It is dark when I leave at six this morning. In my black running tights and deep eggplant purple Adidas jacket, I meld with black.
The moon isn’t visible, and the fog is grey-thick. I am careful. I have run these roads and paths so often that they have become part of me. Once, I almost stray from the path I barely see, but my feet sense the change in surface. I trust my stride, my feet, my muscle memory.
In the black, through the ViewMaster of my mind’s eye, I look back to the steps of my stride so far this Autumn as though looking up the treads and risers of a staircase. Winter’s harbinger remains chilly, yet I see color in her own steady, resolved march. The storms of Winter will come, of this I have no doubt, but I sense I will find the spectrum of color there in the midst, too.
Tomorrow morning, I shall lace up my shoes once again, running, breathing to the steps of my stride.
GL, 10/20/2009. Prevail.
Ok, WAY cool. I want to slip on my tennies and take of right now.
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