Call me Rainman

A little rain never hurt anyone.

It cools the air and freshens everything.

Running in the rain makes you feel alive.

OK, none of those were my thoughts. That was Mrs. Trail Boy talking this morning, as I sat grumpily at the table, watching the rain hit the windows for the umpteenth straight day.

“I think I’ll wait for it to stop,” I said. “Maybe I’ll run at lunchtime.”

“No, go now,” she said. “Something will come up at work. It always does. You won’t get out. You’ll come home all crabby.”

She was right. Something probably would come up. I probably would come home crabby.

And how would I face Master Denny? As far as I knew, he was planning to run trails in the Valley this morning. For all I know, he was getting soaked too. I couldn’t tell him that I was afraid of a little rain.

So I got dressed and headed out and began splashing in puddles.

It really wasn’t raining that hard, at first. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being a morning mist and 10 being a hurricane, it was about a 3 — a light, steady shower.

But I didn’t have much time. I had waited so long that I had only a half-hour to run before I had to get ready for work.

So it was time for my hill loop repeats.

As I’ve noted before, when I need to pack a lot of effort into a little bit of time, almost nothing beats this drill: running a hilly, paved loop in my neighborhood that’s about one-third of a mile around. I run each circuit faster than the previous one, without any rest intervals.

My goal today was to run seven loops. After a four-minute warmup, I got to work and got the job done. Here are my times: 3:21, 3:05, 2:57, 2:53, 2:51, 2:48, 2:45. Then I did a five-minute cooldown.

Mrs. Trail Boy was right. I really didn’t mind the rain. Not even when it got heavier, up to a 5 or 6 on the Trail Boy scale — a hard soaker.

Rain, rain, you’re OK. But take a few days off. You’ve earned it.

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