It's Amazing What You Notice

 It's amazing what you notice when you're up before the rest of the world and everything is a little quieter. 

The way the rooster crows when it sees your chest lamp because he thinks it's time to start the day. When really, there's about an hour left to sleep. 

You see the family of deer that startle and scatter when you run by - both of you are surprised to see the other. You were expecting to be alone.

You hear the click and hum of the electric fence, or at least you try to. You consciously try to quiet your breathing so that you can hear the steady hum. You barely hear it as you breathe heavily, your body straining with the effort of running uphill. But you catch it on the way back - even with the sun up and the birds now loudly chirping, you hear the fences' click-click-click, keeping the rhythm as you run. 

As you continue on, it's always fascinating how the light hits differently based on whether the car comes from behind you or in front of you. When they come from up ahead, you see them off in the distance until the beam grows closer and then you have to squint and avoid looking directly into them. But when they come behind you, it's almost like they cast a shadow on the horizon that gradually grows closer until your lights converge as one. And then as they zoom past, the quiet returns and your chest lamp shines alone into the darkness. 

As you take the turn out into more open spaces, you are greeted by the beginning of a beautiful sunrise. You've seen almost this exact view before, and yet, you instinctively think, "it looks just like this year's NAZ Elite kit." 

You see the field on your right and reflexively think "ground beef" as you see all the cows laying down. You roll your eyes at yourself and laugh, knowing just how corny you are. 

It isn't until the way back that you see that the farm on your right does still have the donkeys out. It's just that they're all huddles close to their little food shed. Again, instinctively, in the voice of that guy from Encanto, you say to yourself, "Luisa, the donkeys got out again." 

As you continue along, getting closer and closer to home, your mind begins to wander. Anywhere from the way you run in and out of colder and warmer pockets of air, sensing those small differences more than you do at any other time of the day. 

Going past the same scenery, everything is different now that the world is a little more awake now. The cows that were sleeping when you first ran by are now feeding at the fence line, staring you down as you run past. You wave at them with a goofy grin plastered on your face, keenly aware of how ridiculous you look. You just don't care.

I'm so grateful for these quiet moments before the rest of the world wakes up - especially for time before my toddler wakes up and the responsibilities and frustrations of a new day hit me head on. 

When you get home, life will get loud again and you'll notice much less. Don't beat yourself up for this; just embrace and celebrate all the quiet moments you do have. All those brief chances to slow down and appreciate all the small and simple joys of this wild and crazy life.

Yes, it's amazing what you notice when the whole world is a little quieter.