Morning Light on the City

In the dark of the morning, in the cold of early autumn, the wind of the lake is cold. The wind of the lake is cold, but for the people converging on the city today it is barely a thing to notice. This is race day.

Today is race day, and we have been here before, in the dark, in the wind, in the cold. Some days it has been almost unbearable. But this morning, only the stars are in the still-night sky. The clouds that moved in yesterday have blown away. This is race day, and the sun will be coming up soon.

The sun will be coming up soon, I whisper to my boy. We look out over the lake, at the growing light in the east. And then I point to the west. Remember this, I tell him. Watch it come.

Remember the coming of the day, before the race, with the tens of thousands of runners lined up behind the starting line. Watch the morning come after you watch us go. Watch it hit the city standing at the edge of the lake. Stand here just a few minutes longer. Before you turn to seek out warmth, stop a moment and watch the dawning day as the red sun rises and throws a rosy glow on the city's skyline.

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