I ran tonight, after dark and with a Fleet Foxes song on repeat and the flashlight on my phone zigzagging back and forth, because even though I love the woods and have lived in various woods, there’s a little bit of instinctual adrenaline that kicks up when running in the dark.
It feels like a miracle pretty much every time I run and don’t want to stop and walk. Tonight, as the gravel road curved between cultivated red pines and wild spruces and balsams, I thought, I can’t do it.
Then immediately came the question: Do you want to be done now?
And just as immediately: No.
Then there’s no problem, is there?
And there wasn’t, even when the double drain on my low battery made the music and the light quit at the same moment. But I was on my way back and the road was smooth and I do know how to be brave and present in the dark.
And up ahead, sooner, almost, than I wanted, the trees opened, the road widened and I reached my car. Without stopping for fear and doubt.
It’s good for those faithful companions to stretch their legs, too, after all.