Summer solstice:
The last time I rose specifically to watch the summer solstice sun rise was… a long time ago. This year, I thought it would be a good idea to kill two birds with one stone by combining the sunrise with an early morning run – before the predicted 36 degree Celsius (97 F) heat kicked in for the day. 
I stepped out of the house and onto the street, expecting my body to meet a cool sheet of air. Instead, it was already sticky. I made the easy five-minute run up to Fisherman’s Bastion, which overlooks the Danube and all of Pest to the East. With about ten minutes to spare before the 4.46am sunrise, I wasn’t sure who or what to expect up there. Even if it’s not Stonehenge with a hoard of druids, it still is definitely the best place in all of Budapest for crazy mystics to watch the sun rise. So I wasn’t really expecting to be alone. And no, I wasn’t.
Approaching the bastion with its massive columns and stone walls, I heard the sound of laughter. A couple of late-night revellers were still up there with a bottle of something… So I found myself a quiet corner on a parapet of the lower level, and surveyed the panorama. At this early hour, all was still quiet down below, with only a few headlights silently, smoothly snaking their way along the riverside avenues. The city extended to the horizon, gradually losing definition as the humid air swallowed it in a curtain of smog. Beyond, a bank of thick cloud stuck stubbornly to the horizon in what was otherwise an almost completely clear, pale blue morning sky. The packed cumulus formation in the distance looked like a row of armoured soldiers, lined up menacingly, ready for battle. I scanned right to left, from south to north. All quiet, except for a chorus of birdsong. On the far left, standing on the opposite side of the bastion, a pair of lovers stood locked in an enduring embrace, oblivious to the rest of the world. With just a few minutes to go, a few wispy clouds directly above bore the pink tinges of approaching dawn. No sign of colour on the dull grey horizon, though, where the sun itself was supposed to rise. It was looking increasingly like we’d all have to wait for the sun to clear that bank of cloud before we’d feel the first rays of summer on our faces. 4.45am… 4.46am… 4.47am… No sun. The lovers were still too entwined in each other to notice that the moment of sunrise had passed. From the bastion’s upper level, intermittent inebriated laughter continued, completely obliviously.
From this slightly surreal scene, I returned step by step back to reality, running down the main stairs to the road below. A few minutes later I was at the bottom of Castle Hill, as life was starting up for another day. The rumble of car engines and distant trams began to fill the background. Down by the river, no sign of the record floods which had brought the city to a standstill just a few days earlier. The lower riverside drive was open again; traffic was slowly but surely making a return. All was as it should be. My legs were fresh, running smoothly. Up to Margaret Bridge, over into Pest, and then downriver, past parliament, towards Franz Josef Bridge, and then back onto the Buda side for the last couple of miles back home. The sun was radiating a golden orange glow over the entire city. Running alongside the river, its reflection exploded on the waves into a thousand dazzling orbs, as if to compensate for the late arrival. But I don’t think anyone besides myself had noticed the delay in the first place…
Joy of Barefoot Running 