For a moment, I flew
At night in the desert, we ran 1/2 mile legs.
For safety, the Jeep closely trailed the runner. The light from its headlamps were a fence that bounded the path ahead.
On one leg, I asked our driver, Elaine, to turn out the Jeep’s headlights for 30 seconds so I could run with the darkness.
Purple, blue, white, green and yellow stars flashed like chords from a driving rhythm guitar.
My feet pulsed the ground like the beat of a drum.
The cool desert wind washed over my tired and salt-crusted shoulders like a wall of sound from a long-forgotten song.
I stretched my arms out to my sides as I ran. I felt my feet lift from the ground.
For a moment, I flew.
Soaring into the great wide open, for a flash in time, I was guided to another world.
I was swallowed by a simple joy of living that evades me in my work-a-day life.
Coming down is going to be the hardest thing.
