I always do my long runs before Saturday Breakfast at 9 AM. Depending on how far, means how early I get up. For my 40ks it means 3 AM.

At 3AM, the house is silent apart from the fridge motor and the streets are deserted. Leaving the front door, all I hear is click of the clock and my feet hitting the ground; even the neighbour’s yapper is off duty! I’ve got neck problems, so I detect traffic better by listening than moving my limited neck to see, and today, there is nothing to see.

I head onto the deserted waterfront with just the soft wind blowing on the cliffside trees, maybe hear the waves gently (or not so if it’s rough) lap on the shore and hopefully my keys are tightly wrapped so they won’t clank which is amplified here.

I hear gentle whooshes as the wind floats over my open ears and I feel it caress my bare arms.

My soul is full of the views and sensations, though my mind is vacant as I let my legs do all the talking.

In 10km, I seldom see a car or anyone daft enough to be up this early and I listen hard for anything: maybe a distant freight train rumbles. I see Flagstaff’s lights across the deserted harbour, hearing nothing – not even the rumble of the container ship having an early berth.

I run past the Port, so lit yet so silent even though I see a crane uplifting containers, not even a bird calling out.

I hear a loud whirr: it’s the motor of a mobile tower cabinet that in the daytime noise would barely notice, then a louder whirr of a bus stop hoarding’s motor

I run up the hill, past an Ex-PM’s house that normally would be thronging with cars and just hear the wind flick the leaves and sometimes the tap of my feet.

Through the shopping area: clip, clip, clip of my feet on the flagstones. Slurp as I take some water in.

My breathing and clips quicken as I ascend the Volcano’s windy road, yet I still hear nothing else.

I get to the peak and look around: before me is a city of 2m quiescently slumbering as all I hear is the gentle wind blow, and I silently eat a biscuit before my return and my mind is clear of thoughts apart from processing the view.

Clack, Clack, Clack as my feet hit the CorTen steel path my breathing accelerates into the silence as I run the peak’s path.

The sound of Silence pervades and bathes my soul.