I don’t know about what I can’t see.
It’s dark when I run in the morning.
It’s a faith-run.
I suppose that the universe, with all its potential and promise, is not set up to harm me….and I run into what I can’t know.
I do this in spite of the smashed copperheads that I see on the blacktop in the daylight.
What I don’t know is out there can’t hurt me.
Maybe there’s a giant pitbull sleeping under one of the shadowed trees?
I don’t know.
But….I can’t add it to some paranoid catalog of potential disasters that I carry in my mental Rolodex.
I can’t do it.
I’d be frozen with fear if I remembered everything that’s ever harmed anyone….and took it all a little too personally.
I would be immobilized.
So…..I run in the night….the early morning night….when only a few cars pass me and, in their headlights, I know that it’s really all just “more of the same” around the black corners that I can see for a moment.
I don’t think that there are giant dogs waiting for me out there.
(Did you ever notice that, at first glance, a bear looks just like a weird overfed black chow? A bear might be out there….but a bear is not a dog. No matter how dark it gets…..a bear is never a dog.)