Ah, a full moon. To me, it will always feel like hope, like peace, and the steady strength of knowing and the power of silence. That everything will all be okay. Before I knew my back could not handle running, I ran with my neighbour in the early morning, in the darkness through summer and winter. I absolutely loved loved loved winter running. I know weird. The crisp air, the crunch underfoot, the inky darkness against the blanket of white on the fields. But the best of the best was the full moon. And if we were so lucky, the days when the wind was less, and there was a fresh blanket of snow. It was the most magical moment with the crisp air, and the fields silent in the dark. I felt I could fly and run forever. The only problem was remembering where we left our layers. I would not brave the cold without bundling up even knowing I would be sweating in 10 minutes. Just not happening.