divine intervention

Here comes the sunshine
Here comes the sunshine
Sunshine
The sunshine
Here it comes
— the prophet matthew sweet

We’re sitting in the parking lot at the track. I’m desperately hoping to see raindrops on the windshield. Nothing.

It’s the kind of day you dread in the Valley of the Sun. It’s cold and cloudy and blah. I hate blah. I ask Mo on the way if this would be the kind of day where we skip and go to Einstein’s for a lovely bagel and cup of coffee. Oh, just a couple of miles, she says.

And so here we are. The car in front of us is covered in rain. How is that even possible? Two raindrops on the windshield and I’m justified. “We were going to run, but then it started to rain.” But nothing. And so, we run.

Paula Radcliffe’s stuff is here, but that’s the only sign of life. I start to shuffle, waiting for the taurine to kick in. I keep singing Randy Newman’s “Taurine, Taurine, Taurine. I’ve always been crazy ’bout Irish girls.” Whatever it takes, I suppose.

The weird thing is, I’m pushing harder today, but going slower. The HR is about right, but my pace is slower than the last few runs and I’m running more of the corners. But I guess whatever. Miles is miles.

Paula Radcliffe eventually comes by. She appears to be doing the dirt road loop. Mo keeps a safe distance away from me, still fuming over a disagreement this morning about whether it’s a good idea to drive four hours to another state to take photos of a homeless camp. Volleyball players in a tournament are bouncing a ball around nearby. Just another day at the track.

I keep waiting for the clouds to part and for Mr. Sun to make his triumphant appearance. Isn’t that the way the story goes? “He finished his run under a sunny sky, his heart full despite a bad Randy Newman pun bouncing around in his head.”

The sun never comes. But the rain does. Just as the watch buzzes the 3-mile mark, the rain starts. I see Mo grabbing her jacket and starting toward the car. I knock out the 0.1 for the 5K, hit stop and make a run for it.

My brain switches the Randy Newman soundtrack to “human kindness is overflowing, and I think that it’s going to rain today.” But isn’t that the best kind of run? When you didn’t want to do it, but then the weather holds out till exactly the time you stop?

We drive home with the windshield wipers slapping time. A song in our hearts. A run that happened even though I desperately didn’t want it to.

We’re all counting on his divine intervention. The prophet Sweet is wise indeed.

About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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