I’m not a fan of platitudes, but they do have this annoying way of capturing the truth in a tight, albeit smug little, package. A week or two ago, I don’t remember where I was. It was the internet. Definitely there. And some nice lady was saying (this was in print, not video), “If you can’t find joy in the rain, you’ll have half as much joy and still have all the same rain.”
See what she did there? It was true and cute, too.
And it bothered me. My brain wanted to reject it, but it kept echoing around in there. I think it found its way in via the small crack in my psyche where the rain gets in, that wet, uncomfortable place that somehow convinces me to stay in when it’s raining. If a platitude is a blunt tool, then it stands to reason that it is best plied on the soft parts of your mind.
And then it rained. Of course it did. Because it rains. Sometimes.
And I heard that woman in my mind, smugly chiding me to go out, and just because she was right, didn’t mean I was going, except I was. I did.
The rain is hard, because the temptation is to wear something that helps you stay dry, but then you’re a sweaty mess. Apparel that portends to be breathable is never breathable enough for me. So I can choose whether to be rain wet or sweat soaked. I choose the rain.
What I’ve learned, actually, is that you’re better off getting as wet as you can as soon as you can. It’s freeing. The sooner you’re wet, the sooner you can stop thinking about being wet.
I’ve enjoyed getting wet this week. Really, I have.
Do you run in the rain?