The early morning rain sings softly to me. Like a lullaby, it calls me back toward dreamtime, pulling me there with its whispery voice. 

The rain suggests a pause, a delay to the usual commencement of ‘getting things done.’ It reminds me to let go. It reminds me some things are beyond my control, so just let go. 

It is a knowing letting go, an almost rueful letting go that must suddenly remember and admit, after all, what matters. 

The susurrus of the rain cradles me in a hallowed space with all the gentle attentions of a doting parent. I am soothed by this quiet listen to the earth, sky, and air that are my home, suffused with the glow of love and trust found there.

rain run

veru10_29_18It starts out as just a sort of misty sprinkling. About the end of mile two, it’s a full-on rain.

Since it’s about 40 degrees out, I wear a couple of layers, including my windbreaker, along with a hat. And, of course, I wear my new running shoes. I tuck my phone into a plastic bag in my pocket.

I love running in the rain. It underscores intent and purpose. It’s deliberate. You know you mean it. You’re standing by your commitment. Nobody else is out. It’s just you and the elements.

Actually, it feels free. It feels real. No umbrella, no taking cover under a roof. No wondering how your hair or anything else looks. It’s just mixing it up with exactly what’s happening out in the open air.

You feel the raindrops on your face, cold and bitey. You try to keep various parts of you dry for awhile, but eventually give up. Although I have to say, the windbreaker definitely does its job.

As long as you keep moving, you stay warm enough, and it feels good.

Post-run, it’s a different story. The full sogginess of things finally becomes apparent. Socks are soaked and feet are cold. Everything, actually, finally starts to feel cold après run. Hat, gloves, jacket, pants, yup, everything gets quickly hung up somewhere to dry out in the hurry to get warmed up.

And that hot shower?

Whoa, you know you earned how good that feels.