I went running today after work and the sunlight was that shade of yellow that seems like it should be reserved for childhood photographs. The best color in the world to run through. It makes you fast, shimmery, like a little fox darting through intersections, neighborhoods, sunsets. Tonight I made it up through Diamond Heights, further than I had anticipated, but I swear I could feel the endorphins shoot straight from my legs up to my ears.
And then, somehow, I found myself atop one of the steepest hills in San Francisco--one I'd only driven up before. When I first moved here, I was wary of running on city streets, much less scaling these hills, but now--now the hills are all fear and desire mixed in concrete and dizzying height. Now I love running and biking those hills. I love them in the way that when I run up them, I am forced to slow down, to concentrate on the minute movements of each muscle. Speed is secondary to simply moving, doing. And the slaps that my feet make on the way down--bad for the knees, yes, but every third or fourth step I indulge just to hear the concrete respond. To let the earth know that I'm here, not just standing on it, but running down it. And few things are more exhilarating.
All that said, I'll probably hate Daylight Savings when I get up in six hours.