Flicker

An idle Friday autumn night at Hysham.

On some evenings I run the track at night over at the high school nearby. It’s usually one of those occasions when I haven’t found or made the time to work out during the daylight hours—a common occurance during the shortened days of the winter months. Seldom is anyone present during these odd hours.

As I make my way around the 400 meter oval in what is typically a 1600 or 3200 meter run, my mind can drift almost anywhere. Rarely will I consider the quality of my workout—rather I just hope for it to end quickly.

As I shuffle down the backstretch in my painfully slow pace, my rescue from the tedium comes in the form of a flicker of light above me—just above me. From the corner of my eye a flash will catch my attention. This light is nothing more than a reflection coming from the smooth surface of the stadium floodlights aimed at the gridiron. The reflection’s source is likely one of the nearby security lights of the school or streetlights beyond the fence.

Despite the easy and logical explanation, I’m transported during that instant to some game in the past. Other times I visualize the flicker above as the start of another Friday night football game—where once the lights come up to full power, the fans start making their way to the stands, the teams take to the field for their pre-game warm-ups, and before long the referees are blowing their whistles to beckon the opening kickoff of another game. I suppose during that frozen moment in time these uneventful evening runs become my Field of Dreams.