Dawn Patrol
I leave the house in the morning twilight to run on the trails before they get crowded with stir-crazy runners, hikers, dogs, and kids. Cool, misty air greets me, wet but not rainy. I set my watch to “start” and head down through my neighborhood, past the playground now draped with yellow caution tape, and onto the trail. Regina Spektor plays in my headphones but does not block out the sounds of spring-drunk songbirds or the giggling creek.
I quickly discover I am not the only person on dawn patrol. A woman comes down the trail toward me, slim, older, wearing a fluorescent vest. As she passes me she covers her mouth with her mitten, murmuring that she does not have a mask. Her golden retriever, oblivious to such human fears, prances alongside, lit up like the Prince of Christmas in flashing lights. I spy a hiker in grey ahead of me, and while I gain on him with my combination of run-hiking, I realize he speeds as if feeling the virus on his heels. I am then caught up by a trail-runner, a fast, skinny man in electric blue tights, me pulling over into the brush so he can pass. I am nearing the top of the first, steep mile, seeing the grey-shirted hiker in front of me and seeing yet another runner coming up behind me.
As I crest the hill, wondering which direction my trail companions will take and if we can avoid each other, I laugh. It’s like an outdoorsy version of hide-and-seek or reverse tag—don’t catch the runners! And I don’t. They all disappear into the mist, choosing directions different than mine or keeping paces I can’t match. I see none of them again.
A while later, I run down a section of trail and look up into the forest. New leaves emerge from trees, white blossoms bedeck branches. Trilliums peek proudly from the forest floor, among the stable ferns rolling their fronds at these seasonal upstarts, always so proud of themselves. My heart rushes with love for this place, for these trees and birds and underbrush and the trails that let me come close to them. I feel air rushing past me as I open my arms wide as if I can hug the world.
