To run or not to run. It is Sunday morning. Blue sky outside the windows of the hotel. Just before 8. Ok, run. I take the running shoes, running clothes, my heartbeat monitoring, the GPS watch which will draw a path on a Google Map later on.
The first few metres are chilly. The legs feel the cold. The lungs hurt a bit. It will get better in few minutes. I reach the Tower Bridge, run down the stairs and I am on the walk along the river. I decide to go east, towards Southbank.
It all look empty. I see two Asian tourists, maybe Japanese who walk dressed in winter clothes. They may be jet lagged as I am. I look at the watch to choose the pace. it is 6:15 min/km now. I slow down a bit while I get warmer. I pass next to the Town Hall building made of glass and looking as a reverse shell. Start to get into my thoughts and pick up random images. My rhythm is now nice and steady. Feel warmer and am happy I decided to take this run after a month or so. Bars and coffee shops are opening. Waiters prepare tables that will be later filled by tourists and Londoners enjoying the sun. Two guys talk loudly to to each other and over the music they listen in their headphones while the clean the floor in front of a cafe. I see a family of four near the Shakespeare theatre. Two kids between eight or ten walking in front of the parents. He is in his mid forties and helps his wife in her later thirties who cannot walk well. She seem to be recovering from a stroke at her young age. She wears jeans, comfortable jogging shoes. She has short blonde hairs with nice colourful hair clips and sun glasses. They enjoy the sun and the nice morning battling the change in their life.
I see other runners. Some alone. A couple racing for a sprint with red cheeks and happiness for the effort. A man with a dog. A German couple passes on my right hand side on their runner blades. She seem to be learning, while he moves effortlessly. He goes a bit head and then waits for her. Then again ahead and then waits for her once more. We are the Tate Modern. I pass another couple walking at a fats pace, kind of power walking. He is tall, short brown hairs and beard. Glasses. She is the one doing the talking and she talks as fats as she walks.They seem Swedish. He replies at short interval saying ‘jo’. While I pass next to them I hear him saying ‘jo’ at least six times.
I am on my way back to the bridge. I pass Tracey Thorn who is running toward the London Eye. She looks down on the pavement. I am thinking about listening to her music in Dumaguete, 9600 km from here. Then getting up this morning to go for a run. She, doing the same thing. And now being on this walk path along the river Thames at the same time.