Running in the Rain
Storms, Movement, and Catharsis
The other day, I ran during a thunderstorm. This happens from time to time, but this time the thunderstorm sparked some reflections, which became this essay.
I’ve run during storms on so many occasions that you’d think they would have lost all ability to cause trepidation in me – and yet they still do. As I prepare to leave, I can feel that tiny reluctance in me, that ominous feeling that comes on days where the sky is so dark that midmorning feels like late evening. There is the desire not to run, and separately but relatedly, the desire not to get wet.
On days like this, you have to lean into such feelings. Embrace them, don’t hide or shirk. And then step out quickly into the downpour without flinching and with your head up. Lean into the discomfort and you’ll find – unless it’s particularly cold – that all discomfort disappears quite quickly.1
During summer storms, even if the rain pelts hard (as it did for good portions of yesterday’s run), it feels like a shower. Cleansing. Suddenly it makes sense why storms in novels always come when the characters need to be cleansed and renewed.