Come on, thunder

There are few things I love more than a walk in the rain.

Yesterday was just perfect: cool, damp, delightful. I'd had my heart set on a walk, but just as I picked up my keys to leave, the rain started. "Crapmuffin!," I thought, and trudged upstairs to use the Gazelle instead. I only lasted about 10 minutes on that apparatus; rain or no rain, I just had to get outside and feel the pavement beneath my feet.

It was barely drizzling, and the air had a delicious smell -- sharp and metallic and tempered by a hint of honeysuckle. I love that feeling when the rain is just light enough that you don't realize a mist has collected on your eyelashes until you blink. Then you brush the trickle from your cheek to find your face bathed in rain. That, plus brushing my hands against the wet leaves as I walk (which could very well seem insane to those who witness the act) somehow makes me feel more connected to the earth.

I do realize that I'm treading perilously close to Hallmark territory here, by the way, but I can't help it.

To sum up, my walk in the rain was good for my mind, body and soul, though not particularly good for my theretofore pristine running shoes.