Hasn’t everyone around here been doing rain dances and staring with crazed, willful eyes at any clouds that loiter over the Albuquerque sky? We need this rain that’s been falling since early afternoon.
We weren’t careful what we wished for.
My run didn’t start off badly. With the drop in temperature that the hours of rain had brought, I very happily donned my running capris for the first time of the season. They are one of my favorite items in my entire wardrobe. I feel sleek in my running capris. I paired them with a short-sleeved shirt and my rain jacket, and trotted perkily out of the parking lot.
I felt smug that first half-mile, having at last figured out the side of the street least susceptible to the car-gutter-typhoon effect. I even felt an eensy bit nostalgic – cold rainy runs don’t come along very often here in the Duke City, and the conditions reminded me of autumn runs in Virginia.
The run became slightly more problematic when I turned north. Albuquerque specializes in swirly winds – in your face and at your side, but rarely fully at your back. It gets even more fun with rain.
Now, granted it was not pouring. Pouring is when the rain gets in my eyes to the point where I have to keep wiping them just to be able to see that huge puddle right as I’m stepping into it. But the rain was in my face, and my nose started to run. Having absolutely nothing with which to blow it, I attempted a couple of, to use the vernacular, snot rockets. I can honestly say I have no idea how that turned out. Was that rain or snot on my face? Frankly, I didn’t much care. I only hoped when I reached my turnaround point, the swirly winds would grace me with at least a hint of tailwind.
Again: be careful what you wish for.
I hit my turnaround point, and wonder of wonders, had a tailwind! A lovely little gift to nudge me along on my return trip, to get the rain out of my face, and…to…completely turn my rain jacket against me. Forget the sleek feeling of my capris; with the sodden rain jacket I felt about as sleek as a penguin trying to fly. And here I was striving for a brisk tempo pace.
But that tailwind did help, as did a few lucid moments of plain old perspective. Albuquerque’s Race for the Cure is this weekend, and I asked myself, as I hauled my floundering rear end along, how many people are sick or injured and would love to run in a chilly rain with snot on their face, feeling as graceful as a half-inflated hot air balloon?
Answer: probably a lot.
So I finished my run with what I hope was a little dignity – nothing says “dignity” like a ponytail so rain-tangled that after you wrench the hairband out, your hair still looks pulled-back; that is glamour right there! – and made peace with the rain.
Which let up, naturally, when I finished my run.