I set out late at night into the fog, the sound of my footsteps swallowed by the enveloping mist, not disturbing the peace of the deserted town. Small animals scattered before me. The only sound was a train passing by; a train lit up brightly with not a soul on board.
That may sound like the beginning of a horror movie (the 2007 movie The Mist was what occurred to me), but is in fact the true circumstances of a late-night run I did a couple of days ago. There was a dense fog when I started running, and my town really was strangely deserted. I had expected the segment by the train tracks to be the creepiest part when I started out, because it’s in a less frequented part of town even in the daylight hours. It turned out, though, that the portion along the busiest road was most disturbing- I met not a single person on the way, I can’t even remember more than one or two cars passing me. And I might have expected that if I ran at 2 a.m. (which I occasionally do), but if I remember correctly I ran before midnight. My town’s not exactly hopping with excitement, but the emptiness at that hour startled even me.
Despite the “creepiness factor,” the run was actually quite nice and relaxing. Not seeing another single person allowed my thoughts to wander completely uninterrupted; the fog helped the illusion of complete solidarity by smothering me in a thick white blanket, preventing others from seeing me or me them (if there were any others to see).