Rainy Daze

In the past, to run or not to run was not the question. I set goals and reached them. To achieve 2006 miles in 2006 I had to run rain or shine, and the last six miles were a breeze. At age 51 the goal for the year was 51 wet or dry kilometers a week. I ran them and then I turned 52.

It's only running with no goal that brings up debate. If you've no reason to record results the alarm, frost and rain challenge the reason for the run. I try to keep this personal parley to a minimum and begin the difficult transition from pajamas to running clothes as soon as possible. Once clad in battle gear, the rest is a walk in the park (that's our secret).

I admit I like the praise that comes after 6 soggy miles, but this morning's mountain run made me wonder if I'm undeserving. Instead of suffering, I was aglow. The tiny beads of water danced on the sleeves of my slicker like the slippery silver balls in the tiny maze game. Keen control of my pace left no puddles unsplashed. I hit each one like Frogger hit the lily pads, smiling and imagining the disapprobation of all good Italian parents.

After a gradual, downhill run my driver picked me up to get on with our errands. I changed my clothes, wiped my wet my face and controlled my mileage. Minutes later, from the warm, dry car I saw another runner through the raindrops on the windshield. I watched him with admiration. Definitely drenched and seemingly cold and tired, I saw a real warrior. Immediately upon giving him kudos I wondered why I hadn't applauded myself. The heavy raindrops hitting him were the same ones I'd just dried, yet my run seemed like a frolic and his a feat.

We're often told that things are easier said than done, but I beg to differ. Sometimes it's just a matter of changing your pajamas. With the right armor, even the heaviest raindrops fall like feathers.