Column | Morning and me, nice run

I run through the riverbed where the morning mist still remains. As I feel my body, stiff from a deep sleep, begin to melt, the only sounds echoing in my empty head are the chirps of the birds and my own breathing. Before the world starts to move, I tighten the laces of my running shoes and start running. I objectively mutter to myself, "You did well... today too," but I also want to praise myself a little.

I pass many runners who are out of breath like me. Unlike a marathon, in this morning space, everyone is more free, enjoying "running" for their own purposes, or gritting their teeth, everyone is different. So I don't feel anything when I get overtaken. Rather, I want to give them a "nice run." The people who "run" give me the outline of "myself" running today, like a mirror. In these mornings, loosely connected by "running," the hope of the world is overflowing.

"Nice run!"

To that person running somewhere today, to the runner I just passed, and to myself, who will continue to run tomorrow as usual.