After an angry, emotional run and a rest day, I was ready to start afresh. No better day for it. Slow, beautiful, cool, steady rain.

Savannah summers do not see a lot of these days. It is either overwhelmingly hot or violently stormy (or both). I took the opportunity.

During my warm up, I started to feel that small creeping fear.

Should I be running today? What if I get injured? Can I recover AGAIN and make it to the marathon?

Then I passed a womanΒ whose name I do not know, but I doΒ know that she lives nearby, she runs fast, and she runs long. She is also older than me.

If I had seen her yesterday in my angry state — I would have been that much more angry. But not today.

She gave me aΒ giant smile. I don’t think she had seen another runner all day.

I asked her how many miles she had completed.

“Twelve, today.”

I came out of my microscopic view.

It’s okay if I get injured and I’m out forΒ two months.

It’s okay if I miss my marathon goal time, or even miss the entire race.

Running is a life sport.

And more thanΒ I want to run aΒ 4.5 hour marathon… 20-30 years from now, I want to run 12 miles on a Monday in the rain.

I continued my run without GPS tracking, without pace timers, and without all the pressure I’ve put on myself to do great things, fast things, all the things.

I just ran in the rain.

Because I like running.

Soaking wet.

Soaking wet.

Pro tip: Before you go run in the rain, leave a towel by the door. …lesson learned.