Tonight I went on a run for the first time in a while. By the time I got outside after work it was already pitch dark, but not too cool. I ran across 114th to Riverside Park and ran up and down Riverside Drive, between 79th and 120th. It was one of those nights when I felt propelled; when I was constantly trying to run faster and faster. Lately it seems like I have these moments when I'm walking calmly down the street but I suddenly have the urge to run, to release some energy through my legs and into the receptive asphalt below. To remind myself that I live and am a force.
I had never run at night before in this neighborhood, and I had to keep a close eye on the rolling paving stones under my feet to make sure I didn't trip. The street lights offered bright, filmy circles to guide my way, narrowing the park to this single artery. I listened to a new playlist of my 20 favorite songs of the year, and I kept an eye on my shadows around me, quick, consistent, faster than I thought I was.
When I finished my legs were aching pleasantly and my throat was cold from the night air. I felt so good. The last great run I had was during our weekend upstate in Patterson, running along winding mountain roads, past old farmhouses and barns, beneath a storm of bright fall color. Tonight was different, simpler, more elemental: feet pounding the road, lungs pumping air, breath and heartbeat and sweat. A reminder that I can create force.
Of course, somehow on the walk home I appear to have lost my work ID. A fun new project for the morning. Two steps forward, always one back.