Ran the Cypress this morning very early, around 5:45.   Earliest rays of light darting through the redwoods and pines that form my running cathedral.  Thinking about the fact that the sun will now pause, pivot and begin its methodical march southward for the next 180 days.  The daily changes ever so small, barely noticeable until you add them up over weeks and months.  Daylight leaking out, a minute or so each day.   I can recall the February training runs on the steps, headlamp in hand helping the steps appear out of the pre-dawn black.  And morning bike rides using an assortment of lights that I haven’t charged for months.

Which is why today — the summer solstice — is both the happiest and saddest day of the year.  Happiest because the daylight on which we feast is most plentiful; saddest because it is slipping away.  The direct opposite of how I feel on the winter solstice when, in the depressing darkness, I cheer myself by knowing that things will get better and better for days, weeks and months to come….