Night Run

My dog and I have taken to running late at night, when the trail is empty except for the occasional stray cat or passing cyclist. We run down this long stretch, humming songs and slowly I begin to feel the worry leaving my soul. It takes me about 12 minutes to run from one gate to the next where I stop, catch my breath, and look at the night lights that have been hung in a distant yard. I find myself wondering about the people who took the time to decorate their backyard so pretty for those of us night owls out running. It’s like a little piece of heaven has been strung between the trees to assure you that yes, Elisa, there is a God and He does hear your silent prayers.

We turn around and begin to run our way back, my dog and I. I know that I am getting dangerously close to my favorite spot on my trail when I get to a specific song on my play list. I sprint the last quarter mile and run every last, little bit of stress out of my body that I can muster. Once the song ends, I slowly enter the best part of the trail.

It’s completely wooded, on both sides, and trees hug the trail in a tight embrace. It’s awesome during the hot, summer days, but at night? It’s incredible. The moon barely sneaks a peek at me, while I am on this portion of the trail. The darkness is encompassing.

Any normal person would be completely freaked out running into something that dark, and secluded, but not me. My music goes off, and I listen.

The only sounds I hear are the crescendo and decrescendo of the crickets, sometimes in harmony, serenading me as I pound past them. They rise and swell with each passing step, as if welcoming me home from my long hiatus. The wind blows and it adds to the song that is being created just for me. The rustling of the leaves through the trees; the faint roar of the crowd at the baseball field, and the pounding of my shoes as they hit the pavement. This is my song, the one being created on the spot just for me.

Every so often, I can hear the badonk, badonk, badonk of someone drifting too close to the edge of the interstate and the low hum of a passing freight train all while the bugs crescendo and promptly decrescendo—in harmony. It’s the perfect accompaniment as I work through the thoughts that are troubling my soul.

We keep running, my dog and I, and hear a sprinkler turn on and the chickens that live just off the trail bedding down for the night. My dog catches sight of our distant shadow and utters a low growl, while perking his ears to make sure that we are safe. And alone. Not once am I afraid. I feel at peace, here on my trail with my night sounds.

This .57 miles is the best part of my whole run. The loud stillness that surrounds me while I am decompressing is engulfing. Peaceful. It ends all too soon, and I am back under the street light, seeing the headlights of the passing cars. I peer at those lights, wondering who is in that car, and where they are going. Are they happy? Are they living a fulfilled life? Those questions and more fill my mind as I greet the passing lights.

I slowly turn around and repeat the .57 miles again, retracing my steps back home. The darkness swallows me whole and sometimes I wish I could stay there forever; Basking in the quiet solitude that I have found. Just me, my dog and the night sounds that serenade me.

I keep going, gaining more speed, feeling the wind hit my face and realize that I have a smile on my face. I have shed my worries and sorrows as I have run down that .57 miles and I am coming out the other side refreshed and reborn. I can face another day.

Until it’s time for my nightly ritual with the trail, the night sounds and my old dog.