the night doesn’t care.
day runs are about time and form and people. night runs are about shadows and dreaming and escape.
halley’s comet is a different place at night. the carnival lights up the inky fog. creaky, rusted rides that looked so ominous during yesterday’s run are blazing in neon, the cars of some insane NASA torture chamber creating a blur in the clouds.
a heron sits in the darkness, content in his anonymity. a homeless guy nearby does the same. i trot alone in the darkness, the palm trees casting ominous shadows on the trail, the wind causing things to stir just out of my vision. or maybe it’s the underwear gnomes. i’m not sure if running here is safe. and that’s a good thing.
the honey badger boys gather in the parking lot near the lexington to compare fuel injectors. an occasional skateboarder flies by, fueled by the tailwind and the thrill of racing into the unknown. romances ebb and flow along the seawall it’s like watching an old movie while i run. lovers embrace. camera switches to a view of the ocean. cue orchestra.
even surfing jesus shares the love, as the methodist church casts an unintentional homage to a jehovah’s witness who died too soon.
i’m here only because i grudgingly worked a day shift, forcing me to run the late show. and remember what a joy it is.
the lights reflecting on the bay, the endless night sky, the serenity of a quiet evening interrupted only by queens of the stone age at 120 decibels in my headphones. it’s the way running is supposed to be. it’s slow. it’s pointless. it’s just another run.
because at the end of the day, the night doesn’t care. neither do i.