Great balls of fire

There’s nothing like a few lightning bolts and thunderclaps to make a runner turn up the speed.

I went out for a lunchtime run today. It was raining. So what else is new? It’s rained all spring. And according to the weather people, it’s going to rain and rain and never stop, for 40 days and 40 nights, or something like that.

So there was no use trying to outwait it.

I drove to the canal towpath for a 5 1/2-mile run. About halfway into the run, I started to hear thunder — a deep, faint roll, from far away. Then it got louder. And I saw lightning. Whoa! It definitely was time to turn up the juice!

I shifted into third gear, and then into fourth, while the sky got darker and the rain fell heavier. The thunder kept a-comin’. Rumble. Rumble. Ka-boom!

I stopped jumping around and over puddles and trenches, and just started plowing through them, kicking up water in all directions.

My mind began to taunt me: “Hey, Trail Boy, what’s the worst place to be in a lightning storm? I’ll bet that running alongside a canal, filled to the brim with water, with thousands of trees all around me, is pretty high on the list. Ha ha!”

OK, time to quit fooling around. I pushed the speed, and wrapped up the run in about 40 minutes.

As soon as I reached my car, the lighting gave me one last kick in the butt, with a flash across the sky. The thunder was right behind. Ka-BOOOM!!

Hey, let’s not do that again, soon. Even if I have to wait another 40 days before I run again.


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