I heard the rain pouring down the spouts this morning just before dawn, and I groaned as my brain attempted to highjack my 20-miler today.

Maybe I could take tomorrow off and do it then? What about the treadmill at the gym? I already did one 20-miler. Is it critical to do two? Maybe the rain will stop later…

And I told all of my thoughts to pull themselves together, because we were going to get up and do a rain run. No arguments.

Hat – check. Fluorescent windbreaker tied around my waste just in case – check. Nutrition… water… check check. Let’s go.

Before anyone had a chance to protest, I was out the door and ticking off the miles. The light rain became heavier in mile 3, and the rest was a drenching, puddle jumping challenge.

This one hurt by the end – truly. It felt like the full deal, which I pretended it was. I almost took some walking breaks, but I buckled down and completed this one straight through – just 1 second per mile slower than my last 20.

And now… football and chili. And fuzzy socks.

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