The Blue Are Coming

My Run in the Rain

28 March 2026, Jakarta

I wake to Fajar – the first call to prayer. I’m not Muslim, or even religious. Yet the chant moves me to act. I get out of bed and walk to the balcony to check the weather. Light rain.

There are more calls now, and from different directions. Each mosque broadcasts the message from loudspeakers. The words are the same, yet pitch and tempo are not. Some growl in a mid bass while others reach a mid tenor. All are recordings of muezzins from around the world.

The enchanting discord lasts a few minutes until one by one, the calls fade. I go inside to get dressed for my morning run.

I’m a bit of a freak when it comes to my running kit. It all has to match in some way. I choose shorts in a solid teal and a heather teal shirt with the Green Bank Observatory logo. The socks are teal, too. My Altra runners are grey, but with teal highlights. Told you I’m a freak.

After a quick glass of water, I’m ready to go. Coffee and breakfast can wait.

I grab my eyeglasses, lobby entry card, and house key. Most entry doorlocks in Indonesia use a key for both sides. A couple of turns to the left unlock the door from the inside. A couple of turns to the left lock the door on the outside.

There are three lifts. I always choose the rightmost one. The others play adverts on LCD screens next to the door. Audio makes them even more annoying. My lift of choice is too narrow for a screen. It’s also the dumpiest of the three. The thin wood-ish panels are delaminating; the overhead fan chugs like a Harley. I push the first floor button and the door closes painfully slow.

There isn’t a fourth or thirteenth floor in this tower or the others. “Four” sounds like the word for “Death” in Mandarin and Cantonese – and a few other Asian languages. “Thirteen” is unlucky in many Western cultures.

The lift starts moving with a thunk. It grunts and bangs a bit as I descend from the ninth floor. I don’t know how long ago it was last inspected. Yet if the worst happens, an eight-story fall in a metal box is a fair trade for an ad-free experience on the way down.

Somewhere around the sixth floor I realize my running shorts are on backwards. Ugh… I really don’t want to go back upstairs. I think about – and quickly dismiss – the idea of a quick switch in the ten seconds before the door opens. I don’t see a camera (and if there is, it probably doesn’t work). Yet if I fumble and arrive on the first floor bottomless, I’ll have some ‘splainin to do.

This is going to be a hell of a run.

I reach the ground floor fully dressed and far below terminal velocity. I wave my hand in front of the Covid-inspired proximity button, and the lobby door unlocks with a click. I walk through the lobby past a new laundry service on the right. I hope it’s better than the last one I used. On the left is a tiny Buddhist temple. You have to remove your footwear to go in. I like the burning incense even though it smells like a funeral.

I go outside, and am greeted by the security guard…

“Selamat pagi, bap.” Good morning, sir.

“Selamat pagi. Ada hujan. Wah.” Good morning. It’s raining. Wah.

“Grimis aja.” Just a drizzle.

So I go into the just a drizzle and start my run. Each trip around the tower complex is 0.45 miles. Seven rounds give me 3.15 miles – just a tick over five kilometers.

On the way out of Tower C, I do a time check at the parking garage pay station. It’s 04:52:24. Most of the stations have a blue LED border. This one’s broken and I hope it stays that way. Blue is my favorite color but the short wavelength is murder on the eyes under predawn lighting.

I pound pavement for fifty feet or so before hitting a brick path. It quickly leads to the Club House. There’s a Korean restaurant and an Indomaret on the ground floor. Meetings and whatnot are also held in the Club House. A friend of mine goes to a Christian service in the small function room every Sunday. I’m not Christian, but once joined her as a polite gesture. The sermon was bracketed by live music at the start and finish. The vocals were drowned out by the synthesizer and the guitar was totally lost in the mix. They really need a good sound tech.

The Club House is hosting a bazaar this month. Only two of the ten tables have been taken – both by food sellers. It’s kinda’ sad. I hope more vendors show up.

I pass a short brick walkway to the left. It leads to a Katolik outdoor prayer space; a statue of Mother Mary stands at the end. Her likeness is both impossibly old and pale given when and where she lived.

I turn right to cross the road and pass the water fountain. It hasn’t worked in two years.

I’m back on the bricks headed for the entrance to the tower complex. I reach Tower F where the Marketing Office is. There’s a window sign advertising Doktor Gigi through the glass. Her name isn’t Gigi but she is a doctor. “Gigi” means “tooth”, so a dentist specifically.

I reach the Tower F parking garage exit and hear the kelak kelak of a car driving over the drainage grate at the bottom of the ramp. I stop and wait so it doesn’t squash me. A Toyota Fortuner clatters past. The large SUV is nice to ride in, but not run behind. I inhale the diesel exhaust and subtract fifteen minutes from my lifespan.

I run beneath a pergola to Tower G. A few stray cats hang around there waiting for handouts. I see one and it sees me. I keep running and it just looks miffed.

The Fortuner is at the exit ahead of me. The driver lowers his window to use the parking debit card reader. A synthetic voice greets the driver. “Tambalkan Kartu.” Insert card. So that’s what he does. As the drawbar goes up, the voice politely urges the driver off. “Terimah Kasih. Selamat Jalan. Terimah Kasih. Selamat Jalan.” Thank you. Have a good trip. Thank you. Have a good trip.

I take a left just before the exit and pass the dual EV charging station. A BYD M6 is parked in one space. It’s a three-row EV that’s popular with families. Although the rearmost seat is really only for kids. The other space is taken by a BYD Atto 1. This one’s a subcompact city car with a top speed of 57mph. It costs about 12,500 dollars US (if you could get one in the US), so I cut it some slack.

I’m now on the brick path circling around the back of towers G and F. There’s a basketball practice half court on the right. It has a hoop but no net. I’ve never seen anyone use it.

Just after the court is the motorcycle parking area. Motorcycles are massively popular in Indonesia. They do much better than automobiles in the brutal Jakarta traffic.

I pass a small outbuilding on the right. There are two rooms, with a gated entrance to each. The left one is locked. Last year I took a peek in there before someone secured it. I found building supplies, tools, and a bag full of school textbooks. One of them was a Korean to Bahasa Indonesia primer. It’s never too late to learn.

Someone, or several someones use the room on the right. Inside, there’s an old bedframe with a mattress and blankets on top. Shirts and pants hang from a simple clothesline. A bucket and bottle of detergent facilitate hand laundering. Plastic drawers and a large plastic bag – probably filled with clothes – round out the living space.

I slow down when I reach the tiny playground. Not to see children play (it’s way too early for them to be out), but because the brick walkway has given way to pebbled asphalt. The marble-sized stones might as well be real marbles in the morning rain. Running on this would guarantee a fall and a trip to the emergency room. Good thing there’s a hospital next door. The blinking red light and “IGD” – Instalasi Gawat Darurat (Emergency Room) sign are clearly visible over the wall. I hate hospitals, so I walk the next 125 feet or so to the road and cross over to another brick path.

I pass the empty tennis courts. Nobody’s dumb enough to run around on a wet surface in the dark. Except me.

The large cement pots on the side of Tower A have seen better days. The flora inside should’ve been transplanted a long time ago. Instead of getting rootbound, they broke the pots they were in. A dog barks at me from one of the lower floors. Maybe it’s jealous coz I’m running, and it isn’t.

I go around the front of Tower A. There’s a laundry service on the left side of the lobby. I can’t recommend it. The second (and last) time I used them, a pair of my shorts went missing. However, I got two pairs of someone else’s underwear. If that same someone else got my shorts in exchange, he wore them commando.

I go under another pergola to Tower B. Not much going on inside, but here’s a space across the road to wash your car or motorcycle. It’s three parking spaces with a water hose and bucket in the middle one. A food seller parks his three wheel mini-truck in one of the spaces every evening. It’s mostly vegetables and eggs, but sometimes he sells other things.

The brick path from towers B and C is always slicker that the others when it rains. I’m not sure why – maybe because it’s on the south side? I pass a sign “Batas Kecepatan 20kph.” Speed limit 20kph. I’m in no danger of breaking that.

I smell fried noodles in the back of Tower B. I should’ve snacked before I left. Maybe if I ask nicely they’ll invite me to breakfast. If that isn’t enough, someone in a side apartment of Tower C makes shiomai every morning. I was told she has a food stall and sells it there. I don’t like shiomai. Yet it smells good and I’m hungry.

I go around to the front of Tower C – back where I started. My leg snags an errant thorny vine. Ouch. I do another time check. My pace is so bad, I’m not going to tell you. The rain is picking up but I’ve six more rounds to go.

On the path behind towers F and G, I come up behind a woman power walking. She’s in a jilbab (headscarf), and loose-fitting modestwear. We’ve talked before, so I greet her with “Selamat Pagi.” However, I barely get out “Sela” before she jumps in surprise. I guess she didn’t hear me coming through her rain-dampened headwear.

I have a knack for scaring people. One morning last year, I greeted a Korean jogger with “Annyong”, and she really jumped. I’ve not seen her since. Maybe she hasn’t landed yet.

Anyhoo… Aditska recovers and asks if I want to walk with her. I wasn’t going to break any records with my pace, so I accept. She tells me her husband passed away a few months ago. I offer my sympathy and ask if she’s doing okay. She said she’s feeling better, and tells me how good and generous her husband was. It’s unfortunate I never met him.

We walk past Tower A, but the dog doesn’t bark this time. I guess it was the running.

After a round, she asks what I think about the situation in the US right now. I know what she means, so I tell her I didn’t vote for the current president and do not agree with his policies. This opens the floodgates. Aditsika lets me know exactly how she feels.

After nearly two rounds together, she leaves to her apartment. Aditiska says she hopes to see me again. I hope she didn’t see my running shorts are on backwards.

I walk a little way to the charging station. Both the BYD cars are gone. I start running, but have to slow down when I catch up to two people who are walking very slowly. The brick path is a little more than three feet across, making it difficult to pass without stepping into the mud on either side. I’ve scared enough people this morning, so I say nothing and walk behind them over the bricks and then the slippery pebbles. I’m able to run past them as I cross the road.

The dog barks as I pass Tower A. Definitely the running.

I skid a bit on the I-still-don’t-know-why-they’re-more-slippery bricks between towers B and C. The rain is heavy now so I take off my eyeglasses to see. Grimis aja my ass.

I stop briefly in front of Tower C to move that stupid vine so it won’t get me again. And prick my finger. Ouch. One more round to go.

There’s a schoolboy waiting for a taxi or some other driver in front of Tower F. He sits crosslegged hunched over a mobile phone on the tile platform next to the stairs. Some things are universal.

There’s a Neta V hatchback at the charging station now. You don’t want one. The car is so unsafe in a crash that it’s blacklisted by Grab, the largest rideshare in Indonesia.

I run past the tennis courts, barking dog, and speed limit sign one more time before reaching Tower C. I wipe my shoes on the carpet before entering the lobby. I use my keycard to pass through to the lifts. Of course I take the dumpy one. The lift grunts disapproval on the way up as my clothes drip water onto the floor.

I need a shower. You think I wouldn’t with the morning weather, yet my skin is salty beneath wet clothes. My shoes have kicked up mud and other debris onto my calves, as well.

Maybe I’ll just bring soap for my next run in the rain.