Yesterday I looked out the window at work, out over the harbour, and it looked like it could rain at any second. We had a heavy rain warning in effect (and in fact I fell asleep to the sound of pounding rain on the windows). I needed to run. I had run just a little over 5K on Sunday and had to keep the momentum going to be ready for the 10K in May.
I figured, meh, whatever, I’ll just go ahead and run for 20 minutes or so on the treadmill. I don’t particularly like the treadmill AT ALL but it serves a purpose when I need it.
The thing is, I got off the bus and it wasn’t all that dark out even with the overcast skies thanks to the time change. It was windy but nothing worse than I had faced in the past; my area is a bit of a wind tunnel to be honest. And like I said, I don’t like the treadmill. And by that I mean I really hate the treadmill.
I walked in and told George I had changed my mind and decided I was going on a “real run” instead. I got home at just past 6:35 and ten minutes later I was wearing my running gear, had had a drink of water, and was heading out the door with my phone and my iPod.
I knew it would be a good run by the time I was at the 1/2 kilometer point. It would have taken something drastic to ruin it. I was in high spirits and had a huge smile on my face and I was flying. I was so happy that I had decided to go outside instead of running on a non-programmable machine while staring at a wall.
Alas, I was about 4K in when I started to feel the rain starting, just lightly. I shrugged it off; I was one street behind mine and could have turned around for home but I really wanted that full 5, plus it wasn’t very heavy rain.
I ran to the end of the street, up a hill, and around the corner only to have the skies open up on me. The wind was blasting straight down the street, the rain was pouring down, and it was driving directly into my face. Admittedly, not being a fan of rain (unless it’s on a day where I don’t need to go anywhere and can spend the day on my couch with a cup of tea and a book), I did a whole lot of cursing. I was running along the street, muttering obscenities to myself, and I wondered why I was doing this.
Then I turned the corner of the street I needed to make my last loop, and the houses broke the wind while the trees offered a very minor shield from the rain, and at the same time I was slapped in the face with good old Runner’s High. I swear if the pharmacology world could re-produce and bottle Runner’s High they could make a killing, but it still wouldn’t be as good as the real thing anyway.
Apparently when you’re drenched to the skin, post-work mascara pooling under your eyes, darkness falling, and you get hit with Runner’s High, the result is a hilarious giddy reaction. I was literally laughing like a hyena, running through the streets faster than I normally go.
George tried calling me to see how far away I was since it was then a torrential downpour but I was so soaked I couldn’t even answer my phone; I tried but my fingers were too wet to swipe the screen to answer the call. Instead I just cranked up the speed and pounded the last block to home.
I was completely drenched by the time I got home, every single layer of clothing sopping wet (EVERY layer) and my hair was so wet I looked like I had stepped out of a shower. I will never willingly go out for a run on a rainy day but being caught out there in it was ridiculously fun. At least I had a nice dinner of ham and scalloped potatoes with a glass of wine when I got back; that helped.
It was my best pace since I rebooted my running (5.2 km in 31 minutes) and it was my best run feeling-wise in a good long time. I look forward to more of those!
*Title courtesy of this song which was a great soundtrack for that last kilometer of running in the rain and also happens to be one of my favourite songs to listen to.