A seven o'clock wake up ring would seem late any other time. After just under six hours of sleep and roughly the same the night before on a plane, “completely rested” falls short of a good descriptor. Nonetheless, running shoes had to be strapped on along with other staples like a stopwatch, MP3 player and the newest addition to my running ensemble, an ID bracelet. Just for fun the hotel name and address were ripped from an envelope and tucked into a key holder laced on top of shoes, a little something that comes with age and experience.
All geared up, it was time to head out into the lively streets of Marrakech. Alive indeed! Bland brown walls bordered the narrow street, which looked more like an alley. Left seemed as good as any direction, especially without a plan or knowing anything about the locale. A stream of women walked purposefully, perhaps to the market or square, and both held appeal to me. Along the way, just as in cities, towns and villages all over the globe, bakers prepared and delivered daily bread during the early morning hour.
A boys’ soccer team out for a run moved stealthily on the opposite side of the road. Cars, taxis, busses, donkeys, bikes, scooters and pedestrians jockeyed for space in the crowded lanes, reserved for the bold. Even with special attention given to each twist and turn of the route, a slight bend managed to go unnoticed on the return trip, adding more than half a mile to the run, along with welcome sights and pleasant memories.
Safe and sweaty delight reigned upon my return to the hotel. Time to shower and get ready for round two of Marrakech.
Tom
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