Have you ever noticed how much darker the night feels during the winter?
I realize this seems like a pretty ridiculous question, we all know that the night is dark. Period. But in the winter, when it's freezing out, the night seems... heavier, darker. I reflected on this notion the other night when I decided to go running at 7:45 pm, long after the sun had set and when temperatures were dipping as low as 27 degrees* outside.
(*I realize this isn't cold to some, but I live in eastern NC and 27 degrees is the type of weather you avoid being out in at all costs!)
I won't lie to you, I paced in front of the kitchen window for half an hour before I rallied myself enough to go upstairs and get dressed for this excursion. My fabulous, never-to-be-worn-in-the-daylight outfit consisted of a pair of running tights, long sleeved dry-fit shirt, gloves, hat, bright lime-green t-shirt and reflective vest. (I live in the country, better to be safe than sorry when running at night!)
After a few futile hops in front of the door to get my blood flowing and a farewell to my cat, I started out on the 10K training assignment for that day.
The first half-mile was a blur as I struggled to adjust to the unlit road and uneven land under my feet and the extreme temperature. But, as I began to warm up, I was able to appreciate my surroundings a little more. At night in the winter, the world is quiet and still; no crickets or frogs sing out, as they do in the summer. I listened to my shoes shuffle along the pavement, looking around at all of the familiar houses in the neighborhood I had entered. I was no longer as aware of the cold as I had been and picked up my pace as I entered the second mile.
The route I followed took me on a loop through the neighborhood and back to my community via a short stretch of unlit country road. This road has a rough, steep shoulder and is covered by an overhang of trees, creating a dark tunnel. Although busy during the day, it saw very little traffic once everyone was home safe and warm. As I was primarily wearing black, with only a reflective vest to alert drivers, I was relieved that I was alone on the road as I continued into the darkness.
But, just my luck, as soon as I reached the part of the road with the absolute worst shoulder, I saw a vehicle swing around the curve ahead of me and saw the lights of a car from behind. Great! Although I was reflective, I knew it wasn't quite enough and had to make a split second decision: slide off onto the shoulder and risk a fall or worse OR sprint like mad to the beginning of the sidewalk 100 meters ahead. Which would you choose?
I ran.
Some 10 odd years ago, I ran track for my high school. I was a mid-distance runner, placing well in the 4x800's and similar races. Sprinting was not my forte. But on this night, I ran hard. It's all about survival, I guess. No longer even noticing the cold, I focused on the end of the sidewalk and pushed forward. It was exhilarating, watching the ever approaching car out of the corner of my eye and mentally calculating the distance to the sidewalk, all the while my breath coming in short, fast gasps. My foot struck the cement of the sidewalk just moments before the car passed on the asphalt a few feet to my right. Whether they saw me or not, I do not know.
The last 200 meters of the run were smooth as I glided into my cul-de-sac and came to a stop in front of my house. My hands immediately locked behind my head as I walked in small circles, trying to catch my breath from a tiny speed work out I had not experienced since high school. It hurt, but it was a good feeling to know I could still do it, at least once.
Day 1 of week 2 in the program
Easy 2.02 miles @ 8:21 pace
