Night run
It was beautiful again today. I meant to go outside in the early afternoon, but I watched the first half of the football game on TV, worked on my computer, and started dinner. By the time I pulled the salmon out of the oven, I could see through the window behind the sink that it was dark outside.
I left the salmon on the stovetop and put on my sneakers. The lamps along the path in the park were all turned off. I could barely see the pavement underneath my feet. The moon was like a fingernail clipping in the night sky.
With less to see, I could feel more—my breath pumping in and out of my chest, the muscles in my legs flexing as my heels struck the ground. I felt out of my body, in the dark. Like a soul floating along the path. Such that the sensations were not physical pains of exertion. They were, instead, the general joys of movement.