Running in the Rain

I feel certain that the neighbors think I've lost my mind. Secretly, I fear they may be right.

I awoke this morning to the sound of the rain, lightly tapping on the roof and window, sliding down and dripping into pools below my bedroom window. The morning carried that bluish-haze of not-yet-morning; I just listened.

Shiloh, our bassett hound/golden retriever, was whining. He is, as we say, "weather sensitive" and this morning meant two different things for us. For him, it was a terrible punishment; for me, it was a sweet punishment. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and Shiloh looked at me with those sad, big brown eyes. "It's ok, boy, it's just the rain." I rubbed his head and he whined again. He is not easily pacified.

I grabbed my running gear, iPod, and headphones. This was the first test for my waterproof jacket. I was counting on it to save my beloved iPod. On second thought, I grabbed a set of dry clothes... yes, I was certain I'd need them. Shiloh followed me to the door, tail tucked between his legs. "Come on, Shi. It's ok. Really. Just rain." I smiled at him, but he was inconsolable.

The drive to the old neighborhood took a few minutes. The rain was coming down pretty steady; the temperature gauge said it was 45 degrees outside. Cold. Wet. Run. It started to sound like a bad plan, but I tend to follow the worst of my ideas. I turned up the radio to drown out the wipers and it was an old country and western song. It was awful and it made me smile. Soon, I was pulling into my favorite running haunt: the old neighborhood.

This is the part where I began to question my sanity.

I stepped onto the road. The rain was coming down, not in sheets but not lightly either. Just sweet and steady. Music filled my ears; water was seeping through my running tights. Stretch. Stretch. Deep breath and the cold filled my lungs. Was I drowning? I exhaled and an evil smirk stretched across my face.

Run.

The first thing I lost was my hood. It flipped back and exposed my dry head. I tried to pull it on again but it just kept slipping off. Forget it. Without any cover for my poor head, I knew I'd have to cut this one short. Damn it. Well, I decided, if it will be short, then it will be fast.

I lowered my head and pushed my legs faster. Rain drops were collecting in my hair, slipping down my neck, and sliding down my back. The chill on my spine was unnerving and satisfying. I kept moving, stretching my stride and splashing in puddles. I could feel the water beginning to bleed into my shoes. Rain trickled into my eyes. I ran faster.

The second thing I lost was my mind. As I rounded the corner in the back of the neighborhood, I realized that this was absolutely crazy. What am I doing? Wait, I know what... but why? Why do I do things like this? Then I remembered and that evil smile stretched back across my face.

"Come on, girl. You can finish this." My lungs were burning and I was soaking wet, rain dripping from my hair and my chin. And I was freezing. The folks who lived next door to my mother drove past me in a pick-up truck. I couldn't even lift my eyes to see them. I am insane. And they probably think so too.

God help me.

I finished my run. My body was cold and numb - fingers, toes, thighs, forehead. But I felt alive. I walked a few paces, spitting and stretching. It was a bad idea, running in the rain. I knew it before I did it, but I couldn't help myself. This is how I'm built: crazy ideas with forceful and relentless follow-through. Once I was full of self-destruction; now I temper myself with days like this.

A raindrop fell from my hair onto my cheek and slid down to my chin. That was enough.

Hello New Year

The new year came in and I barely noticed. We were laughing, drinking, dancing... the room was spinning so fast. The music was loud and I felt each note in my bones. Surrounded by friends, cameras flashing, catching us in wild poses and making strange faces, smiling with ear to ear grins, we could not stop laughing. Someone dropped a wine glass. We kept dancing. My focus was slow and uncertain. I heard my name and answered with a glass raised in the air. Everything was out of control and I was at ease.

At the countdown, I was in my Thomas's arms, smiling up into his sweet face. Nothing else mattered. I kissed my husband and hugged my friends. More loud music. Another round of drinks. Camera flashes. Laughter. A deliciously spinning room. I know how to navigate my way through this sort of madness.

Flashes of images and disjointed phrases comprise the remainder of my memory for the night. The sun came up before I went down for the count.

In the haze of the next morning, I only had one resolution. Find my camera.