I tried my best not to think it, feel it, say it this morning as I took my sunrise run in Costa Rica. My last sunrise run in Costa Rica.
“This will be my last run before we have to leave Costa Rica.”
It was a sad thought.
Instead I should remember the past 14 sunrise runs in Costa Rica. How the sun rises slowly over the lush mountains – how it turns the gray sky to a light white, then brilliant pink before changing the night sky from gray to blue. How the moon still rises over the Pacific this early in the morning and how I watch it fall into the sea as I run to the north. How the monkeys wake at five in the morning as I start my run along our muddy road. How they seem to call to me as I travel towards the beach, and I now expect to hear them. How the driftwood on the beach piled up from the high-tide the night before and new shells have arrived. How I looked for baby turtle trails from perhaps a midnight hatch. How a few others joined me at the beach each morning. Some with coffee and their dogs. Some with surfboards to catch the first waves of the day. How we all greeted each other and became friends and how we all became as expected as the sunrise.
So I tried to run with more care this morning. I noticed even more shells and smiled longer at each person I passed. I stopped to throw a stick into the waves for the one brown dog that always ran right across my path each morning. I talked with his owner and wished her a good day. The sun came out without a cloud surrounding it and as the humidity built, a fog formed over the waves and the shore was masked from my view as I ran now south into the sunlight. My face was warmed from the new day starting and instead of sadness I felt content with the now. With my run. With the beauty of our trip to Costa Rica.
And I wasn’t sad because this will not be my last run ever on Playa Guiones. No, these were just my first 14.