Running in the Dark

It's my new guilty pleasure...running in the dark. No lights. I've only done it a few times, but it's exhilarating.  Out there, alone, encompassed by the night. It gives me the sense of being blind. I can't see where I've been. I can't see where I'm going. I get little glimpses of roadway or pitfalls, but that's it -- just glimpses. It cultivates in me a deeper kind of faith, of believing without seeing, of trusting.


And it gives life to that invincible, youthful, naive part of me, that reckless girl from way back. She's still in this old body somewhere. I think.


This morning was exquisite. The full moon accompanied me on my miles, ridiculous in her beauty. As I rounded the corner to come home, the east was starting to light up with day. I couldn't have felt more at peace, more content. It's at those times that I know I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.

So today, Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings singing Humble Me, I'm aware that my job in this life is to keep moving my legs, whether I can see them or not, in a direction, whether I can see it or not, and to trust that at some point I will get to where I'm going. And if I'm lucky enough in the minute, I'll realize that the place I'm going is the place I'm at. Right now. Right here. Just like this.