It continues to rain.
I may eat my words later (and I promise to own it when I do) but I love this weather. Riding home in the rain is fucking religious. Little drops accumulating on my face, the dark, cloudy night sky above me. My michelin tires spraying through puddles that I have purposefully ridden into. On Wednesday morning I wasn’t feeling well and Sam said to me, “You should take the car to work.”
“Are you insane?” I said. “This ride is my favorite part of every day!”
It was overcast and pouring. An angry, wet, cold November day. I pulled on my ridiculous knee-high wool socks and put booties over the top. Then I rode to work… smiling.
Later that afternoon the rain battered my office window fantastically. It was 4:00pm and I was planning to run around 5:30 or 6:00. The downpour was torrential. Rain in sheets. Huge, huge, amazing, pounding rain. I put on running knickers and a technical long-sleeve shirt and headed out early. Screw waiting for the weekday to end. You couldn’t pay me to miss this storm.
The cold air outside felt good in my lungs and I set my nano to shuffle-all and started running. There was only one way to get warm – run.
So I flew. I lengthened my stride and let my smile carry me through the deluge. As I merged onto the Esplanade path two men were running slightly behind me. I determined not to get caught and bounded off toward the bridge, detouring at every opportunity to veer my route directly through a mud puddle. All of the detours meant I had to run even faster to keep the chase group at bay.
On the Hawthorne Bridge I opened my eyes to so many glowing lights. The city was bunkered down under the driving rain, the streetlights shone defiantly.
Omygod, I thought. This is who I am. I am this crazy girl who loves to run in the rain. Right in this moment – I am most me.
Like standing in center field during a close game in the bottom of the 7th.
I was soaked through and flying. When the downpour let up just a little bit I started running through bushes and jumping up to tug on branches so that I would continue to get wet. I wanted water all over me. I wanted to be soaked to the bone.
I kept running and got my wish. The chase group never caught me .
Back on the west side of the river I veered off into the grass and took a diagonal line back to my office.
I felt new.
I am my father’s daughter. There’s no rain yet today but I’m holding out hope. Maybe it’s because there is a large slice of me that is wickedly anti-social. When the rain drives the pansies indoors, more of the world is mine. I have more room to stretch and run. When the water pounds down onto the streets and rivers it drowns out the sound of so much mindless, social din.
Sam says, “Will this rain ever stop?”
“Not until March.”
I don’t even try to hide my elation.
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