Wet

Of course, because the theme of this post is water, mainly rain, the sun is now shining through my window. I've heard that "I'm never going to stop the rain by complaining," but it feels like I did just that.

The photo above wasn't taken today, but yesterday, as I walked to work along the Embarcadero. It was raining, and the Vaillancourt Fountain looked like a grotesque and unstable craft sinking into the sea. I love that ugly piece of outdoor architecture. One disgruntled critic described it as something left in the plaza by a stray dog with square intestines (I also love that metaphor).

And today--ah, yes, today. I forced myself out the door at 6:15 am. I've been beat for a couple of days, both from my long run last weekend and from working late Tuesday night (till 1 am -- ah, the ad business). It was a dark and stormy night. No, not really, but I love writing that. Actually it was a cloudy, misty morning. There wasn't much wind, the air was mild, and the rain was light. Lovely, huh--well, yeah, until I'd been out there about ten minutes and it started raining for real. I got quite wet. But, as I'm sure Z would attest, I'm not made of sugar, so I didn't melt.

Did I ever tell you that Z and I have run not one but two marathons in the rain? I mean, pouring rain from the starting gun until almost five hours later, when we squished across the finish line, and beyond. One marathon was in Coeur d'Alene, ID, and the other was in Washington, D.C., this last a race where we both came in ahead of Al Gore (who was also very wet).

So the steenkin' rain can't break me. It can, however, make me very wet. I whined a bit, and now the sun is out.

Hey, have a great weekend.