Waterlogged

There's wet and then there's me on Saturday morning. When we got to the lake, it was raining with a side dish of lightning. Luke's cancelled the official run and pulled the water stops. I had a choice --- go back to bed (nothing sounded better) or push through the EIGHTEEN miles that I was supposed to run. The thought of getting hit by lightning was bad, but the thought of putting the run off until Sunday morning was worse.

The main problem with the Saturday a.m. run is that you don't just go about your life and then roll out of bed and run 18 miles. There's preparation. There's beer sacrifice. There's an alarm before dawn. As bad as it is to go through that, it is much worse to do all of that for nothing. All I could think about (standing in the pre-dawn drizzle) was that I was already out there. I was already wet. I would kick myself later if I didn't get it done.

I did two loops around the lake. I will admit a crisis of conscience when I passed my car after the first loop. So easy to just get in the nice dry car and head to my house. "Just run another mile," I said to my feet sloshing in my soggy socks... "You can always turn around." 9.3 miles later, I survived my first 18 miler of the season. It wasn't pretty (and neither was I), but I finished.

Take that, rainy day. POW.