The old man snores up a storm here. It’s pouring. But after yesterday’s trip to Seattle and all the sitting that entailed, I needed to run. Outside. I ran on the treadmill yesterday and that went okay. I spent the early morning wandering around restlessly. I needed to get out and have recess now.
My mom said, “You’re going up to the gym?”
“No,” I said.
She looked incredulous.
“I need to play outside.” I couldn’t help smiling.
Temps hovered in the forties. The rain wasn’t too terrible, I thought. My feet and face got a little wet. My core stayed dry.
I hit the hill. Running outside after breakfast and coffee rocks! I remembered this quote:
“When it’s pouring rain and you’re bowling along through the wet, there’s satisfaction knowing you’re out there and others aren’t.” – Peter Snell
The way back – the 2-mile stretch – of the out-and-back felt different. This time, the rain hit my face, buoyed on the wind. My shoes got soaked. Less exhilarating. Slower going, despite the downward incline.
But I did it. Four miles. In my shoes. In this body, with all its imperfections and shortcomings. In the relentless rain.
I want more. By God’s grace, I will do more.
I have no complaints, only praise.