The rollerski intervals I had planned for Friday morning got bumped to Friday night upon seeing the amount of rain coming down in the morning. I find it much easier to motivate myself to go do rollerski intervals in 35 degree rain when I'm fully awake rather than happily in bed. Funny, that. That night hooked up my mtb light, put a blinky on my waterbottle carrier, and wore a reflective vest, so even though it was wet pavement with wet pine needles in the dark, I was feeling like Captain Safety. The moon was full, though, and the rain had stopped, so between the moonlight and the occasional lonely street light, the lights I had on my body were more for visibility than lighting.
As I took the last three strides of my last interval, my light died. Fortuitous timing, to be sure, but I discovered that it was indeed bright enough to see by moonlight. I was in a quiet, heavily wooded neighborhood, and skiing alone in the dark was eerie, almost as though I'd stepped into another world. The clouds were whipping across the sky, causing flickers in the moonlight, and they were backlit enough that they almost seemed to glow. The wind was a dull roar through the pines, but it didn't reach me on the road, except in the form of dropped pine needles, perfuming the air with their spicy scent. This world in which I'd found myself was a beautiful place. Partly moony described the mood, as well as the weather.
Doesn't every gal my age spend her friday nights doing rollerski intervals in the dark?