Karma is a Bitch

I think a few of you may be with me on this one, so be warned...Mary, I'm talking to you.

I decided to run my long run (11miles) this morning in the rain. I did this not out of some sort of heightened desire to punish myself...I think training for the Ironman will be sufficient on that account. I did this because in Dover, DE in 2009, it is either raining or snowing. The rain was my window of good weather. Nevertheless, I was spurned on by the fact that a Runner's World article this month told me that I would feel 50 percent more hard-core if I ran in the rain than I would running that same course in the sunshine. I will get back to that later.

The 50-degree temperatures combined with the rain helped to melt some of the mountainous plow piles of snow overnight, thus opening up more road for me so that I could run without getting in the way of the drivers for whom that road is intended. I know my place. Typically, I run on the sidewalk when it is available, but it was part of the not-melted path this morning. On the up side, there was not a lot of traffic, and I was able to stay out of the white stuff (which has now become brownish-gray stuff) for the most part. There were a few large puddles, which is to be expected, and it was raining steadily, so keeping my feet or any other part of me dry was a lost cause from the beginning.

People have done a lot of stupid things to me while running over the years. There was the old, possibly homeless man in Saint Louis who used to spit at me while I ran down Lindell, near the Schnuck's. There have been too many people to count who honk or wave or yell something relatively profane. I will never understand the purpose of this as I have almost never asked any of them to stop their vehicles so I can comply with their requests. Nevertheless, this morning, the harassing behavior was taken to a new level. A large pickup truck (dark blue Chevy...The Heartbeat of America, if I'm not mistaken), swerved out of his perfectly good and open lane into a large, cold, dirty puddle in the adjacent lane just in time to wash a large amount of water over me a la Bridget Jones in one of those movies...except that I was not wearing a dress. Like I said, I was already wet, so I was not bothered by the water. I wasn't really bothered at all because I have no right to be bothered.

I have seen this happen to other unsuspecting people, and I have laughed. I have laughed a good, hearty laugh, and I have not thought twice about it because it is funny. I have never done that to anybody, nor would I...just want to make that clear. I have laughed in the same way that I have laughed when I have witnessed a person fall in the middle of an open area with nothing over which to trip because that is funny too. I have also fallen in that manner (Molly, I think you were there in Parkland that day...also, thanks for following! I like that I can give shout-outs to my followers!), and I know that people have laughed good, healthy laughs at me. Today, the wet chickens came home to roost, and all I can hope is that the Chevy driver and his passengers got a seriously good laugh at my expense and that a few other witnesses' days were brightened as well.

Happy Boxing Day to all and to all a happy Kwanzaa!