Our breath comes as ghostly white puffs barely visible in the dark morning.
We wear fleece gloves, hats, arm warmers under our jackets, and still we are cold. We are strangers to this cold that bites and stings and makes our eyes water.
The headlamp light bounces before us - a meager aid in finding safe footings.
Above us the sky is alight with stars. Stars so bright and so numerous. Stars, hidden behind city lights and car exhaust during my three years of running in Jakarta, are now clear. Orion with his three-starred belt remains fixed and steady. So very bright.
Some mornings we barely talk. Just our ragged breathing - a runner's conversation.
Some mornings we talk. You tell me about school. I tell you about teaching. We joke about being "hardcore runners" when really we confess we're just plain crazy.
And when we're brave, we reminisce about Jakarta and the things we miss. But those are rare and filled with emotion. Sometimes it's safer to stick to school and teaching - the here and now.
Of all my coping strategies with this lifestyle change, with returning home where everything is the same but oh so different, these runs with you are most dear.
Our runs make me feel less lost. My footing becomes more sure.
Somehow in the dark of morning with the stars above us, it is easier to believe that everything is okay. Even more than okay, everything is beautiful,
and wonderful,
and good.
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