Midnight and all's well

Dashing through foreign woods at one in the morning evokes an eery sensation in this novice jogger. I started this run in a familiar neighborhood, but found myself enticed by the dark forest hugging the river. My eyes grew wide as I adjusted to the lack of streetlamps and felt for footing on roots and rocks. What is perfectly normal and harmless in the light of day takes on a suspicious and ominous tone under cover of darkness. The sounds of scurrying squirrels are ubiquitous and joyful under the sun's loving gaze, but an cracking twig or shifting shadow below the mystical moon terrifies me at this hour; raccoons? skunks? possums? werewolf? drug dealer? indigent with nothing to lose? The possibilities are endless, and thus I pick up my pace. I run hard, not sure if the thumping in my chest is from my stellar workout or merely the powerful palpitations of fear. Yes, it seems I am still afraid of the dark. I should qualify that statement though; I am not afraid of the dark per se-- I am simply afraid of the evil and scary things that lurk in the dark: monsters, goblins, small town gang members, owls, insomniacs, and other people stupid enough to sprint through the woods at one in the morning. To up the ante a bit, I ended out the run by evacuating the woods and jogging by an abandoned industrial park, the railroad tracks, and some sketchy overpasses. I decided to find all the most dangerous places in Ann Arbor in one go of it-- it was like I was hunting for deviants in a winded and weakened state, just to see if I could survive an adverse encounter should one occur. No deviants were found. And I survived.