.

I step outside and had planned to do a short run along the promenade of Bray town. It’s still pretty dark outside and I don’t know the area that well- which always makes a sensible case to stick with one’s familiar surroundings. My friends had made casual mention of an existing cliff walk that connects a neighboring town, but I never expected to be on it that morning. 

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I didn’t know where the trail began, or how I even came upon it- but all of a sudden I was up on the side of the hill and negotiating angle-twisitng rocks and rain puddles that only got more interesting the further I moved up the trail.

And so me being magnetically drawn to this new trail leads me to say something else in honor of the holiday: I‘m thankful for getting divorced. I know that sounds darkly inappropriate- and probably something that you’d expect to hear from your aunt after too many glasses of Yellow Tail at the Thanksgiving table- but I can tell you in complete sobriety that I say this with no malice or sarcasm. Marriage is totally great- it’s just that I am thankful for the chance to start again on a path that has thus far taken me to so many new and cool places that I couldn’t have otherwise seen. 

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Although the sun is approaching the horizon, it’s still pretty shadowy- and potentially treacherous. Both of these factors make me want to continue forward and see what’s in store up ahead.

I guess I’ll expand upon this line of thought and say that what I’m really thankful for is options. Most Americans live in a Burger King theater of reality, and I appreciate each day where I can milk this privilege just a little bit more. Unlike those stupid Choose Your Own Adventure books, any less-than-advisable choices won’t condemn me to death at Chapter Two, and instead I am mercifully guided towards a new route with new possibilities. I’m totally grateful for that. 

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Down below me, I can hear the DART rumbling as it ferries life along a more direct and expeditious route.

I’m also grateful for my health. It seems as though the older I get, the more I am acutely aware of the fact that a working body is a ridiculously precious gift. It’s great that I am able to cure a hangover by setting on a blood-pumping morning run on Bray Head, but it’s easy to forget that small things like this are luxuries that not everyone can enjoy.

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Looks like something is trying to make its big appearance. I feel like sunrise has been set on slo-mo for me this morning, and I’m enjoying every turn in the footpath that yields a slightly different ocean view.

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I’m straddling two towns now- Bray and Greystones. If I didn’t have stuff that needed to be done this morning, I’d totally press on towards the next town. I turn back here and decide to leave Greystones for a return visit.

I don’t think of myself as a thrill-seeker, but I am thankful that I do harbor some sense of adventure- which in reality might actually just be blissful ignorance. Whatever the case, this habit has gotten me out here on this chilly façade on the east coast of Ireland- and the payoff is quite fantastic. It would seem to me that so long as we are all pushing ourselves a bit out of our comfort zones, then we’re still growing and becoming better people. At least I hope so, cuz it’s fricking cold up here if you stop and just stand still for awhile.

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I’ve got to head back to the hotel before people start to wonder what happened to me, but not before I find some random stairs leading to cool-looking nowhere places. I wonder what this house was used for, or if people actually lived up here.

I’m thankful for the fact that wherever I go, I can find someone who will take me in or help me out when I’ve become woefully misdirected. I mean, how often have we all found ourselves turned around in an unfamiliar place- yet feel a sense of twisted trepidation because we want help, but don’t exactly want to reach out and ask. I personally have enormous trouble getting over my ego and asking for assistance, so it is with this in mind that I am so grateful for people who come along anyway and right my course.

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The light is getting better, and I even pass two guys who are out on their own sunrise run. We nod a hello and continue forward, and I can’t help but feel like we’re all in on a great secret: running first thing in the morning. You get so much done in your head at this time of day.

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Behold Bray town with bonus views of Howth Head, Dalkey Island, Killiney and the Dublin Mountains just to my left. How lucky do I feel to be right here and right now?

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I get back down by the beach again, and at last the sun has woken up. I’m a bit short on time but do head into a shop to pick up some coffee and scones for a perfect post-run Irish breakfast, Megan-style.

I’m really thankful for scones, by the way. But really only if they’re consumed around these parts. I wouldn’t know about how great the food could be over here if I didn’t have such great reference points with which to guide me….

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Behold my reference points, my moral compass and my compass for morale: My Friends. I’m so thankful for all of these crazy people, no matter where I catch up with them around this earth. And it’s not simply because each of them serve as locals who know about amazing running trails, great places to find good eats and great craic. They are the people who make all of these life experiences worth trying out, and they comprise 50% of the people who encourage me when I’m doubting myself or my crazy life plans.

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And finally, the other 50% of the people in my life: I’m grateful for my family, and all of the shades of experience that life puts us through collectively. Even when we’re yelling at each other as many a Turkey Rumble offered up in days of yore, I’m still thankful to have them around and looking out for me. Even if this particular one didn’t get out of bed to join me on my morning run.

I could probably keep going on, but I figure you’d rather be thankful that I know when to shut up and just eat my turkey. It’s certainly not a bad day for it- especially now that my plane has landed and I’ll be among good friends to mark this American tradition. I hope you get to do the same.