Silent Night of a Run and a Vlog

Heartbreak changes us. It makes us see things differently.  We grow.  We shift.  Things take on a new light as we breathe in the world around us.  The past few weeks have been somewhat of a quiet reflection for me as I look back over this year and even the past four or five years. This year has changed me.  I've grown in ways I never expected and come to realize things about life and myself that seem so clear now but that I was so far from seeing before.  And since Friday, so much much more has changed.  In all of us.

But Running seems to be a way to help with making sense of it all.

Tonight was one of those runs that was a gift. A time of meditation and remembrance. Eight slow miles of peace.  Calm. HEALING.  At about mile 3 that I found myself on a path that headed up into the hills of a neighborhood away from the streets and it was then I realized what a gift of a night it really was:

Silence.
The clouds above me were like a thick blanket,
covering me in peace.
The rain that poured HEAVILY over us all day
Had stopped.
Not one drop.
Still.
The air was clear and cool.
Perfect.
Christmas lights peeking through the houses, with their backs to me, as I made my way past them,
Quietly observing.
Dinner time,
Families coming home,
Lights flickering on
one
by
one,
in the increasing darkness.
So Quiet.
So Still.
I've never run on such an unusually quiet night. On a night that I expected the exact opposite as I quickly threw on my running clothes in preparation for braving some rain and wind. I had hoped to just "get it over with" but instead I found myself not wanting the run to end.   It was as if the world was taking a moment of silence. And yet continuing on as normal with their family time and coming home from their busy days away.
I was an outsider,
Looking IN.
A run
So simple.
But so healing and happy.
Heartbreak far away.

Amanda