Night Run

At the whispering hour of 9:30 pm, the river road beckoned me, promising a nocturnal rendezvous steeped in solitude and introspection. 

The day had been a cocktail of highs and lows, oscillating between pickleball games and planned rest days to balance out the impending challenges of tomorrow’s double header - PWR Cycle and the heated embrace of a SOL class. My original ambition was a trifecta of classes but today’s impromptu game turned out to be a gentle, calorie-burning reprieve, thus the plan shifted, adapting to the rhythmic dance of exertion and relaxation.

Yet, the focal point of this narrative isn’t the light-hearted pickleball session. Instead, it's a richly textured account of an evening run that embraced me, an electrifying dance with the fading light on the familiar trail of river road. 

Emotions, much like the unyielding tide, sway persistently between crests and troughs. As evening draped its velvet cloak, a torrent of unresolved sentiments resurfaced, piercing through the well-crafted facade adorned with laughter and sarcasm. In this moment of vulnerability, I sought to channel this torrent, transforming the hurt into a kinetic force, a beacon to guide my nocturnal journey.

And there it was: the loop, a 3.6-mile embrace with the Mississippi River, a familiar friend welcoming me with open arms. A terrain I had conquered numerous times, which now stood as a silent confidant, absorbing the rhythms of my family's footsteps over decades. 

My venture began with a clarity that permeated my senses. The only symphony accompanying this pilgrimage was the subtle serenade of grasshoppers, guiding me gently into the embrace of the night. My body intuitively resonated with the rhythm of the trail, initially embracing a brisk walk that soon escalated into a fervent run. A quarter-mile of self-imposed intensity had me dancing at the brink of my limits, teetering between exhilaration and exhaustion.

What followed was a gracious dance of intervals, a measured cadence of walking and running, synchronized with the intermittent glow of the lampposts. I embraced the rhythm until an unexpected movement caught my peripheral vision, arresting my momentum abruptly.

A shadow emerged, a lumbering figure meandering towards the tree line. The darkness cloaked its true identity, sparking a surge of adrenaline and curiosity within me. When the beast turned, illuminated briefly by the approaching headlights, a demon of considerable magnitude revealed itself. Far removed from my initial suspicion of encountering a bobcat, I found myself sharing a fleeting moment with a possum of extraordinary size, a comical interlude in my nocturnal narrative.

At this juncture, my legs echoed protests of their own, a culmination of the week's adventures and today's energetic pursuits. I heeded their call, recognizing the need to savor the lighter moments life presented. There, amidst the silent witnesses of the night, I chose not to chase demons, whether external or internal, and embraced the humor life occasionally offers.

The journey culminated with a humble 14-minute pace, a testament to pushing boundaries, yet acknowledging and celebrating one's efforts. In the grand scheme, it might not mirror the relentless pace set by seasoned instructors, but in this solitary venture, it epitomized personal triumph and resilience, a gentle reminder that sometimes, the journey holds more wisdom than the destination.

All the best,

Fred