Yesterday, Mister mentioned to me that it was too bad it was supposed to rain this weekend. I agreed, since it looked like I wasn't going to be able to get a run in. Mister said he had a birthday party of one of my daughter's friends in mind.
We did, indeed, have heavy rains last night. Thunder and lightning that could only have originated in mythos.* This morning, however, the rain was light. I was debating whether to try to find a weight training VHS I think I still have, when I noticed the rain had stopped.
Perfect, I thought. Bella was also anxious to get out, as she had been in the house all day yesterday.
Deliciously cool--low 70s. Frogs singing. Lovely, I thought.
About a quarter of a mile, the rain started. I'm not made of sugar, I thought.
And then the rain came down harder. Oh dear, I thought.
At the end of the first mile, I was soaked. I made a bad choice, I thought.
But I did make my runs (12 minutes of alternating running and walking), then briskly walked back. Bella, for once, was not distracted; her one goal was HOME.**
I do, however, feel like I've been initiated into another group: Runners Who Go Out in All Weather. There's got to be a badge for that. Electronic code is fine. Somebody make that happen, 'kay?
* The dog shoved her way into the bed at one point.
** I may have the only Lab mix who actively despises water.