The dark skies aloft were tempered by the glow of the early dawn’s half moon. And as a soft breeze stirred the fallen leaves, so too did my feet begin to stir as I started forth on my morning run. On the surface the day begins as many others over my years as a runner. But today is indeed different. It is my first run in as long as I can remember where there is no goal. Except for that of rekindling the simplicity of merely running.
For you see I have no more races this year. Moreover, I have yet to enter a race in 2015. That will all change soon enough. But for now I am in a state of quietude. A chance to catch my breath, regroup, and recharge for whatever lays ahead.
When I awoke I spotted the edge of my most recent race bib. Number 61 in this past Sunday’s Ottawa Fall Colours Marathon. The race took place on a placid stretch of historical land abounding with mountainous hills and dotted with red farmhouses and radiant fall-hued trees. Much to my happy surprise I would place second in my age group, claiming silver. And so as the furled edge of bib 61 winked out at me from the opening of my well-beaten napsack, a smile of gentle pride pushed the corners of my mouth upward.
It was a perfect send-off to my race season.