It’s mind-boggling that a week ago right now, we were packing up to walk in the warm, sunny morning to school (where I would eventually see my sorrowful defeat at a nail-biting footrace – see two blogs ago). But it was about 60 degrees and gorgeous. Today? Not so much.
I had a training run to do this morning – just a five miler; not too bad. It’s raining. It was a run in the rain. I’m actually a huge fan of running in the rain. Most Seattle rainy days are actually just kind of gray, sputtery, mostly-rain-constipated days; they aren’t THAT wet. Um, yeah, this morning? Again, not so much.
The rain today is the kind that you see on Seattle-themed movies and TV shows, like on Grey’s Anatomy. A torrential downpour where at any moment you’ll hear thunder rolling across the Sound (this rarely happens, by the way, the whole thunder and lightning thing). It’s the rain when at any moment Dr. McSteamy or McDreamy will come running in, soaking wet and mcsexy and, let’s face it, also a bit mcslimey. Yeah, that’d be nice. Well, OK, I don’t need a McSteamy or McDreamy, I’ve got a McMikey. (Oh, sorry, did you just gag a little?! My bad.)
This was the rain that I ran in this morning. Things started out fine; I actually even made a couple of phone calls while starting out. Seriously, I did. I’m the crazy lady, running in the rain at 7 in the morning, talking on her cell phone. THAT is multitasking. About two miles in I realized: Dang, it’s wet. This is the wettest run since I trained for the marathon five years ago. With one of my training partners, I ran an 18 mile long run around Green Lake.
We slogged and squished six times around the three-mile path in the pouring, dumping shower of rain madness, questioning our sanity with each squashy step. Now that I think about it, that run was a dry jog in the park compared to this!
So, yes, I’m on my run this morning, and even I’ll admit that it’s raining – it’s not just sprinkling or drizzling, actually, it is pouring. Then, right when I think it can’t actually rain harder, the angels maniacally, giggling with angelic-yet-devious little chuckles, dump bucket-after-bucket of water upon my head. Soon, I have to start pulling my pants up every few steps as they’re being dragged down by the weight of the water-soaked-fabric hanging limply around my ankles.
A mile or so later, I find myself at the bottom of a steep hill. Yippee (said with no enthusiasm what-so-ever), I now get to run up a massive slip’nslide. Now, running shoes aren’t exactly waterproof – they’re actually created in the exact opposite of waterproof. Let’s make them as porous as possible to allow as much breathability as possible; we wouldn’t want any moisture, now would we? My shoes become a slush puddle. With each step, I feel my toes squish about in a small puddle of rain-sweat-combo. I’m no longer careful that I won’t slip on the street; I actually have to pay more attention to slipping and sliding in the mini-bathtubs that are strapped around my feet.
While slowly ascending the hill, I notice that small rivers of rainwater are now gushing down both sides of the street. I expect at any moment to see Jiminy Cricket (or some other cute Disney bug character) floating down the river in his little leaf boat, a twig oar clutched lazily in his hand (bug paw? Claw?). He’d look up, grin at me, and give me a gentlebuggly tip ‘o his hat.
I shake my head like a dog, sending a spray of water about me. The rain is starting to seep into my brain making me delusional. I start thinking about this exact Blog post – brainstorming (ha! BrainSTORMing) in my mind. Thinking how unfair it is that probably my most magnificent Blog posts happen in my brain when I have no way of recording them so that by the time I get to type it (right now), it’s lost 94.28% of the humor and genius. Oh well. Maybe I should carry a small recording device. Then, I’d be the crazy lady who talks into a tape player on her run. Or maybe I should just call my own cell phone on my cell phone (can you do that?) and leave myself 12 Blog-post-dictated messages. Yes, the rain has gotten into my brain.
At mile 4 – as planned – I call Andrea on my cell phone. Andrea is my wonderful friend-slash-neighbor-slash-running partner who is going through Chemo for Breast Cancer. And Andrea, being the rockstar that she is, still joins me for the last mile of my runs occasionally. So, I call her, knowing what the answer will be.
“But, really, it’s just kind of sprinkling,” I beg, disgusted with myself.
Andrea laughs, “Dude, I’m going back to bed. Have a good shower.” Am I that miserable in this wet-madness that I’m trying to drag the Chemo patient out with me? (She later thinks this thought is hilarious).
Again, the evil angels dump garbage cans full of water on to me. So much rain is unleashed upon my head that I figure it’s about time to shake my fist at the sky and yell, “Why?! Why do you hate me so?!” And then, I realize: Ahh, snap. It’s time to find a boat! This ain’t a joke; this is the real thing. The next massive flood is a-comin’. Forget about my family – my boys – who are still a soggy-drenched two miles away all snuggly in their beds. No, each woman for herself. I’m finding me an ark!