I Love a Rainy Day

If you know me well enough, you know I'm a runner. Yes, I'm fat, but not as fat as I would be if I didn't run. Because I run, I try to control what I eat so that the benefits of running won't go to waste. I'm struggling mightily at the moment to train for the News and Sentinel Half Marathon, the highlight of the running calendar in these parts. My long runs are usually Saturday mornings. But I'm not one of those bada** runners who are out on the road no matter the weather. To those who say I should be, I have four words: fat people chafe easily. So this morning, I'm snuggled up in my office, enjoying the cool, damp air wafting through a window I can't believe I get to have open in the middle of July. I'm reading, writing, puttering around, and waiting for the weather to break.

I love rainy days in summer. I especially love rainy Saturdays. Because my job-I-do-so-I-can-afford-to-be-a-writer is Monday through Friday, Saturday is my day to get work done around the house, like mowing, repairing, weeding, etc. In other words, stuff I really don't prefer doing but do as my part in the social contract. I live in a decent neighborhood and if I expect my neighbors' houses not to look like trash, then I have to allow them to expect the same from me.

But when it rains, I see myself as exempt from all that outside work. I don't want to chafe and ruin my running shoes, so I can't go running until it stops. It's just too soggy to mow or get in the garden, so I can't do that. So what does that leave me? What I really wanted to do anyway.

So here I am, listening to many sounds that nourish my soul: the patter of rain dripping off my roof, birds singing quietly as they shelter from in the trees, soft contemplative music, the clacking of my keyboard, and the occasional sizzle of a car as it drives through the wet street outside my open window. From my seat, I can see Van Gogh's Starry Night (not the real thing, of course, though I have had the privilege of seeing that, but that's another post for another day). On the table beside me are my trusty water bottle and Khaled Hosseini's And The Mountains Echoed for when my fingers grow tired. So, to sum it all up, I'm deeply thankful for this gift from God of a cool, rainy Saturday.