This week I’m observing for a class in Minneapolis, so I’ve been staying with a friend Blaine, Minnesota. Blaine is your country-type of suburb, with 5-acre yards and backroads that wind around houses, shadowed by 15ft tall evergreen trees.

Tonight I felt inspired to go out on a night run. It was 9pm and I was trying to catch the last pieces of sunset. No such luck. Five minutes into the run the sky went dark, but it actually turned out quite beautiful.

The street that my friend lives on is paved and winding. You can see out in front of you, but when you look up, all you can see are pines and the starry sky. I took off my headphones and listened to the sounds of highway cars just beyond the street, of my feet against the hard ground, and of my labored breaths. It’s been several months since I’ve gone on a night run and I’ve forgotten how peaceful it is.

I ran in the center of the paved road. The ground was flat, dipping down on either side of me from repeated tire tracks. I looked forward, tracing the shadows of leaves and fence posts. I quieted my mind, taking in the dark pavement and dark sky, like a blanket settling around
me. I could have been scared. I guess that would be the natural reaction. But I wasn’t. I felt in my element. No distractions. Just me, the road, and the stars looking over me.