Through the Gloaming under Watchful Eyes

So the plan was to run at 11:30, right after a morning meeting. But, an errand popped up that needed to be done. What errand? Well, ok, I had run out of coke and needed to buy a 12 pack. Or three. Yes, yes, I know, I was giving it up, but I fell off that wagon. Now I’m striving for one a day.
Don’t ask me how that’s going.

So I postponed my run until 2, reasoning that I could eat lunch with a coke, work, then take a break.

It was one of those afternoons. All of a sudden, I realize it’s 3. And I have to start an experiment. Arrgh. I finally stepped out the back door at 3:55. The sun is shining, but I know that 10 miles starting at 3:55 means I’ll be finishing in near dark.

I have a nice hilly 10 mile route at work that goes up into the four hills area all on jeep road. For most of it, selective perception lets me believe I am in an almost remote area, the best kind of running. These jeep roads are seldom traveled. Undisturbed snow from two nights ago lies hidden in the shadows of the juniper that cross the road. I run through it and wonder if the jeep patrols will see my tracks. The hillside glows softly yellow as the sun starts to set. My shadow, running in front of me as I head east, has grown extra long legs.

Ahead I see a golden shape move across the road. A coyote, I think. It’s about 150 yds in front of me, but I hope that I’ll see it again, that it will pause off the jeep road so I can get a good look. I try to run softly, though I don’t really know if I am trying to sneak up on it. I keep my head straight forward, while trying to scan the right side of the road for the coyote. “Maybe,” I think, “if I pretend not to see it, it won’t get nervous and run off.”

Scanning.

Scanning.

Scan… ooo movement!

There he is, a good sized coyote in full view not more than 15yds from me.

And he has a friend.

And another… oh my.

Six coyotes within 30 yds, some sitting, some standing, all are looking at me. One takes a few steps to turn towards me, but they all seem calm. Well, this I didn’t expect. I see as I come abreast of them that they stand on a little trail heading south. I watch them openly now, knowing that the pack is not about to be skittish of one little human. They are gorgeous, all golden in the setting sunlight, with gray markings.

I run on – and they don’t move. I hit the meat of the route – the “Thacker hills” we call them. Several steep up (and even a few down) slopes. As I hit the midpoint of the run, the sunset starts in earnest. I am running in the shade of a foothill and I notice that nightfall has a sharp chill bite in these December days. The facets of the buildings downtown reflect the setting sun, glittering in the bright light. The mountains behind me turn pink. I turn downhill, still feeling fine. Contrasted against the deep blue sky, a few slips of clouds hang over the San Mateo mountains in the west and catch the sunlight, turning them brilliant yellow on one edge, and fading to pink on the opposite edge. Sunbeams that poke through the clouds make rays of yellow against the blue sky, and the blue deepens, deepens, as the sunset lasts.

Just as I am idly wondering if the coyotes might still be in the same spot, I see them. I only see five as I run by. They are motionless as before, settling in, perhaps. Their heads turn to watch me as I run by, just enjoying the show. In the shade of the slope, they are but gray forms, without definition. The world slowly loses its color. The clouds now stand out in flame orange, matched only by the color on the rim of the horizon. Mount Talyor, backlit in the west, stands gray sentry over the landscape. However brilliant the sunset, the path now appears dark and barely readable. The last mile I know well, so I run unconcernedly, smiling and replaying the encounters and the vistas of the last 1:40.