Night Run

The wind is picking up, but not enough to dissuade me from a night run.  The kids are asleep and the daily chores are done, and now it is time to escape for a little while.  My watch beeps in the night as the run begins.  It will track my position while I try to forget everything and just go.

The wind nips and pushes me as my legs begin to warm-up and feel the familiar pavement.  Bumps, cracks, uneven sidewalks, roots....all long-time friends of my runs, reminding me to be ever-alert as I press forward into the night.  Tonight I run without headphones or music, and just listen to the sounds in the darkness.

Yellow street lights are beacons I run towards, thankful for the brief blips of vision as I pass and move back into the shadows.  House after house I pass, each with their lights on, people inside, doing whatever it is they do before they sleep for the night.  The rhythm of the run is taking over.  My breaths and heartbeats blur with the passing of the houses and street lights.

My watch beeps to remind me of the miles as they pass, but it is distant.  Thoughts begin to fill my head, then leave once I give them a passing-over.  Thoughts about work, plans, life, kids, family, health, money..they all melt away after examination and contemplation.  I am left with myself, stripped away to the bare bones.  No falseness, no walls, no distractions.  This is where the run gets intense...not when I begin to sweat, but when I am all alone with myself.  There is nothing more honest than conversations with myself.  Self-examining and asking important questions.  Questioning my decisions and reinforcing the positive actions.

I am plunged into darkness as the run brings me to a street void of lights.  Only the partial moon peeking-out from behind fast-moving clouds provides me with muted shadows and glimpses of the ground I tread.  As I carve the miles, I carve my mind and body.  Everything is one now:  One motion, one breath, one beat, one step.  The tinder leaves cackle on the ground as I pass and the wind growls in a low chuckle of sorts.

A final turn and I find myself at the last stretch of my evening journey.  The park pond is icy black and the street lamp elongates my shadow until it looks like dark string passing over the grass.  At the doorstep, a final beep tells me I have returned and can save my run for posterity.  My breath returns and a slight cry for water can be heard somewhere in the back of my mind.  I look over my shoulder before crossing the threshold.  The moon glints a farewell, and the wind gives a final push, as if it is patting my back and saying, "Until next time..."