Escape

Yesterday was such a crazy day that the only thing I could think about was running. Preferably far away. I don't usually believe in the pseudo-psychological theory that people run because they are trying to get away from something. I'm sure some people do, but there are so many other reasons to go for a run that have nothing to do with escaping reality.

But yesterday I wanted to run away from it all. The stress. The negativity. The sense that I'm wasting my life on something that's not me. That I could be doing so much more.

Instead, J and I went climbing and my mood improved, if only for a short while. And then, when we got home, I started planning my next run.

I got up at 5 this morning, had a quick breakfast and put on my running clothes. I fished my headlamp out of the closet, checked that the batteries were still working and off I went into the woods. When I got out the door, I saw the first light on the horizon, but in the woods it'd be dark.

It was completely quiet, but for the wind in the trees and the sound of the lake water against the shore. I wondered if there were any angry elks or wild boars around. My senses were heightened by the fact that I could only see a couple of meters ahead, and that I was wearing my VFF, feeling every little stone on the soles of my feet. I was lost in an unreal landscape, familiar yet distorted, dangerous yet comforting.

I trod as lightly as I could, taking care to avoid any obstacles. My memory helped me a lot more than the light from my headlamp; somehow everything on ground level is flattened by the light, and subtle height distances disappear, making it easy to trip on stones and roots. Good thing I had run around the lake a thousand times before, knowing exactly where to step and what to avoid.

On the way back, I switched my headlamp off. It wasn't necessary. The first rays of the sun had chased the last night shadows away, turning the world orange and unfamiliar shapes into the branches and rocks I'd seen so many times. It was time to go home. Back to reality.