Without Sense to Come Out of the Rain

I have a history of running in the rain.

My training schedule doesn't know it's raining. 

That's too bad . . . because it's obviously a great day to lie on the couch, eat homemade fudge, and watch Home Alone for the 1,000th time with the boys.  

Even our dogs look outside without longing.  Everyone seems content in the warmth of our cozy home. 

Everyone but me. 

I have very nice friends who keep their running shoes looking brand new by never running on trails or in the rain.  My shoes stay clean for about 15 minutes before they are wet and muddy; and partially due to the abundant Georgia humidity, they tend to stay that way.  I've been known to use duct tape to hold together favorite pairs for a few more miles.  

Today, my training journal clearly has the word RUN written by today's date. The gym was closed and I'm not a fan of treadmills anyway.  It has to be outside for me.  I'm training for my first triathlon-- a half Ironman distance-- and with only four months to go, there is no time to spare.

After checking weather.com numerous times and realizing that they don't seem to be able to predict breaks in the rain any better than I can, I made the decision to put on my cap and head out the door.  

My shepard, Apollo, leaped like a jumping bean in circles around me.  Until we walked outside; then his head and ears drooped and he ran to the car with his tail low.

Fog and pouring rain; but warm, I reminded myself.  Warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt, even in the rain.  This is not crazy, I told myself.  I'm just going for a little run.  People do this.  This is not weird.

One of the very nice things about pouring rain is that you won't meet many little old ladies walking their tiny dogs on flexi leashes.  That is very important when you own a dog who likes to eat smaller dogs.  Although Apollo is a wonderful running partner, and certainly keeps away the bad guys, we are normally fairly limited in where we can run-- no popular bike paths or sidewalks for us.

Today we had the world to ourselves.  Through the misty afternoon of steady rain and thunderstorms, we trotted along and began to enjoy ourselves.  The bike paths, sidewalks, even the town square-- all belonged to us alone.  Water droplets hung heavy on the bare tree limbs.  Small frogs, confused by the overly warm temperatures, congregated in pools and chirped their amorous songs.  Deer trotted quickly away from us, but not before Apollo alerted me to their scent.

After a little over eight miles, we arrived back at the car, hopped in, and drove home.  Completely soaked: dog, car, me.  Yet strangely happy; marvelously content.  Oh, yes!  That's why I do these things that others think are weird-- running in the rain, training for marathons and now triathlons.  This peace.  This calm.  Merry Christmas, everyone!

Friends Mattie Moon and Tod Davis-- who run with clean shoes
at a recent 50K relay.