The Track at Night

Winter is going to be hard on my running.

During the summer, I was a morning runner. I loved getting up as the sun rose and breathing in the new day. But when the time fell backward and the leaves began to change, my bright morning runs turned into dreary darkness.

As the fall colors peaked, I switched my runs to the afternoon and bid farewell to the sun each day instead. I began to like this time each evening to calm the rush in my brain and to stretch my legs after sitting idle all day. But now winter is creeping in and my peaceful sunsets have turned into cool moon rises and starlit skies.

Tonight I decided to stop mourning the loss of the sun and embrace the inevitable darkness of the winter run. As I began my trek in the pitch black, my eyes and ears began to adjust to the muted colors and sounds of the night. Although there were people around me, it felt like I was running alone. All I could hear was the sound of my feet striking the rubber track and the sound of my quickening breath. My eyes could only see the track a few feet in front of each step, so my focus was not drawn to anything other than my run. I didn't have to think about how I looked as I rounded each curve or worry that someone would notice the water leaking out of my water bottle creating a track down the back of my leg.

There is something forgiving about the darkness. About feeling alone, quiet, peaceful.

Maybe these winter runs won't be quite so bad after all.