Night trail runs, although my bread and running butter at the moment, always feel weird to me. I enjoy them, generally. Often more in hindsight than during, but hey. There's a certain purity to bashing through the woods on a muddy path, living only in that little dribbly pool of visibility from your headlamp. The world is small, and close, and personal, and anything in the dark to the sides doesn't exist: It's just you and the Cone of Reality extending 10-20ft in front of you. Maybe it's a really short form of goal setting, or maybe it's like the donkey with the dangling carrot. "You want to see more? Come right this way..."
Tonight, I kept pushing to try and run to the edge of my little enclosed, claustrophobic, vision-limited world, but I never got there. It was more than 20ft, I guess. The GPS reckoned 6km. All I know is I ran for 45mins and never reached it. Oh well. Maybe I'll get there tomorrow night.