Stoutheartedness

Ryanne started Race Across America last Saturday. The week has gone by so quickly.

For me, anyway.

As for her, I can imagine it's going a little slower. But, she only has a couple days of riding left. After which, two years worth of preparations will culminate and come to a close. I'm sure she'll be relieved.

As she set off last weekend, I set off on my own adventure in the woods.

Saturday night found a cool chill and a slow-setting sun.

The crowd was small. The fire was large. The laughs were aplenty. Hours passed.

The sun, long-since set. The moon was bright and peerless. My lungs were filled with an unearthly air.

The trees stood taller that night.

Hazes of semi-befuddlement burnished our faces. They, brought to us by the satiation of nightly spirits and food cooked over the glowing pit that drew us together.

I pulled my Marmot out of its sack and its loft breathed in the air of dying embers. As the fill came alive, I clambered inside, and it warmed me to unconsciousness.

Stoutheartedness would come in the morning.