Summer Sunrise Club
I’m new to the Summer Sunrise Club, but it only took a few breezy dawns to feel reborn an early bird.
The decision to set the alarm for 5:45am was made from necessity. My cockapoo dog Ocho has thick black fur and struggles in the heat. She’s a New York City girl at heart, and the move to Dallas, Texas was a shock to her senses. Last week at the start of June we tried to walk at our usual 8am timeslot and she grew nauseous and collapsed onto the grass. And this was after a fresh haircut. It was dramatic, and I got the message.
“Oh poor me,” I thought, calculating my upcoming sleep sacrifice to give Ocho any summertime nature exercise. Our proximity to our local White Rock Lake was a motivator – by car we can be there within one sleepy radio song. I accepted the early morning as our only viable option and committed to try it for one week. Luckily, on day one I got a glimpse of how glorious this new routine could be.
On that first morning, I discovered it’s easier to wake up at 5:45am than it is at 8am. Fifteen minutes later with iced coffee in-hand, we were parked and ready to explore the mysterious low-light hour. I was ready to power walk the track that surrounds the lake, but Ocho had other plans and took me to a bench. She settled into my lap right as the clouds on the horizon lit up every shade of pink. I gasped, immediately fixated on the expanding palette of warm colors. And then the sun rose. Its beauty literally took my breath away. Neon red, the glow spread to the lake below, changing the gliding ducks and cranes from shadowy outlines to dimensional figures. I teared up, and without knowing it began a daily tradition with Ocho to sit and watch the sunrise together in silence. No talking, no electronics. Just the soft hum of the animals and a moment of reflection as another day – another mini life – starts again.
I soon realized that this outing is not about power walking or hustling. We’re both a little sleepy and, without trying, can indulge in slow paced movements akin to exiting a long massage or bath. We anoint the day with effortless calm and stillness, honoring the celestial beauty of a small lake’s sunrise with our full attention.
Seven days in, our trips to the lake follow a routine. Once the sunrise becomes too bright to focus on, Ocho and I finally hit the track. We delight in the positive vibes of the other early risers. They are mostly fit runners and cyclists, but as the hour passes more and more laissez-faire walkers and dogs hit the scene. The breeze is still cool, offering a bit of time travel to the milder seasons of Spring and Fall. It’s a joyous energy at the top of the day, and I am hooked.
Ocho always takes me to the car when the sun changes from red to yellow and projects its warm rays. By then I have sunspots in my eyes blurring my vision because I just can’t look away from that sunrise. My favorite part of the day ends with my top priority for Ocho already completed. Just one more three-minute drive with the windows all the way down, then it’s back to the sobering reality of air-conditioned cabin fever.
This first act of the day has a certain priority and intention to it, just by being first. To start the day with love, both for myself and for my dog Ocho, has a special ring to it. How is it possible that I fell more in love with her? How is it possible that I’m now waking up before my alarm? And beyond that sunrise that takes my breath away, beyond the slowed-down time spent with my girl, the best surprise is learning something new about life, about yourself. Even as middle age settles in for a while.
If you live near Dallas, perhaps you’ll see us one morning at White Rock Lake. The Summer Sunrise Club is accepting new members and there is no judgement for bedhead.
Ocho at White Rock Lake