Running in the Rain
Last night I went for a run in the rain. I almost talked myself out of going. It was windy, the rain looked cold, and I didn’t know that I wanted to get a pair of shoes wet. Just when I had decided to skip my run, I heard this tiny thought in my head. But you love running in the rain.
It was just loud enough to quiet the thoughts of staying warm and dry. Then I could hear my other thoughts. The ones saying the dog needs his evening exercise, so I would need to go out in the rain anyway. And that I have other running shoes that will still be dry tomorrow.
A few minutes later I had changed into my running clothes and was headed out the door. Thoughts of skipping my run were long forgotten. Stepping out of my warm house and into the rain that really wasn’t so cold after all.
It’s easier to get caught in the rain than it is to take those first steps knowing you will soon be soaked. There’s an excitement to those minutes spent wondering if you will beat the rain home. But there is no anticipation when it’s already raining. After a few minutes, that difference doesn’t matter. Because that’s when the adventure begins.
Maybe in those first few minutes you try to avoid puddles, at least a little bit. But then the first splash comes and you feel the water soaking through your socks. By the time you reach the next puddle you stomp, your feet no longer timid.
Not everyone loves running in the rain, but I do. And I especially enjoyed it last night. I smiled as I stomped through every puddle and every time I wiped the water from my eyes. I even rounded a few corners with airplane arms and zoom sound effects.
It felt like the universe was giving me exactly the run I needed. A run I almost didn’t take.
There is one more reason I stepped out the door for that run, and that has to do with my love of books. In literature rain often means a new beginning, a cleansing of sorts. And that’s exactly what yesterday felt like to me; the ending of one thing for the beginning of something else.
This year has been a strange year. That’s the descriptive word I’m sticking with: strange. It doesn’t imply good or bad, so it leaves space for this year to be whatever it’s been for you. I’ve seen a lot of both all around me, the good and bad. So, I think strange fits.
Early on in the chaos of this year I made the decision to view each challenge that comes up for me as an opportunity. At times that has been a challenge all on its own. I know for a lot of people this year will be one of their hardest ever. And I know I’m lucky that it hasn’t been that way for me.
What this year has been is one obstacle after another. But each and every day has also been a new opportunity to keep working towards something. Some days, that work has simply been keeping my head up. Most days though, it’s been a slow grind of continuing to chip away at big dreams.
Eventually, you chip away enough and you start to see the progress. That’s what September has felt like to me. A glimpse at the cumulative effort of the work I’ve done. And a glimpse at how much more is still to come. A middle of sorts that also feels like a beginning.
I’ll take getting to run in new beginning rain on any day that feels like that.
