THE MAGNIFICENT FIVE

February 1, 2011. There is no picture, except that which is now lodged in my memory. My camera could not pierce the darkness to capture the moment, but in my mind it still sits there, vivid and compelling. I was at the bottom of Cat Hill, they were at the top. Five runners, their frozen exhalations hung above their heads, hanging in the air around them. The light from the street lamp illuminated the space between their bodies and between their legs. They were like stick men in the distance, but with muscle and mass. They walked slowly toward me, ambling, talking, casual. The shadows bounced off the wet roadway, shimmering from the drops of sleet that peppered my face.