We have a friend named Jean who likes to give A a good ribbing every now and then. It's hysterical, and it's not like she's unqualified to dish it since she's a sixty-year old woman who's hiked the Himalayas and just came back from the top of Mount Whitney.
Jean's main jab towards A is his dislike for running in cold rain. "Come on, ya wimp!"
Well, yesterday on our planned fourteen-miler, it was pouring down and really cold. We got out of the car and walked one block, then bailed and headed back indoors.
A ended up running four miles at the gym. Curious about how I would fare if it happened to be raining on race day, I ran around our neighborhood for about four and half miles. I was wearing a raincoat and long sleeves, which kept the rain from soaking me, but also trapped in my sweat. I tried to avoid as many puddles as possible, but my shoes were soggy by halfway through. I learned that running in the rain is tougher mentally more than phsyically, but it was encouraging to know that at least, for me, it was doable. In fact, the worst part of my run was the finish when I realized I grabbed the wrong keys and had to wait another thirty minutes outside for A to come back from his warm and dry gym.
I can't wait to tell Jean how I ran in the rain while A stayed warm on the treadmill. I can already here her telling him: "Ya wimp!"
No comments:
Post a Comment