Day 6 -- About Things Watery
I said to Z, it's not going to rain for 48 hours straight--I don't care what weather.com says. And I still believe it, even though at this point the weather has made a credible start on doing just that. Tomorrow is the Oakland Running Festival, which I've been involved in for many weeks through my running club, first as a pacer for trainees and then as an injured volunteer helping supply aid along the various training courses, which have gotten longer and longer as the runners got stronger and stronger. I'm excited for the marathon and in particular for the half marathon, which is the race the people I was pacing are signed up for. I'll be out on the course as a volunteer, as will Z (!), which should be great fun.
Today, pre-race day, has been a wet one. I was determined to get in my "long" run this morning, so out I went, around 5:30, in the drizzle. I made it 6.25 miles, my longest post-injury run to date. I was jogging 9 minutes, walking 1 minute most of the way. I cruised by the newly reopened Albany swimming pool. It looked inviting! Actually, it looked dark, but hey, so did the whole world just then. Ah, you can't tell that to the boids. They know spring has sprung, and they start singing their hearts out long before there's any light in the east.
When I got home, the sun had risen, I think--I certainly couldn't see it through the cloud cover, but the sky wasn't black any more. As I came up the front walk I thought, gee, it's not even raining right now. Then I saw a puddle, and it was madly dimpled from the pummeling raindrops. When you're warmed up and loose, and have been out for a while, it's possible (even probable) that you'll forget it's raining. It happened to me.
Bonus photo: Yesterday, during a sun break, I caught the shadow of this tree slithering over a wall. If it was trying to escape, I don't think it succeeded.
Have I mentioned lately how nourishing it feels to be outdoors this time of year? It seems easier to be open to the now (which is the stated purpose of writing 21 consecutive blog posts), to be appreciative of how slim the gap is between me and the rest of the natural world, when the planet is humming along, engorged, brimming and vital in this, its annual season of rebirth.
Today, pre-race day, has been a wet one. I was determined to get in my "long" run this morning, so out I went, around 5:30, in the drizzle. I made it 6.25 miles, my longest post-injury run to date. I was jogging 9 minutes, walking 1 minute most of the way. I cruised by the newly reopened Albany swimming pool. It looked inviting! Actually, it looked dark, but hey, so did the whole world just then. Ah, you can't tell that to the boids. They know spring has sprung, and they start singing their hearts out long before there's any light in the east.When I got home, the sun had risen, I think--I certainly couldn't see it through the cloud cover, but the sky wasn't black any more. As I came up the front walk I thought, gee, it's not even raining right now. Then I saw a puddle, and it was madly dimpled from the pummeling raindrops. When you're warmed up and loose, and have been out for a while, it's possible (even probable) that you'll forget it's raining. It happened to me.
Bonus photo: Yesterday, during a sun break, I caught the shadow of this tree slithering over a wall. If it was trying to escape, I don't think it succeeded.
Have I mentioned lately how nourishing it feels to be outdoors this time of year? It seems easier to be open to the now (which is the stated purpose of writing 21 consecutive blog posts), to be appreciative of how slim the gap is between me and the rest of the natural world, when the planet is humming along, engorged, brimming and vital in this, its annual season of rebirth.
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