When August comes to Houston you can’t even get relief from the heat and humidity at 4 in the morning. It’s pitch black and the city has had almost the entire night to cool off but once I open the door to step outside I immediately feel the stifling humidity that we’re notorious for.
More like an overwhelming sweater that covers your body than anything else. You feel uncomfortable from the moment you step into it and you won’t feel better till you’re out of it but there’s nothing to be done but get this run done and over with.
pad, pad, pad, pad.
Your feet beat out a metronome like pace down the dark and lonely streets. Occasionally a car may pass. Usually it’s a paper delivery truck making the morning rounds. Maybe it’s someone getting to work early to get ahead on their work, maybe it’s someone coming home after some personal drama.
Darkness and more darkness hides things here and there. A night heron carefully walks round someone’s lawn and eyes me suspiciously till I pass by and am no longer a danger. A cat lounges on the trunk of an old Chevy parked out on the street. Just barely opening up his eyes to acknowledge my presence and then slipping back into an easy slumber. A spider has carefully and meticulously woven an intricate lattice calculated to snare a juicy morsel. Instead the web falls victim to some stumbling oaf that tears hours of good quality weaving and ruins an entire night’s efforts.
Once the sun rises and rules the land with an iron fist all of these characters will hide back in the shadows till night falls once again. The streets will be even emptier of life.
I run off the street and enter the park. The city sounds fade into the distance and the last rays of light from the street lamps fade behind me. I plunge into total silence and darkness. I tear through a couple more small spider webs. Proof that no one has been here for hours at least. In the 4th largest city in America I am alone. Nevertheless I still get the creepy feeling that just out of my range of vision that someone is out there.
I hear a rustle and I stop breathing. My ears straining to hear the slightest noise. I don’t even think that my heart is beating.
nothing.
Nothing but the rhythmic patter of my footsteps.
The long road home. A few more cars on the roads. Big street lights lighting the way. Not so long ago I would have been achy and tired by this point. Now it’s all too routine. The only outward sign of my effort is the sweat.
I don’t just sweat a little. A virtual cascade of sweat pours off me. The humidity again.
The last few streets. I look up into the eastern sky. Venus is clearly visible above the horizon. Soon the sun will join it. I could physically tackle another mile or two but I have to be at work soon.
I walk in the door and the coolness of the house hits me in my soaking wet clothes. An instant chill. I can hear the rustle of the damp cloth as I go upstairs. My knees are stiff as I bend over to untie my shoes. Have to stretch the kinks out.
I try to take off my sticky wet clothes and they refuse to come off. Finally I have to peel them off. My clothes are literally soaked and dripping wet just as if I had just fallen into a pool.
I wring them out in the tub and see a cascade of sweat pour off of them. The shower feels wonderful after all of that.
Now I am ready to take on the rest of the day.
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