The skies finally seem to be brightening up now, but this morning, drops pounding the pavement, was one of my favorite runs in a long while.
I love the rain. There's no way to overstate it. Give me a choice between an intermittent drizzle and a deluge, I'll take the deluge every time.
Hitting the road for a rain run soaks me to the skin. A little colder, and it chills me to the bone. The water runs into my eyes, my shoes begin to squish and I can feel my socks expand with the extra water weight.
I'll take it all. In the rain, I'm Gene Kelly swinging from the lamppost.
A lot of people might see the skies erupt and retreat to the relative safety of the treadmill; not me. I say, bring it on.
I'll run in the snow and ice, I'll run in the wind and rain. The more Mother Nature feels like throwing at me, the more I get itchy to run in it.
It makes me feel like a kid, gives me a kick as I splash through some puddles and dodge others. Sure, I have to be more wary of traffic as it comes my way -- last winter, while hopping on the shoulder to avoid oncoming cars, I slipped and crashed hard to the ground -- but even that I enjoy. It's a test of reflexes, and keeps my mind from wandering as it might on a gorgeous fall day.
So give me the rain anytime. I'll be the one high-stepping it through standing water with a dopey grin on my face.