Tag: pre-dawn

Posted in noticing

Surprised by Silence: The E-Bike Encounter

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I didn’t hear him coming up behind me. I jumped as the e-bike sped by my right side, just a few feet away. Neither the motor nor the tires on the street made a sound. With no lights or reflectors, the rider disappeared into the predawn darkness.

It was early Sunday, so no one was on the way to work. No trash trucks or school busses making the rounds. No kids on electric scooters on the way to school. We turned the clocks ahead for daylight savings time, so even the sun wouldn’t be up for another hour. Who’s going to be out on a bike?

It could have been someone on their way home after a party that lasted till dawn. Or the guy who has to open up the fast food restaurant. Someone who’s car broke down? Worship team member on their way to warm-up? Couldn’t sleep, so they went for a ride?

I don’t get caught off guard like that very often. I like to think I’ve got good situational awareness. I usually notice what’s going on around me. My dog catches what I miss. She usually smells who’s coming before we catch sight of anyone. But this guy surprised both of us.

I don’t like to be surprised like that. But I do like the challenge of being more aware of what’s going on around me.

Posted in Life, walking

Intense walking and talking

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Image by Susanne from Pixabay

Every morning as I’m walking my dog, I pass a woman walking her dog. She’s memorable because she zig-zags down the street. She walks from one side to the other, effectively doubling the distance they walk each day. She’s also talking to someone every morning through her AirPods.

It’s dark at this time of the year when we pass each other at 6:30 in the morning. My Great Dane shows no interest in her Schnauzer-ish dog, and he’s not interested in us, either. But she always says, “Good morning” to me. I always reply, but she doesn’t always hear me, because someone else’s voice is in her ear. So she’ll turn up the volume and repeat, “Good morning,” and I’ll repeat my reply.

Who does she talk to every morning? I picture someone else, a sister or child walking their dog at the same time, catching up on whatever happened since yesterday. I imagine it to be someone in Eastern Standard Time, since everyone else would still be asleep. But maybe it’s a friend in Europe, where it’s at least six hours later.

By the tone of her voice, it’s intense. A serious conversation. No nonsense. Almost aggressive.

I talk to God and the big dog when I walk. My words are upbeat, light-hearted, and at times, silly. (When you’re talking to a goofy Great Dane, it’s easy to be silly.) I have never had an early morning phone conversation. I don’t know who I’d call. All my friends are still sensibly sleeping at that time of the day.