Sunshine! I thought with anticipation of all the day's adventures that would ensue from this small realization.
It has rained steadily for two days, with no reprieve, and I've been itching to get outside.
So I tardily got up, stretched, and opened the door to the backyard to let my anxious pooch out for a pee. Upon opening the door, we realized that this little ray of light had taunted us. It was cold and overcast. Still, I saw the sun trying to poke through and I knew, given some time, that it would be victorious.
So I puttered around a little. I got the paper. I made breakfast. I cleaned the apartment. I brushed Beamer. I went to the laundromat. I called some friends. I chatted with family. I procrastinated on the Internet.
Then, a bigger ray of light danced on the kitchen table. I said to a friend: I am going for a run today! The sun is shining! I can't wait!
I actually haven't been running as often as I'd like. Most in part to the after-effects of bootcamp every morning, which leaves me void of energy and working muscles for a good 24 hours before I do it again. So I savour the weekends when I can go for a jaunt, breathe in the fresh ocean air, do some sight-seeing along a new route, and think things through. Running has always been therapeutic for me.
So I put on my gear. Gleefully talking to myself and my dog (Yay! I'm going for a run!)
I felt strong!
By the time I finally made it outside it was a little after noon.
The sun was doing its best effort to push through the clouds. It was breezy. But nice.
I set forth, Lenny Kravitz on my iPod asking me: "Girl, where are you running to?"
I had a good pace. I felt strong and full of energy.
THIS is going to be a great run.
I took 6th Avenue to Alma so I could see some different scenery, then ran down to Point Grey where all the ritzy rich live to admire their homes and scoff at their gas-guzzling, enviro-killing hummers, locked gates, and manicured gardens. About 3 or 4k into this jaunt, I felt a drop of rain.
Then two drops.
Then, within three seconds, it was a full on downpour. My friend, the sun, had lost his battle. The dark clouds moved in full throttle with their onslaught.
The rain was hard but cool. So I decided to continue. After all, being a West Coaster now, I am going to have to learn to love the rain. And, as much as I'd like to believe that I'm made of sugar, sadly, I am not. And I won't melt.
So I carried forth with conviction!
Within a few minutes, however, I was so wet that my pants were starting to feel heavy, and I was tripping over my pant legs, which had grown a few inches with the onslaught of rain! Although I'm really not one to pay too much attention to what people think, I worried that the heavier my pants got, the more likely I would be to accidentally half-moon passersby! Every few paces, I pulled up my pants. It was hysterical, to the point where I just stopped running, laughed at myself and this silly situation, and walked home in the rain, sloshing through puddles and dragging my pants legs behind me.
Here I am post run.
Wet.
But happy.
(Those aren't beads of sweat. They are beads of rain clouds!)
Oh, Vancouver. How I love thee.
