I am downright bummed that today was a cross-training morning.
Sure, my swim was nice (didn't even have to share a lane). Sure, I got a good workout.
But when I left the pool and it started raining -- a heavy rain -- all I could think was how much I really wanted to be running in the rain.
I am one of those people who loves rain.
I have always loved it, including before I started running.
Every summer from the time I was 8 years old, my parents would send me away to camp in the willy-wags of Maine for six weeks.
I loved camp. I got to windsurf and ride horses and do photography and hike and climb and zipline...you name it. But, like anything, it was regimented. We woke up at the same time every day. We had certain activities at certain times. Breakfast, lunch, dinner and bedtime were the same every day.
Except on rainy days.
On rainy days, regular activities were suspended. Breakfast was later than normal. We got an extra period in the afternoons to write more letters or nap.
Rainy days meant a break from the routine, and for a kid who attends camp for six weeks straight, a break from the norm was often quite welcome.
Some people saw the rainy mornings as putting a damper on what we were supposed to do, I saw it as an easy way to get out of a rut.
Rain, to me, always means clean start.
Today's rain may have stopped, and I may not be able to run in it, but that does not mean I'm not going to go home and jump in a few puddles later.
Because I will. With full force.