The Morning belongs to the athletes

Early morning impressions

I woke up early. Not on purpose. It just happened. Around three, I was simply awake. A deep, full sleep behind me, and the impulse to get up didn’t come from my mind – it came from the body.

At 4:30 I stepped outside. The promenade lay ahead like a blank page. Da Nang was slowly waking up, fading gently into the day. No honking, no crowds, no noise. The air was soft. The light not yet there. Just a few distant motorbikes. Maybe 0.3 on the light-on scale. I love this moment.

Some people were already out. Silhouettes walking. Some already in the water. Stretching, slow gymnastics. A few paddleboards were being inflated. I wasn’t the first early bird in Da Nang today.

At the temple, where I usually turn around, I kept walking. The pavement changed – new tiles, new colors. Beige, soft pink, grey. A stretch I had never walked before.

Just minutes later I found myself in the middle of a scene: Fishermen. Boats. Buckets. Compressors. Men unloading their catch. Hissing, clattering, shouting, dripping. I could smell salt and metal and early life.

A little further – there she was: Lady Buddha. Lit from below. Standing still, high above it all. I stopped and watched as the light began to rise. The scale climbed to 1.45. The horizon began to glow.

Then came the cyclists. One. Two. Then groups. Riding up toward Son Tra. Bodies in motion. Focused faces. The road belonged to them. No honking. No cars. Just them and the early grey. I felt a little envy – the good kind. I walked. They rode. We were all on our way.

Around 5:30 a question rose inside me: Coffee? Now? Later? Salted coffee at the stand? Or 3:1 instant – cheap but okay – in a real glass? A guardian voice stirred in me – the one that watches when it comes to pleasure. Old patterns. But I was clear. I chose: 3:1 now. Salted coffee later. With grace. In a café.

Back at the hotel. Showered. Looking out from the 4th floor. The man set up his coffee stand. Quiet. Steady. Like every day. And I realized: That too is part of the morning.

At 7:12 I sat in the café. The premium seat on the leather couch was free. Empty. Quiet. The digital nomads still asleep. And me? I sat. With my coffee. With my body. With my morning.

The morning belongs to the athletes.
But I am here too. And that is enough.

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