Last night, I had my first experience with running during a thunderstorm. I had only been out for a few minutes when I heard the familiar crack of thunder come from above, after which I looked up to see the gritty clouds begin to part ceremoniously. As sheets of rain began to fall on my tightly pony-tailed head, at first I felt a bit annoyed, but I quickly found it to be incredibly refreshing and rejuvenating. It was like back in elementary school, when I would go outside during a thunderstorm to play in the rain. After a few minutes of running, my shoes were soaked enough to allow me to stomp through gigantic puddles with no noticeable difference in wetness, so I greedily took advantage this freedom by jumping in any nearby mudhole I could find.
Maybe I can attribute my newfound sense of adventure to a writing gig I secured with the trail race database Backcountry Runner, or maybe it's because I've been slowly consuming all of my fiance's back issues of Outside magazine in the past few days. I've also been spending my evenings planning our mountain-adventure honeymoon to Ouray, Colorado. Or, maybe it's just been so friggin hot around here lately that a crisp summer rainstorm comes as a welcome break to my sweaty, greasy skin cells. Yeah, that's probably it.
At the end of the run, I returned home to my fiance, who was busy working away at the computer. He turned to me and said, "When it started raining, I hopped in the car to come find you, but you looked pretty happy jogging out on that old maintenance road. So I just turned around and came home."
Ah, the joys of being a runner.