Lessons In Running In The Rain

I awake on a Sunday, what has come to be my favorite day of the week. I let myself sleep in, knowing my body needs the rest, despite my mind which is delighted with the prospect of getting so many things done, things I want to do. It is a gray, December day. I take Wally for a walk aware of some light rain drops every now and then. Realizing that it is likely to come down in greater quantities soon, I have the thought that I should go running now. But, it is not the order of events that feels good. I want to have tea and do some writing first, start laundry, meditate, and then go running. So, of course, by that time, it is pouring. 

I get dressed in my running gear and step out into the lobby of my building working up the courage to join in the rain. There is no wavering in the fact that I will go, but just that initial self-motivated push that I am waiting for. I stand there and think about discipline and concentration and that this practice of running, like the practice of meditation, is the ability to stay and do it no matter what. To run even if it it would be easier to stay in a cozy, clean, warm apartment. To stay on a meditation cushion, allowing the anxious thoughts to be there, even if it would be easier to get up and get busy doing things. A neighbor comes by and comments on the fact that I am about to go running. He talks about his own intentions to get going on some training for an event and then encourages me. That push was handed to me like a gift that I am only realizing now as I write this. These are one of those subtle and beautiful acts of help we often receive and fail to appreciate. I step outside and go.

I enter the trails in the woods and quickly see that it is going to be a messy run. In the first minute, I feel the sensation of cold water seeping into the mesh fabric of my sneakers. I think to myself, "already!" But, then I say, "ah, this is what cold water on my feet feels like" and I run on feeling the sensation and that it is really okay. It is actually fun. I then find myself navigating through the rocks and puddles and mud. I discover that running on the rocks, which I would usually avoid, is the best option. It is this deceptive thing where you might think that the smoother part is safer, but it is hard to see what muddy parts are slippery. In fact, sometimes you need to stay on the rocky path for a while to find your way to a more secure footing on solid ground. I get through the trail and enter the road, at this point, fully drenched. My pants are sticking to my legs and I feel the cold water against my thighs. But, I am delighted. I am still navigating puddles and cars against narrow shoulders. There is an elegance to it all. It is not about plowing through like in one of those warrior races that are now in fashion, where you dive into mud and climb through muck to get to the end. It's about making decisions of which puddle to go around or through. When to jump and when to just feel the messiness. There is grace in the mud. I am now running on the smooth open, curving road, feeling strong and wild with freedom. I am reminded that we can do anything if we commit ourselves and we won't melt. It is simply experience and sensation when we don't label it as good or bad. Most of all, it is the courage to stay that moves us.

I run toward home and see a hubcap on the side of the road. It is on the forest side and sitting in leaves. I run passed it, but as I run on, I think no one will see it, so I turn back and prop it up against a street sign, hoping it gives the owner a chance to claim it. I am sure it was my experience of opening through the run that allowed everything in me to expand. The world becomes larger than just me. Thank goodness!

I write this because whether you run in the pouring rain or not, I am sure you, too, have an experience of staying with something, of concentrating, even as forces outside and in attempt to pull you away. When the timing is right and we have enough of whatever it is to be able to experience what is there and not back away, we discover some other kind of freedom and joy and aliveness that is worth it all. Do you have a memory of such an experience? I would be honored to hear it in the comments below. Reflecting on it, reliving it in words brings the feeling back and reminds us what really matters, what makes us feel inspired in this life. We can help each other stay with ourselves and in doing so, we are able to arrive for others. What a beautiful thing.