Falling into the Black Hole of January

It is Dark times. It is the last day of that month when all the candles from Christmas fail to push back the gloom. It is a season that seems lost in perpetual twilight.

Last year, I fell into the black hole that is January--I remember well. I began the month excited to take my gift cards and Christmas money on a trip to the outlet mall. I even scheduled a day of vacation from work. First on my shopping list: new running gear. Somehow, when the appointed day arrived, I couldn't imagine walking into a sporting goods store without feeling sick to my stomach. I didn't go.

I kept running down in that hole, I kept "training" all month long because I had to. Running is my therapy, my medicine, my drug of choice, and I suppose it's not even ironic when it becomes my greatest torture also.

Now here has come another January, and my reflections on the past year have turned to brooding. I keep running, but my steps are a candle against the Night. I can't push it back forever. So I contemplate my options. I think of taking time out. Sometimes, the opportunity to contemplate ends without resolution, as forces stronger than my will whittle away at my choices.

I am dreaming of Myrtle Beach. I looked through some old pictures a while ago, thinking wistfully, "Those were good times." As if such moments could not be had again. And yet Myrtle Beach is still there, my now-traditional season opener is still on the calendar. After that there's the National Marathon, there's Boston and then on to Luxembourg. On my shopping list now, a new pair of shoes. Probably, this time, not pink.

So ... tomorrow is February.

Hope for Light