On the Run - 12/17/08

? mi / 40 min (approx) / ?mpm

It was raining. Hard. I could hear it coming down in sheets outside the bedroom window.

Should I run this morning? Maybe I should put it off until this afternoon to see if it clears . . . But then I would be risking not running at all today if it doesn't let up because I will have sole possession of the wee one . . . I could go running in the rain this morning and get it out of the way - that way I would not miss a day . . . I haven't missed a day since I started all of 3 weeks ago . . .
My mind turned to that surfer guy in Step into Liquid. You know, the one who has surfed everyday for something like 30 years or so? His wife left him and he seems to be living in a trailer near the beach, but his teenage daughter (who has never missed a day of school in her whole life) thinks he's "cool".

Or the guy I read about in one of the running magazines, he works in insurance and lost a good friend on 911. He has been running everyday for something like 6 years. He has kept every pair of running shoes he ever owned and for reasons even he cannot explain, owns about 1000 white t-shirts. There is a photo of his wife in the article and she seems to be thinking, "You know, that one surfer guy's wife moved on . . ."

As I lay there, I decided. I don't want to break my 17-day running streak. This morning, I would run . . . provided I could figure out how to run in the rain . . .

So it was settled . . . sort of . . .

I DON'T OWN A SINGLE PIECE OF WATERPROOF CLOTHING

I thought about how I made a trip to the sporting goods store yesterday . . . The wife's parents are flying us up to Seattle for Christmas and I was considering buying an inexpensive jacket and pair of pants that would keep the wind and rain off me . . . something a half-step above a garbage bag with holes cut in it.

Near the front counter was a display with little stuff sacks hanging on pegs.

According to the advertisement, each stuff sack contained either waterproof pants or a jacket. They had a few different colors and I unpack a "Large" red jacket to try on. Too small.

I tried on an "Extra Large" - too small. I tried on a double-XL - too small . . . Wait a minute here . . . I looked at the stuff sack, I had been trying on the women's jackets . . . . And the sales lady had been watching me do it all this time . . . .

It occurred to me that she may be seasonal help and I explained that I had figured out why none of the jackets fit . . . "Oh", she said, "that's funny, I had no idea . . ."

I did eventually find a men's size that fit but when it came time to lay down the $$, I just couldn't do it. "You are going to get up there and it is going to be bright and sunny the whole time and you will be stuck with this jacket that you will never wear . . ."

So I didn't buy one . . . "Huh, that's funny . . . " I thought as I lay in bed hearing the thunder outside.

I came up with a plan and rolled out of bed . . .

I took the gizmo off my shoe that tells me how far I run just in case it wasn't totally waterproof. I pulled on shorts, a t-shirt, socks, shoes, hat, gloves and the piece-de-resistance . . . a faded denim jacket that had been hanging untouched in the closet for the past 15 years. I figured it would get soaked but at least it would block the wind . . .

As I shrugged into it, I thought, "Wow, that's heavy . ." Before it had always felt heavy in a reassuring "I will protect you from the elements" sort of way. Now it felt heavy in a "You think I am heavy now, wait until I have soaked up a gallon of water" sort of way. Well, you do what you can . . .

I had the presence of mind to grab a dry change of clothes and as I loomed over my sleeping wife to kiss her goodbye, she open one eye and exclaimed "Whoa . . .".

"Bye, I am going for a run - be back soon", I said as I kissed her. And then I made my escape.

I was not trilled about running in the rain and I didn't want to get caught in a 10 minute discussion with the wife about why I should be skipping it today . . . How was I supposed to explain my kinship with the divorcee who lives in a trailer at the beach?? or the guy with 1000 t-shirts?

As I rounded the doorway at the end of the hall, I heard my wife call out, "It's raining".

"I know", I replied as I reach for the front door.

The dawg had roused himself and was looking up at me like,"I will go if you want me to . . . but only if you really want me too . . ."

"Go back to bed, Beezer . . ." I replied, and he gratefully headed back to the bedroom.

As I sat in my car in the driveway the rain was pouring down in buckets . . . "Maybe it's not raining so hard downtown", I tried to reassure myself . . .

As I pulled onto the freeway, my cell phone rang - it was the wife . . ."I am considering a trip to the emergency room . . . " she started . . .

"Oh no", I thought. "Somthing is wrong with Annabelle . . ."

"You are going to slip and fall and hurt yourself and we are going to have to run to the hospital on the day before our big trip . . ." she continued . . . .

"I'll be FINE", I replied (hoping I would not have to eat my words later . . . .)

I headed for Seaport Village as I thought the park would be too muddy. The closer I got, the less it rained until finally, as I made my final preparations in the car (putting the ipod, car keys and cel phone in zip-lock baggies) there was nothing but a light rain falling outside.

I took a deep breath, pushed play on the ipod, zipped up the baggie it was in and stepped out of the car.

The ipod picked up the last song it had been playing mid-stream. It was Kareem Salama's "Hold On" and I kid you not, these were the first words I heard . . .

So hold on in this moment
Cause it might be just what you need
And you know that you’re growing
When you find yourself down on your knees
It’s the trials of life
It’s the rain and the light
That make you more than just your dreams

You say that you want to fly in the sky but
You won’t build the wings it won’t be then
You say that you want the love of your life
But you give up too easily
It’s the eyes wide as you fall
That make you see

So hold on in this moment
Cause it might be just what you need
And you know that you’re growing
When you find yourself down on your knees
It’s the trials of life it’s the rain and the light
That make you more than just your dreams

"Yeah, okay . . . maybe a run in the rain is exactly what I need" . . . . And of course it was . . .

So you hear that Seattle?? I am coming to town armed with my denim jacket and zip-lock baggies. You won't break my streak - bring on your worst!

(*ahem* - so long as your worst is 52 degrees with a light rain or drizzle . . . .) Otherwise, I may have to re-evaluate . . . .