Only the moon is out with some wispy clouds for company. The air is heavy with humidity and impending rain that will dissipate the warmth gathering on the streets from the orange autumn days, raining down cold, dousing the streets in gray. A baby was up at this hour, crying for mama though the open windows–the sheers billowing like gossamer.
I adjusted my headlamp and aimed it downward to illuminate the road at my feet. The asphalt sparkled, twinkling with tiny stars. A black cat’s eyes gleamed gold in the beam when I turned to check for cars; she sat there owning the sidewalk and waited to see what I would do, waited to see if I would look back at my house and think of the warm bed I just left and decide to forgo the run.
I pressed the button on my watch and began running under the moonlight in the predawn quiet. There was enough ambient light from street lamps, making my headlamp seem like I was overly prepared for this morning’s run. My red-flashing triangle light blinked on my back so cars could see me–a caution triangle for slow moving vehicles, in this case, a slow moving runner. I took my time running to meet my friend.
Running in the dark is something I don’t do too often, but when I do, I appreciate the calm wrapped simultaneously with the hyper alertness that only comes with the shadows under cars and in between houses and around forgotten trash cans. Nothing moves at this hour just before humanity awakens.