The weatherman tells me that three storms are coming to bombard Northern California. Goodness knows we need the rain.
I know about rains. My son and I have danced in warm summer rains. We have huddled by a fire to listen to the icy, winter rains.
I remember the warm tropical rains of my childhood and the ping-ping-ting-ting sound it made on the tin roof of our house.
On rainy nights, legions of frogs raised their throaty songs in the darkness. I thought it was odd that I never saw them during the day, but at night, you could hear them singing the evening away.
I was about 4 years old when I developed my fear of earthworms. After a rainy evening, the morning revealed piles of squishy little corpses all over the sidewalk. My friends and I were running around and playing hide and go seek. I decided to run through the garage to find a good hiding place. It was dark, but I knew my way to the back door that led to the house. When I reached the back door, I happened to look down at my flip-flops. My little feet were covered with the worms that tried to escape the rain. I screamed to high heaven.
These days, I find myself running in the rain. Boot camp meets outside, rain or shine. At 4am, I heard the deluge on our windows and roof. One other hardy soul and I met our instructor at 5 am. I armed myself with a rain jacket and two pairs of pants. The rain jacket helped, the pants didn’t. Within 10 minutes, I was soaked.
There’s one thing I learned about running in the rain. You gotta commit. You can’t think of the worm guts that just smeared your hand while you did a push up. You ignore the winds that push you off-balance while you’re jumping through agility ladder drills. And is your hat soaked already? Try to think about that hot shower waiting for you at home. Never mind the squishy sounds your socks are making in your shoes. Shrug it off and maybe schedule a manicure later.
Suck it up, Cupcake. It’s all part of running in the rain.