My computer’s clock says 12:31 AM.

I shut the lid on my MacBook Pro, change into gym shorts and an old T-shirt, lace up my shoes, and lock my door.

There’s no one outside. Everything’s quiet as I walk down the street from my apartment to the Intel gate on 15th Avenue.

A single car whizzes by. That’s my signal to start running.

Off I run. Running, to nowhere in particular, just running and thinking. Running and thinking.

As I pass through an empty business park I am left alone with my thoughts. My feet pound the pavement as I remember days that aren’t in the too distant past, when I ran like this to the sound of a military cadence early in the morning.

This morning, I am running of my own free will. I round a corner to the sound of my own cadence in my head as I recap the day.

In my heart I sing a personal psalm to the Lord. Thank You for giving me wings to fly. Indeed I shall run and not faint.

The street lights guide my path as I reach the halfway point of my run. I turn onto a side street and continue jogging.

My upper body tells me to stop. My mind tells me it has had enough, but I can’t stop — my legs and feet continue to propel me onward to my destination.

I receive a second wind — I increase my speed as I turn the corner to the home stretch, back on 15th Avenue once again.

My stomach is screaming at me in pain. My destination is only a few hundred yards away!

In my mind I see my family, I see my friends telling me to push, run faster, run harder, SPRINT to the finish line.

I turn the final corner to the left and break into a dead sprint. There’s someone ahead of me and I must catch him! People are on their feet cheering as if it’s the Olympics!

Faster, RUN FASTER! I catch up to the man just before the finish line — he looks back at me to gauge how fast I’m closing the gap.

His action of turning his head around slows him down just enough. I seize the opportunity by extending my right hand, and in a photo finish I break the tape before he does.

He collapses to the pavement and hangs his head. I walk over to him to console my opponent.

Instead, he looks up at me and smiles. “You have run a good race,” I can hear him say.

The solitary buzz of the light above me is the only sound I hear now. The trees and houses that line the street, my only surroundings — the neighborhood is quiet and peaceful.

I walk back to my apartment, respecting the neighborhood’s noise ordinance as I slip through my front door. Another race awaits tomorrow.

Thank You again Lord, for giving me wings to fly.