(really. there’s nothing interesting here. i’m just posting this for my own sake. of course, if you’ve already read everything else interesting on the intarwebnets today, read on…)
Bozeman is SO beautiful. Our long fall continues…
It seems the beautiful days in the fall are especially so– made more beautiful by the contrast of days of rain, of cold, by the quickly (but oh-so-slowly) baring trees…
So when we have days like today, I’m reminded that I owe it to myself to get outside and enjoy. To eat lunch outside, on a favorite patch of green grass by Linfield Hall … to take a walk, or go for a run…
It being a BEAUTIFUL evening (the sun set around 7:00, but it was still at least 55 degrees when I got home around 7:15), I was compelled to go run. Had to. Nothing could haev stopped me. Plus, there was a full moon last night, so there should be plenty of light– or so I thought.
Eschewing my typical Peet’s Hill route (for whatever reason) I headed south, merging on to Bozeman’s vast (but labyrinthine) trail system near the Museum of the Rockies. I took an East fork, ran through a few quiet blocks of subdivisions (it’s funny– I don’t know any college students that live south of Kagy… “it’s where Bozeman lives,” I thought as I ran through the dark and quiet streets…)
(One of my favorite things about Bozeman is the scarcity of light pollution. Most of Bozeman’s neighborhoods south of campus don’t have street lights, except on major intersections. So … it’s DARK at night. And SO quiet.)
Soon, I was back on a trail, again heading south in the dark. I should mention that it was dark–profoundly dark– the sun having gone down an hour before, and the moon being no where in sight.
It struck me, for the two-hundredth time, how beautiful Bozeman is. On a perfectly still evening, in the darkening sky, I could barely make out the blueish silhouettes of the Gallatin Mountains, in the southern sky, keeping watch…
I meant to turn off the trail on to the golf course (I’d been down this trail once before … in the daylight), but when I got to where the “turn off” was before (not an official turn off), it was so dark I couldn’t find it. I didn’t much feel like crossing the marsh in the dark, so I just kept running on the trail down path I’d never been on before … in to the great unknown.
The trail soon turned into dense and dark(er) woods. At first, I swatted imaginary branches (eager to poke out an eye, I was sure). Soon, though, I began to ride the adrenaline rush of running down a narrow trail, through thick woods, in near pitch darkness. Scared of tripping, of a branch I couldn’t see, of SOMETHING, I forced myself to run faster. And faster. Down unknown, twisting, turning, dropping and inclining trail.
And GOD, it was FUN.
The trail forked, and I suddenly found myself thinking “gee, this looks familiar”. I realized that it was a trail Kimbree and I had been down at some point, this summer, on a similarly dark night. Which meant that I was way south of town.
Sure enough, twists, turns, briers and brambles later, the trail suddenly dumped out on a pavement cross-street– Goldenstein. Well south of Bozeman. I went with it. I ran east, wondering where Goldenstein led … and ended up on south Church. I ran on Church–a narrow and busy road– for what seemed an interminable distance. Eventually, I found myself somewhere familiar, and took a short-cut on to the golf course.
Running across the golf course–running straight toward the low-hung Big Dipper–I was treated to two phenomenal meteors. Obviously, running, I was watching in front of me but both were so bright I noticed them in time to see their long, brilliant streaks across the night sky– two of the most spectacular meteors I’ve ever seen.
I ran across the Centennial Mall (on campus) and screamed like a maniac as I passed Montana Hall–perhaps the first time I’ve ever really felt a “runner’s high”.
And now I’m home, showered, fed and beered. I’m reminded, once again, how privileged I am to live in Bozeman– and how much disservice I do myself, every day I don’t spend an hour or more outside…
