A Runner’s World from a few months back had a Q&A section. A reader wrote in asking why running in the dark feels so fast. The columnist responded that the lack of fixed visual points of reference, especially in distance vision, obscure our awareness of our pace. Our perception of speed is increased significantly.
Running in the dark feels secretive and intimate. With a friend, it feels like a duet of adventurers, fueled by stories that are easily imagined against the backdrop of a night sky. Alone, it feels quiet, almost subversive. Aside from the foggy amber streetlamps, there is little to catch the attention of a wandering gaze. Windows framed by open curtains project scenes of living out to the street; the mundane wrapped in coziness. On clear nights, with the slightest sliver of moonlight, the stars remind me that I am small. I feel like a mouse scurrying among the tall grasses, unsure as to whether an owl is watching.
The world is turning, and I am running, and we keep going.