Don't blink, or you'll miss it.

It was almost exactly as I had imagined it.

I took a job opportunity to work in the schools' library as a student computer tech. I'm only working a total of 19 hours a week split between the two labs, the other being a private lab in the Early Childhood Education Department. My library hours extend well into the evening two nights a week, so far infact that it is beyond the time that any public transportation service runs. So I am forced, literally, to find my own means, to run the distance home. Atleast until the winter thaws, I am expecting the wind, ice, snow or rain, to be my only battle. I certainly wouldn't lose the work hours over it.

When I set out last night, I really had no idea how far out from home I was, nor did I really even care. I want to use these days as my doubles, already having logged a faster morning progression run, and using the evening strictly for base miles. I wish I was running 70 miles a week again, but being balanced on the bike is more important and supports my goals much better. If I fooled you earlier, I am completely happy to be getting in these extra miles. If I'm going to run, I might as well incorporate it into my travel and let my body be the vehicle.

And then in an instant I had blinked. I thought to myself, man, I did it again. I would have to compare this feeling to the ability to teleport. Last thing I knew I was heading out of the AFC doors, and then suddenly I was running my cool down lap around the block. I was left with only one distinct feeling from the run, but it was just enough.

With my headlamp set to flood on the medium setting, light radiated infront of me almost in a perfect 180 degree arc. Simultaneously, this light illuminated the scattered snow fall with my consistent exhales. In comparison to the effect produced by theatre fog and spotlights, i was seeing in contrast. Instead of seeing the clean, focused beams of a spotlight, my fog(the exhales) took the form of drifting clouds. The sky had been so dark and the wind gusting enough to make me feel naked at moments, yet I somehow still managed to find a way to escape the reality. My focus on the beauty of contrast reminded me of why I was out there and what I was working for. Dreams that once felt so far away, now felt as if they were right infront of me.

Even though I blinked, I am noticing that the most important things come unconsciously, when you had no intentions of ever searching for them. Perhaps that is why I like living in my dreams.