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Although I packed and carried my running gear (shoes, pants, heart rate belt, the whole thing) all the way from Romania, I confess I was a bit slow to actually do some running since I got to Valencia, more than a week ago.

Reasons? There are a lot.

For starters, the first 4 days here I literally felt under siege. If you don't remember, I got here in the middle of the Fallas, a Valencian festival in which people are having fun with explosives. Like, you know, literally. The little awareness you may have left during the day - after nights spent in convulsions with the blanket all over your head, trying to escape the incessant noise - is used to avoid all those small, innocent kids throwing explosives around, under the kind and protective supervision of their parents, who, more often than not, are joining in, just to show them how it's done. Using adult sized explosives, obviously. The kind that you feel deep down to your kidneys. Not very conducive to running, I'd say.

And then there are all the tapas, paellas, craft beers and sangrias I had to test. Another tough job, believe me. It's hard to turn your head around in Valencia and not notice some bocateria, tagliatelleria, paneria or other place of temptation.

But, enough is enough.

This morning I decided to actually do some running.

I arranged all my running gear during the previous evening - a trick I learned when I started to run, more than 5 years ago: if you minimize the thinking you have to do in the morning, being it just the mere search for your running gear, the chances to actually get out and run are increasing tenfold.

So, after I heard the alarm clock ringing, knowing that it's already 6 AM, I made a super human effort to maintain my eyes open for more than 10 seconds. I think I managed to get to this after the fourteenth attempt.

Next thing I know: it's already 7 AM.

I jumped from the bed like a cat, trying not to awake @raluca, put on the gear in the dark and got out. I was still asking myself existential questions ranging from "what the fuck am I doing in these running shoes instead of keep sleeping?" to "maybe it will be too cold for running, who knows? I will just open the door of the building, see if it's too cold and then get back to sleep..."

But once I put my feet outside the building, everything got back to normal. My "running" normal, that is. I started the running watch, which had a bit of difficulty finding satellites (understandable, given the narrow streets in the old city) and gently started to run.

I felt "home" again.

At 7 AM the streets of Valencia are frighteningly empty. After all those crowds I witnessed during the Fallas, and even in the more tranquil evenings that followed, to see empty street after empty street in the harsh light of the morning was an almost disturbing view.

But once I got out of the Old Town (Ciutat Vella) and entered the old bed of the Turia river, now home of a strange breed of humans who are incessantly running in it, everything came back to normal.

It was a bit cold, but it was sunny. There were dozens (maybe hundreds) of runners of all ages going back and forth on the alleys.

It was incredibly nice to run under the bridges and chase the sun which was hiding behind the tall buildings of the left bank.

And then something even more surreal happened. I started to notice a few packs of Kenyans (or Ethiopians, maybe) all dressed the same, floating along with us. They weren't running. They were literally floating, effortlessly, smiling and looking at us, the mortals struggling to lift our feet from the ground every freaking second.

After you ran a few marathons and ultramarathons you can't miss them. They were professional runners. And there were a few different groups in the park.

And then I remembered that tomorrow there will be the World Cup of Half-Marathon, an event which will actually take place on the same alleys I was running too. All those floating Kenyans / Ethiopians will be storming the race tomorrow, and their floating was just the last training before the event.

As I was getting closer to the end of the river bed, just after the Opera (or Palau de les Arts Reina Sofia) I slowed down. It got windy and a bit cloudy.

I stopped after 5.5 km and just enjoyed the floating Kenyans / Ethiopians as I walked back to the place where we're staying.

It was 9 AM and I already had 10 km under my belt.

That's how you properly start a day, even when - or especially when - on holiday.

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I'm a serial entrepreneur, blogger and ultrarunner. You can find me mainly on my blog at Dragos Roua where I write about productivity, business, relationships and running. Here on Steemit you may stay updated by following me @dragosroua.

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