A Runner in the Dark

We runners are kind of nocturnal animals, often waking at ungodly hours when the world is sound asleep, wrapped up in their dreams and their sheets, lovers arms. Waking up only to take to deserted parks and streets, where nothing stirs, not even a mouse (well scurrying rats would be more like it).

To beat heat and the crowded streets, or to avoid being trampled, or run over by the hustle and bustle, we dare to run in the pitch dark, when dawn is yet to break. In a hope of squeezing in that run before the world awakes, before we run out of time in our busy lives, our busy schedule, a risk we are willing to take.

So we take to the deserted parks and streets with our senses all heightened, always wondering what just brushed against our feet, was that a rat (yikes). A cat, or god save us if it something else. What is it that lurks in the shadows, making us all jumpy. What was that strange sound, what’s behind the dustbin? Always prepared for someone to jump us, mug us, the sole bakra running in the dead of the night, or a spirit looking for a soul to possess. Always trying to dodge those pesky strays that come barking, snapping at our heels, difficult to shake off.

Running in places like the national park can be stressful thing from being constantly worried of being mauled by the wilderness. Everything that glistens in the dark leaves us wondering if it’s some animal staring our way wondering, fool or food. Constantly trying to keep to the road, till the eyes adjust to the dark, stepping carefully lest to trip and fall (as I have a number of time). All leaving the mind distracted, and with it goes the form, the breathing pattern, foot strikes, leaving us too tensed to correct the mistakes we are prone to make. 

But then we continue to run till we see other souls taking to the streets, grateful at their sights, knowing we aren’t the only morons running in the dark. Grateful to know that it will be dawn soon and by that time we would done and dusted ready to take on the day.

Though we may fear the dark of the night we still take to the streets, the parks, to get that run in the still of the night. And by and by we get used to the the darkness around us, not letting it envelope us with fear. The strays too used to the sight of this running soul, giving up the thought of giving chase, just lazily lifting their heads to see the moron who has taken to the street while the whole world sleep. But then there’s nothing that will stop our running feet, not even the dark, the fear of the dark and all it beholds, cause we know they will not stand still.