There is nothing that sharpens the mind like a deadline.
And there is nothing that sharpens the leg muscles like lightning and rain.
Today, after returning home from work, I put on my jogging shoes and got out under heavy gray skies. I knew rain might be coming but I thought I could complete my 5K without getting caught. A runner gotta be an optimist, especially if he is over 50 :-)
Then about 2K into my run -- it started. Not a sky-cracking thunderstorm but a drizzle. Started light. Blessed rain on an August evening. It was about 90F out there. So the first drops were like a prayer accepted.
The fragrance of hot-wet earth blended with crushed mowed grass. I inhaled the olfactory cocktail with gratitude.
But then it started to pick up the tempo. Soon it was a rascal of a little downpour and I didn't want to get my new New Balances soggy. So I picked up the pace from a lazy 14"-mile jogging gait to perhaps a 9"-mile attack. To me, that's FAST.
With every step, watched the rain drops paint the hot pavement in thousands of gray brush strokes.
When I finally made it to my front door, chest heaving like bellows and leg tendons on fire, it was coming down like a curtain.
Then, as suddenly it started, it stopped, and left me standing at my front door like someone at the receiving end of a practical joke.
Another day. Another (perhaps) 3K. This time, wet. No problem. Tomorrow, if I'm lucky enough, I can perhaps do it all over again.
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