Last night was one of those runs that I will cherish. It was a run that lifted me up, even though it was a bit of effort to get out the door. I had issues with getting off my duff, mostly because what had been predicted to be a sunny weekend had turned into something cloudy and misty here in my patch of the temperate rainforest, and by the time I was done what I needed to do, the rain had socked in – and socked in pretty heavy. I tried to wait it out for about two hours, and then said “eff it” and got into my gear. I did some warm up, then put on my rain jacket, my rain gloves (my hands often get really chilled mid-run in the rain,) and headed out into the 16ºC rain-drenched air.
AND IT FELT FANTASTIC.
I don’t mean it felt good. It felt superb. I ran my normal route, I ran it at a good pace, and ran happier than I have in a long time. It reminded me of an image I saw that sums it up best:
I live in this temperate rainforest and will soon enough face the fact that for the next few months, my runs will be wet. I know that I was hoping to squeeze just a few more dry ones out, and I know I will, I know that will come. This is the penance for not running in snow and ice, I understand that. I was wistful for the fact that my previous run had been in 32ºC and sunshine, and I had run 10k on my first ever long-distance running route. I was wanting my run to taste as sweet as that last one.
But you know what? This tasted better, because I did suck it up, I did put my shoes on, and I did go out for that run. And the run was amazing. May all of you have one of those runs this week.