Sunday, February 21, 2010

Serves me right

My husband and I run on the weekend. That is what we do. Now when I say run, I should specify that I jog, slowly. But I go. Most Saturday and Sunday mornings I get out there and move my body for at least 30 minutes. I know, sign me up for the Olympics now. Sure, I could do more, and recently I have started to go the Y an additional two times a week to use the elliptical machine or the treadmill, yet I would hardly call myself an athlete.

So this morning I surprised myself. I drained my morning coffee put on my running shoes and peaked out my front door. Rain. Well, light sprinkling really, but it could have been an easy out. I could have traded my sneakers for slippers without an ounce of guilt. But instead, I shrugged my shoulders and told myself, how bad could it be?

At first it was quite lovely. Running in cool air with light mist on my face. All of the colors made more vivid with moisture. The streets were fairly empty, but I jogged passed cafes packed with the Sunday morning crowds of coffee drinkers and brunch lovers. It felt cozy to peak into a morning that I used to know pre-kids. As I trudged on the rain started down a bit harder. My hair was quickly becoming fully soaked. I passed by an occasional walker with an umbrella, and saw people rushing to their cars covering heads with soggy newspaper. These mostly dry people must have thought I was nuts. Or better. They probably mistook me for a dedicated athlete. One that could not bare the thought of missing out on a morning run. Perhaps they even believed it was a necessary part of a pre-race training regiment. Who else would be silly enough to be jogging, in an almost-down pour? I suppose if they looked closely enough they would see my lack of dedication. I was hardly prepared for such an outing. I was wearing moisture absorbing sweats after all, instead a more appropriate waterproof outfit. But let them think that.

A little over half way through the adventure, my clothes heavy and sopping, my head cold, my feet sloshing about in my sneakers, I realized that I had felt a sensation very close to crying. My cheeks wet with raindrops, my heart rate elevated, I could have been crying. I should have been crying. This was a miserable experience. One to never be repeated.

I wish I could say that I spent the rest of the day refreshed and energized from morning exercise, but instead I felt the twinge of a sore throat coming on and my eyes have burned so badly that I am starting to reminisce about a "Different Strokes" episode from decades ago, where Kimberly's hair turns green because of...acid rain. Could acid rain be burning my eyes out? Serves me right.

1 comment:

  1. Wow, I thought I was the only one who remembered that Diff'rent Strokes episode.