Today I ran alone. I took the same route as yesterday. At the café which was the turn around point yesterday, I pushed on. But it was good to see the cafe – Chameli – I wondered if there was an Indian connection. The kind of café that spilled into the pavement – muffins, croissants and assortments in the glass cases. Regulars sipped their morning coffee and read newspapers. I pushed on ahead. It was quiet and still, save for few walkers, cyclists and runners and the occasional car flying past at European speed.
A few kilometres on, I picked up a snickers bar and a bottle of water at a gas station.
The pavement designed for cyclists and runners seemed to extend for miles. Ribbons of tree lined asphalt punctuated with glimpses of the Balearic sea and sunrise behind snatches of cotton wool clouds was my view until I reached the next town.
Within a couple of miles I had crossed this dreary town that seemed to have a rundown look about it.
Onwards, the port of Palma and the city stretched before me. Massive cruise ships dwarfed the hundreds of sailboats and yachts in the harbour.
One titled Mein Shiff, that I guessed translated to My Ship from the German, must be exclusively for German speaking guests.
I reached the port, ferries and ships glowered above me, and I decided to u-turn back. Towards the end, I ran a few extra kilometres before finishing with another u-turn back to the hotel, rounding off a satisfying and rolling long run this Sunday morning.
Writing about Running 