I've had a mental block.
I am a runner and have always ran in the dark when the rest of the family is sleeping (the only possible time). This time has always been special to me. It provides uninterrupted solitude, a time to think, reflect, plan, and pray. I have come to cherish this reprieve from the daily grind, like no other activity.
My minimum outdoor temp for running is 50 degrees. This means that I don't run outside during the winter months. I use my indoor gym equipment instead. When spring temperatures arrived this year, I dug out my cool weather gear, strapped on my Garmin 4Runner and heart monitor, but for some reason could not walk out the door into the pitch black night. I made several attempts over the course of the past month, but was unexplainably gripped by an unknown fear.
I know my route, my neighborhood, neighbors, and their dogs. I know the other nocturnal runners and the night-shift workers. Why, then, after all these years, have I been so fearful of late?
Someone suggested that it could have something to do with my maternal instincts and a subconscious concern for my own safety for the well-being of my girls. I don't know about that. I've never been scared before. I think I watched too many episodes of "The First 48 Hours" during my winter break. I've been doing this long enough to know that my biggest concerns should be snakes and roadkill, both difficult to see in the dark, but the imagination can convince even the most reasonable gal that there's a rapist lurking in every shadow.
Anyway, I refuse to let nerves keep me from doing something that I love dearly. I said a long prayer on Friday and hit pavement. It was wonderful, peaceful, and so quiet. I don't know what was going on, but I'm glad that it's over. Gotta run now!