Waking Up Early is Good For Me

It's fall again. Didn't we just do this?
On the one hand there is the sameness of seasons, fall coming at the same time it does every year; on the other hand, there has never been this fall before, so I cannot tell if it is just redundancy or an old tale re-told. What I know of fall makes me lean towards the latter.

This morning I emerged from my dorm and headed to the gym, expecting the sticky, cloying humidity that has greeted me for the past few weeks. To my delight, I was greeted rather by a cool stillness, the first herald of winter. Light pollution reflected off the low-hung clouds, making it hard to see dawn (the days are shorter. Perhaps that should be the first herald of winter). I thought about running on the track, but decided against it. I didn't want to ruin my perception of a good morning by working out in it. I went inside.
Coming out forty-five minutes later I saw no trace of the overcast dark that had accompanied me there. In the five minutes back to the dorm the sun rose in a clear sky and waved a distant hello to the baseball stadium. The athletes and dance team were piling in for their morning training (I can't say I'm sorry I missed them. There's nothing like tiny girls and massive guys working out next to you, casting surreptitious glances at your heart rate or distance or rate of calorie-burninating, to make life really worthwhile) and a few cars were snoring into the parking lot.
I enjoyed the walk back to my dorm more than usual, because I spent half of the time feeling self-righteous for having worked out and the other half exulting in the approaching Time of Sweaters.

We shall see if this coolness lasts, if the temperatures keep inching down. It could be a trick.