Back in the before time I hiked pretty much every Thursday night during daylight saving time. Even though the days were "longer" we almost always came down in the dark. The pandemic killed that tradition and it's been years since I've done it.
With some of the original like minded idiots back in town we headed up our local peak to relive the glory days. As usual, I was at the back of the pack, Tink had a blast running back and forth between us, and the guys were gracious enough to wait for me from time to time.
The town was lit up in the valley 3,000 feet below and somehow it didn't start raining. Perfect night. Now for the down.
As you know doubt are aware, I'm not a runner. I only run when chased and it usually needs to be something big and scary chasing me to make me hustle. I'd forgotten these idiots like to run down the mountains. In the dark. Idiots.
It was great. Sure, it was mostly type 2 fun, but there was a touch of type 1 in there, too. My headlamp lit just enough of the coming trail to let my brain figure out where my next two steps would need to be. Repeat. Repeat. Three miles of down over roots and rocks. We stopped a couple of times to drink or talk, but mostly it was a fast paced descent to the cars.
The next day, my quads were way more sore than the short hike should have made them, but my heart was full. Gosh I've missed running down mountains in the dark.
📍On the lands of the Snoqualmie people.
