A Morning Run in Florence

The brisk morning air bites at my exposed skin the second I push my way out the double doors of my apartment on Piazza Santa Felicita. November mornings in Italy offer a tantalizing taste of Wintertime. The sharp pang of crisp, cool air fills my lungs with every inhale. My runs along the Arno River have become a sacred part of my routine here. I'm offered a unique opportunity to appreciate the beauty of Florence before the rest of the city wakes up.

With every step I take, I notice the sky slowly waking up - letting go of the darkness of night to

welcome the promising light of a new day. Soon the streets will be flooded with individuals

eager to complete their daily checklists. But for now, it's just me and the rowers on the Arno

awake to admire the quiet air that surrounds the city. I watch as the glistening river water dances in the wake of the rowers, and think to myself I could stay here forever. Lost in the dream dancing through my mind, my sneaker gets caught in the cobblestone and I'm forced to focus on my footing.

Mornings in Florence feel like an intimate secret. I'm awake but I shouldn't be. I run by the

bakeries right as the lights bring the storefronts to life. I see pastry chefs kneading dough and

dusting powdered sugar onto croissants. When their gaze meets mine through the window, I can see subtle smiles dancing on their lips. They're surprised to see a young American girl on the streets of Florence before 7:00 a.m. I feel like I'm part of an exclusive club filled only with those who know the enchantment of mornings in a place as magical as Italy. Soon I'll be making my way into one of the aforementioned bakeries for my early morning pick-me-up. A cappuccino and an almond croissant is my go-to.

Though my morning runs in Florence are fleeting and don't last more than 35 minutes, the

intimate tie I feel to the city is irrevocably mine. I'll always have a strong bond with Florence,

and it's the morning moments that I know I'll remember most.