6AM at Rio

No curated playlists. No matching sets. Just breath, gravel, and whatever mood the river’s in that day. Rio Park doesn’t care if I’m tired or torn open. It just lets me show up anyway.

The world is different at 6 a.m.

Not quieter, exactly. Just more honest.

No makeup, no small talk, no traffic. Just breath, pavement, river, and the hum of the city still deciding what kind of day it’s going to be.

Rio Park is my place. Not because it’s fancy or famous—it’s not. But it knows me. It’s seen me sprint through grief and drag myself through healing. It’s seen the version of me that doesn’t owe anyone a smile or a perfectly crafted sentence.

That first stretch—the one where the path dips down toward the trees, where the morning mist still clings to the river like it’s not ready to let go—that’s where I remember how to breathe again. My legs ache. My lungs burn. But there’s a kind of freedom in the pain.

Sometimes there’s a fox. Sometimes a raven watching me like it knows too much.

Sometimes just my own shadow stretching long and loose in the early light, reminding me I’m still here. Still moving.

And the city?

It’s still half-asleep. No construction noise yet. No honking. Just the occasional dog walker or cyclist with that same haunted, hopeful look. Like we’re all chasing something—or outrunning it.

This is where I make my peace.

Before emails. Before school drop-offs. Before headlines and expectations and all the roles I have to play.

In those 45 minutes, I get to be just a body. Just a woman pounding pavement. Listening to the crows gossip. Feeling the cold bite of Alberta morning air in my throat.

It’s unpretty. My hair’s wild. My hoodie’s from 2009. And I like it that way.

Because there’s something holy about showing up for yourself before the world even knows you’re awake.

6 a.m. in Rio Park isn’t for the influencers. It’s for the ones rebuilding. The ones who’ve had their hearts broken and are still out here anyway. The ones who lace up with sleep still in their eyes and grit still in their teeth.

If you ever see me out there—don’t say hi. Just nod. We’ll both know.

~smy