Running in the dark

Some days suck eggs.

Some days rock.

This was a rocking day. It didn't really start out that way as I was busy procrastinating most of the day, but I finally did pull myself together and go workout.

I don't know what happened, maybe it was something about running in the dark.

Running in the dark is different from running in the daylight. No-one else is out there. You can't really see where you're going. (Note: Don't run in the dark unless you're running somewhere you've run many, many times before.) You can't see your feet. You can't see your watch. You can't see the normal landmarks that you use to judge your workout or that you use to say to yourself "I'll just make it to that tree/bush/pole and then walk."

None of that exists. Just you and the movement of running and your trust that this path that you've travelled so many times will still be acting like it always does and you will be able to meet it right with your feet.

So. I started running. And I kept running. And I didn't stop, and I found a pace that I was comfortable with and a zone that I could move through without too much effort. And I kept going. I knew where the ups and downs of the path were, but for some reason, they did not seem as large as they always are when it's daylight. I went by how my body felt, and I just ran.

I ran the whole way. The first time in, maybe, forever, I ran. Without walking and without, for the moment, wishing I was faster, or better, or more in shape. I just ran.

Maybe it was just a dream. Running in the dark.