It was still dark when I began running around 6am. There
were few stars since the clouds still hung from last night. The only
significant light was a far-off pink glow from Denver. I’ve done plenty of
cycling at night and thoroughly enjoy the quiet and the new energies that fill
the body and land. It’s been a while, so it took a few minutes to get used to
the darkness and the wonder and energy it holds.
What I noticed most was how quickly I noticed my other
senses with sight being greatly attenuated. I noticed this a couple weeks ago
when I tried running with my eyes closed with a friend. Sounds were acute in
the still, cold morning air – the woodpecker, my feet gracing the road, the
ease of my breath, the whinny of a horse perhaps saying good morning or take me
with you, the echoes of the train whistle through Boulder valley. I even heard
a group of 3 runners perhaps a mile before I ever crossed paths with them.
Every sound was so clear and full. I could feel the chill on my face, and the
slight breeze pushing through my jacket onto my arms. Farm smells that wafted from
the fields to touch my nose and then gone again.
Slowly the morning light came and just as slowly colors came
into being. First the browns and deep reds, then the yellows and greens, all
the while every color becoming fuller. The sun started to show itself about
6:50. What a crazy, beautiful array of colors – lots of pinks and oranges. The
sun peeked over the horizon, then slipped behind some clouds and appeared again
over the eastern horizon of Colorado to warm the day.
One of the most unusual and satisfying experiences of the
dark morning run was feeling like I was part of the morning, part of the
dawning of a new day in this part of the world. Not just someone who wakes with
light already here, but part of the change. That’s part of life – isn’t it.
Being part of this world, being human, being here. Being part of the change and
growth of this amazing place we call earth. A great reminder for the day!
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