On an afternoon drive we stopped to talk with a local farmer. In the distance I could hear the jingle jangle of bells. It came as a surprise to see about fifty sheep come around the corner. A fleeting moment.
Yellow flashy Usain Bolt-esque runners tied and I’m out the door before the morning sun peaks over the mountain-tops. Florence & The Machine rage in my ears as I begin my warm-up. Herds of cow, horse and sheep meander on the lightly dew dropped mountain searching for their mornings feast.
I am a morning runner, therefore I run.
The mountain pulls me down her slight decline for three kilometers. The salt water breeze kisses my face and I run head on into its morning freshness.
This is how I start my mornings four times a week. Every week, summer excluded.
My turn around point is a small parking area for those wishing to text, chat or play games on their mobile devices, take a pee or watch the stunning panoramic view of the Bay of Asinara.
I used to stop and take in the view, watch the ocean crash in on this stunning island oasis. However, I’ve become stronger in my runs and want to continue on.
Three years ago today I boarded flight #16. Toronto to Rome. From Rome I boarded another flight to my home, Sardegna. I can’t believe three years have already passed. It seems just like yesterday I was kissing my loved ones good-bye. The person I was then is not the same person I am now. I have grown-up. My life far and different from those I left. Continue reading →