Ricky Williams has traveled extensively since leaving the Dolphins before training camp last July. AP

Darkness was descending upon the small Northern California town in the Sierra foothills where Ricky Williams is holing up these days, as the former All-Pro halfback and I were preparing to grab some dinner on a chilly evening a little more than a week ago. One of his favorite Mexican restaurants was a good half a mile away, and when I suggested walking, his eyes lit up like the legions of stars in the cloudless sky.

"After I stepped in the quicksand in the Australian rainforest and cut up my foot" Williams said -- see my story in the Scorecard section of this week's Sports Illustrated for further explanation. "I basically couldn't walk for two months, and it really helped me to slow down in general. I had to make every step count, and now when I get a chance to move around I appreciate it like never before."

Soon it was pitch black -- "a different kind of darkness than in the city," Williams said -- and we were walking down the middle of a long, narrow street without overhead lamps or sidewalks. Each time a car sped toward us, we'd move to the opposite side from which it was approaching. Noticing that I was a little slow off the draw, Williams laughed and said, "I guess you're not as used to being chased down and having to run for your life as I am."

It was one of many references to Williams' dissatisfaction with the Miami Dolphins, the team from which the 27-year-old runner walked away shortly before the start of training camp last July. The reasons for his sudden retirement were varied -- he'd tested positive for marijuana and was facing a suspension from the NFL; he was bothered by the team's lukewarm offer to renegotiate his contract; he felt uncomfortable in the NFL's regimented culture -- but his lack of confidence in the Dolphins' organization should not be underestimated.

"The people on our offense understood why I retired, because they'd seen me get my ass kicked the last two seasons," Williams said. "I'd carried the ball more over a two-year period than anyone in history, and there was no realistic hope that it was going to change. Any team that's played us, their players understand why I left, too."

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Williams remains a huge fan of former Dolphins offensive coordinator Norv Turner, whom he believes was handcuffed at times by ex-Miami coach Dave Wannstedt. When Turner left to become the Raiders' coach, Wannstedt first promoted running backs coach Joe Collier, who lasted only two months on the job before he asked to be reassigned to his original duties, citing health concerns. Wannstedt then promoted tight ends coach Chris Foerster, whom Williams believed would be a mere conduit for the implementation of Wannstedt's conservative approach.

"When he passed over [quarterbacks coach] Marc Trestman, who'd called plays for the Raiders when they went to the Super Bowl, that told me all I needed to know," Williams said. "Dave wanted a 'yes' man."

To Williams, however, the decision to walk away from the $5 million he stood to earn in 2004 went beyond Xs and Os. "There's so much stimuli coming at you in this world, and all of it combines to distract people from what is true and pure and real," Williams said. "One day I woke up and I realized that I was part of the distraction. A few weeks before I'd decided to retire, I told Harvey (Greene, the team's senior vice president for media relations) I didn't want to do interviews anymore, because I couldn't speak the truth in the context of the team, and I was tired of perpetuating a lie."

After traveling the world for several months, Williams enrolled in a school devoted to the study of ayurveda, an ancient Indian healing discipline, and says he is committed to completing the year-and-a-half program he began last month. He is down to 210 pounds, 30 less than his peak playing weight, and does not appear to be in jeopardy of complying with the league's substance abuse guidelines anytime soon. He says he has never been happier and asks, rhetorically, "Why would I want to play again?"

Yet when pressed, Williams won't rule out a return to the NFL, claiming that in the right situation, "I could gain 2,000 yards weighing 210 pounds, which was my college weight." His attorney recently applied for Williams' reinstatement to the league and reportedly worked out a compromise in which the runner would serve a four-game suspension at the end of this season and become eligible to come back in 2005.

Don't hold your breath -- Williams says he neither misses the game nor craves money, which would be the only two compelling reasons to return. "People say, 'You should come back because you provide people with hope,'" Williams said. "But if the hope comes from watching me play, that's not the kind of hope I want to give."

He conceded that a recent arbitrator's ruling requiring him to pay back $8.6 million in bonus money to the Dolphins increased his enthusiasm for taking steps toward reinstatement, which could call such a decision into question. "That's all I ever wanted to do was to force the Dolphins' hand," he said. "They're an organization that doesn't act unless their hand is forced."

Williams said he wishes his former teammates well and is even contemplating a trip to Candlestick Park to watch them play against the San Francisco 49ers on Sunday. Though many people blame him for the Dolphins' 1-9 disaster of a season, one which inspired Wannstedt's resignation earlier this month, Williams insisted, "I couldn't have helped them; they've got bigger problems."

Williams also said his comments in a recent Esquire article, including a desire to buy a large plot of land on the Australian coastline, "probably pissed off [Dolphins owner] Wayne Huizenga. I could see him reading that and thinking, 'I gave this guy all this money, and he ran out on me and now he's sitting there living the good life on my dime.'"(Williams has since abandoned those plans, saying, "I don't really believe that property can be owned. I'll probably never buy property again.")

As for the timing of his decision to leave the Dolphins, which many criticized as having been unfair to the organization, Williams said he was considerate in one respect. "At least I quit before all the fantasy drafts," he said, laughing. "Let's face it -- if I'd quit after the drafts, the fans would all hate me."

Near the end of our meal, we started talking about the real NFL Draft and how people in my business feel compelled to make instant evaluations. "I can't do that," I said, "because I have no idea whether these college players are going to be good pros, and I don't pretend to. The only two guys I've ever been sure would be great pros were you and Michael Vick."

The gray-haired owner of the restaurant came to our table to introduce himself and the chef, an Hispanic woman with a warm smile, and thank us for coming. He did so not because he recognized the bushy-bearded Williams but because we were diners; the two of them then moved onto the next table and continued until everyone in the restaurant had been greeted. It was one of those sweet, small-town moments that convinced Williams that, at least for now, he's in the right place at the right time.

"Do you think I was a great pro?" he asked.

Yeah, I answered -- during the five years that you played, when you were healthy. "I think I could've been better," he responded. "I could've done more individually and helped lead a team to a championship. But it wasn't meant to be. I've had so many blessings in my career and in life, I'm not going to sit here and dwell on what might have been. That was the way my career turned out, and I can live with that."

Soon we were back in the pitch-black darkness, staring up at stars and dodging cars and appreciating every step of the long walk home.

Sports Illustrated senior writer Michael Silver sounds off weekly on SI.com.