LIFE AS A HUMAN

Tarmac Meditations #47: A Runner’s Sightlines

Michael takes a contemplative early morning run through the mist, beneath familiar constellations.

October 31, 2010

Ran again today. A little longer. Stronger at the start and finish. I made the turn at 13th and headed up past the Coliseum with its gun show and ski swap (a biathlon kind of Sunday, I guess). I had a small digestive issue, familiar to all long distance runners, which required a quick stop in the trees.

I started up slowly, just to be sure of things. I noticed that the clouds had separated and Orion was bright in the night sky. My friend M often points out Orion when we run the track, and it is usually followed by a wide arcing movement to the Dipper. As did I this morning.

The last quarter moon was shadowed with a misty ring of subtle color. I crossed the bridge behind the power station. The radio towers are ghostlike riders in the mist. There was thick ground fog rising from the open fields behind the fairgrounds, with haloed lamp post lights in the distance, a bright moon overhead and dark grey clouds above the ridge line to the south.

The mist rising and clouds lowering left a sightline to the top of the hills, bathed in moonlight, rising sentinel over the valley. I nodded to no one in particular and turned for home. Finished with a little old time miler’s stride and did the requisite push ups and crunches. Time to take some pictures, put unsettled feelings away and get on with my Sunday.

Photo Credit

“Orion and Sirius” David DeHetre @ Flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.