6:30am Run Through Brickfields

It’s morning Your eyes are bleary, body still asleep. You get out of bed, but the cat whines for you to come and pet her. You sit back down. So comfortable... Do I really want to go running NOW? It’s so dark out still. But then you think of the 150 lb monkey that accompanies you when you wait until 8am to run under the humid sunny skies of KL. You put you put your running clothes on. Your shoes. You decide that this morning you’ll run in your neighborhood, instead of crossing town to the nice modern park. Yes, your neighborhood… in all it’s “colorful” glory.

So, out the door and down the elevator you go. Azlan follows you to the door, as if to say, don’t go! That fat kitty could use to go for a run himself you think. Down the elevator, you hear the kids playing before the doors open. In the lobby they wait with their mothers for their school bus. The guards greet you with a smile and a “Selamat Pagi!” Surprisingly, it was only yesterday that they learned that you can speak Malay. Out the front door. The construction site across the street is still quiet, though the workers are slowly rising. Lucky for you they’re either too tired to harass you with cat calls like they usually do, or your music is turned up so loud you don’t notice it anyway. You run along below the monorail track, your legs whining in their stiffness, complaining it’s just too early. You ignore them. Push on. On the corner the school for the blind is starting to show some signs of life. Two guys with canes come wandering around the corner. You’re convinced that they are blessed by Allah, the way they walk down the middle of the street and manage to not get hit. Dressed in their traditional Muslim attire, you figure they must be convinced of this too. You say good morning, and keep moving. On the next corner, in what could scarcely be called a shack, a nice little old man starts preparing food. This shack is a favorite haunt for breakfast of laborers, business people, and students alike. All made by this man who gives you a kindly smile every time you pass by, which must be about 10 times a day. The school bus passes you, full of Indian children who all attend the school around the corner. Onward you go, it’s still dark, legs are warming up now though, and you lengthen your stride a bit. On the right, you pass a very small surau (mosque). Inside, under a harsh flouescent light, a handful of men are kneeling down on the spotless white tile floor, completing their first prayers of the day. One block further, the Hindu caretaker is sweeping out his small temple. He nearly hits you with one of the rugs he’s flinging out the door. He smiles sheepishly and you do the same. Onward you go. Now you pass the breakfast stalls. Six or seven of them, beginning to fill up with the Indian expats who live in the building next door. Dressed in their tidy business clothes, they are mostly headed off to their jobs in the IT industry. They look at you, and you figure that they probably think you’re crazy. That’s okay, wouldn’t be the first time. Further along, you pass the Methodist church. It’s pews are completely full and the Indian minister in his bright purple robe is giving a spirited sermon. Agama (religion) you think, is very strong here, no matter what the religion.

You push on, turn the corner onto the main road. You keep dodging the holes in the sidewalk as you pass the restaurant store fronts that are busily serving their patrons. It’s still dark. You start getting your second wind, and you smile, glad that you pushed your arse out of bed. You almost don’t see the old woman sitting amidst the stack of newspapers that she will try to sell this morning. You say “Selamat Pagi!” and a smile lights up her weathered face. You’re not sure if she’s smiling, or laughing at you, but it bringing a smile to you face just the same. You cross under the monorail tracks for the second time. Pass a bus stop, and 10 people, Malay, Chinese, and Indian. All waiting for their bus, and mostly not quite awake yet. The sky above you is starting to lighten. Though it’s still dark, sweat is pouring down your face. It’s been awhile since you’ve run this far. It feels good, though your legs are wishing you’d stop. Just a bit further you tell yourself. You focus on the YMCA as your next landmark. And push right past it. You think how hard it was to wake up this morning, but you think it was worth it. You’re glad you have an able healthy body and the chance to get up and do this before moving on with your work today. You know you’ll be more productive when you sit down to start writing. You’re glad you got the chance to see the world wake up, instead of just going to a park like you normally would. You round another corner, pass more food stalls. More people looking at you like you’re crazy. You head down a small side street, pass another Hindu temple, this one dominated by large green statue of the Elephant God Ganesha. At long last, you spot the very large Hindu temple that is across from your building. Behind it, the sun is rising. You smile, slow yourself to a walk, drenched in sweat, but grinning ear to ear. You think about your colorful neighborhood. And the whole world you saw this morning. So different from the world after the sun rises. You hated getting out of bed, but you loved waking up.