Running is some sort of sickness, I'm sure. Today I was determined to run. A long run. I had a race last Saturday, and after feeling unwell the past 2 days due to tiredness, I decided I MUST run today.
It was pouring all night. It poured most of the morning. I watched the sun attempt to break through the puffy grey fall rain clouds. It failed. Around 10:30, my mom called. I peered out the window, It was not raining. I told her I was bringing the kiddo up, and was going to run a loop there.
I suited up, in shorts and sleeveless shirt. I thought this clothing would be ok for mid-sixties. I pulled on my five fingers, got the stuff together for the kid, and peered at the sky as I threw us into the car and got moving. It's a 10 minute drive to my mom's, and on the way, the sky opened up. I sighed inwardly. I kicked the wipers up to high, sang Beatles songs at the top of my lungs (I'll follow the sun, of course), and the rain was back down to a sprinkle as I pulled into the driveway.
I stepped into my mom's and the downpour I had driven through on the way caught up. Sheets of rain made the leaves on her trees dance. I flipped on the weather channel and sat, feeling slightly defeated. The rain suddenly stopped and the weather channel confirmed the shower that had hit would be the last for a while. I fled.
8 miles. On mostly dirt roads, my feet sinking into them slightly as I went. Trees turning, being sprinkled by trees still wet with rain, running past an old farm, clicking at horses as I ran by, admiring the low deep grey clouds... but it didn't start raining again. I got a bit misted on during the last mile, but... it was a great run...
Tomorrow, I will plant my newly arrived garlic.