I passed by a man who looked homeless and devoid of sleep who asked me where Salvation Army was. I had to slow down, pull out my earphones and told him where it was. It’s mighty far from here I added. Oye, he said, I really need to get there and he walked away. I resumed my run until I felt a cold drizzle upon my head, my shoulders, my arms. I am far from the nearest shade, I thought. And I won’t hurry my pace risking me an injury to outrun this impending rain.
Darn, I didn’t see it coming, no warning about the heavy downpour that followed. No thunder, no lightning. Soon, I was cursing the sky, myself, and the rain for messing my first serious run. I am not even fully recovered from the cold, I sighed, feeling betrayed by the world. I paused under a tree that was thick in foliage. It is Florida, thought I, a few minutes more and this rain would stop. But it poured so long that the tree’s foliage was rendered useless.
So I ran in the rain.
How many times have I ran in the rain before? I ran the inaugural Palm Beach half marathon soaked at least a third of the distance. I ran in the rain to my home when Fort Lauderdale got flooded during Hurricane Irene and my car broke down and I saw exploding generators around me. I ran in the rain everytime I hear the slightest sound of thunder or hiss of lightning. I got nearly hit by lightning when I was a young boy.
I let it pour on me while I ran. The lake beside me became a beautiful and calm and harmonious mantle of synchronous raindrops. The rain had suppressed the sounds of car passing the outer roads. The chirps of birds and crickets were silenced. I could hear nothing but the swishing sound of water pushed out by my feet through my shoes and socks for every stride. And I was happy.
This is the time I reflect on my love of running - it is my chance to embrace and be embraced by nature. The rain reminds me that I am a part of this earth.
Thursday 05/29/14
.70 mile, 10 minute pace
1 mile, 10:22 pace
1 mile, 10:17 pace
1 mile, 10:05 pace
.5 mile, 10:30 pace