Ran my usual 3.2 miles (5K) over my measured route after work.
Days are getting shorter already I can tell. When I slipped on my New Balances and hit the pavement the sun was down. A quiet evening. A little girl playing her guitar on the stairs leading to her house. A woman saying hi with a truly angelic expression on her face, like she'd also like to run but for some reason she can't and she is blessing me for my effort. A vicarious celebration of life. It's like I represent all those who'd like to run but can't. A strange thought and I don't even know if it's true or not... The things that a brain thinks when its blood supply is doubled :-)
Squeal of happy children at play echoing from the street beyond. May they always be healthy, at play, and screaming with joy. Temperature in the low 70s. Perfect for a run. What a lovely evening. Street lamps come on live.
Three different layers of "cricket" sounds I hear.
One layer is constant, like a drone, a hum, an unending din coming from inside a sea shell.
That is punctuated by short bursts of much-higher pitched staccato arias, rapid riffs, as it were. More actually like the sound a razor blade makes when pulled across a corrugated metal roof. Sharp and nasty.
The third layer is something in between. A little longer but less pronounced than the "razor blade."
I don't even know the names of these bugs. I just become aware of them when I'm out there running and when I'm waking up to all these wonderful variety of sounds and smells out there.
"Becoming aware" is one of the joys of running, for sure.
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