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I was running the other day on one of my favorite flat trails, The American Tobacco Trail, for a 10 miler on a clear sky and warm day. It was going to be an in and out run, a run that I have done many times. Around five and a half miles, just about a little bit after the turnaround, it started to rain. But not just a little bit of sprinkle rain. It was a truck load of rain. The kind of rain that it is hard to see in front of you. I picked up the pace a bit, I do not why, since I was still more than four miles away from home and I was going to get drenched anyway. But I think that the rain turned the warm, humid run into a fun cool run. I started to cool down enough that the run turned effortless. I was jumping over puddles, jumping into puddled, it brought me back to childhood and all those days in which I went out to play in the rain. I was sometimes looking up and letting the rain hit my face as I picked up the pace once again. About two miles or so later it stopped and the sky cleared up like nothing happened. Soon I was back in the streets passed the trail, running towards my home.

Even tho I was wet and the running shoes were soaked, I had a happy, big smile on my face.

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