Rainy Runs

There is nothing like heading out for a run after a rainstorm. Here in the DC area, the late spring/early summer offers us ample opportunity to get out the door under these conditions. The air seems a little easier to breathe, the trails have gotten a bit sloppy and sometimes you can see a little steam rising off the ground. These are the times I love to lace up an old pair of shoes and see what kind of mess I can make. I liken it to mud-bogging without the aid of Detroit’s technology. After a particularly heavy rain (sometimes during), you’ll probably see me mucking up the trails, thick mud up to my shins and generally looking like a soaked dog. All with a huge grin.

I don’t know what it is about the rain, or precipitation in general, that revs my engine. Perhaps I’m an overgrown kid and I like getting dirty. Maybe it is that little voice in the sub-conscious that repeats the old cliché, “Somewhere in the world someone is training, and when you race them, they will beat you.” It also could be the “Wow” factor. I don’t mind being told that I’m crazy for running in those conditions; In fact, I sort of revel in it! Largely, I believe it to be that I appreciate the extremes of what Mother Nature throws at us. Storms and flooding are interesting to me and I enjoy being a part of them (in a safe manner of course).

As far back as I can remember in my running life I’ve loved the pure soaking of storms and high water. In high school, we had plenty of water crossings on our trails. At William and Mary, we had storms that would fill blocks of the main Colonial drag with 12-18 inches of water. It was hard to resist getting your feet (and knees, butt and shoulders) wet! It was a magnet.

All of this leads to my run yesterday. After the strong storms of the weekend, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to head out and survey the stream valley just behind my neighborhood. I figured the stream would be pretty high, the cement pylons for crossing would be totally covered. When my wife and I got to the stream, we found it to be about 4 feet higher than normal, dirty water rushing its way toward the bay. Neither of us are fools, we’ve certainly seen the videos of people swept away by fast flowing streams…crossing was immediately off the plate. So we chose a path that paralleled the stream, close enough to see and hear the roaring water, but far enough away for safety’s sake. We passed some kindred spirits along the trail, each gazing at that mystical flowing stream. Splashing through some small puddles, we came upon a particularly low section of the trail. Having run this section a hundred times, we each knew the course, but the entirety of the trail was underwater. We continued moving forward, feet getting wet, then ankles, then shins, then knees. At this point I should mention that my wife is a bit “vertically challenged”. I call her Smurfette even if she is just a bit taller than their standard 3 apple heights. The water is getting deeper and we are pressing forward. I hear her stop her watch and I glance backward with a questioning look. She is standing waist deep in this “puddle” and tells me that she can no longer get her knees out of the water, so she has to walk the remaining distance. Fortunately, it did not get any higher and we did not have to swim our way out. However, my wife declined the invitation to make it an “out and back” run…we looped our way back along higher ground. I was pleased to initiate her into the rainy run club and find that she did not entirely hate it.

One note for rainy run days: Make sure you place towels by the door so you do not have to traipse through the house while in drowned rat status. :)