Forcast

My dear friend Susan is encouraging me to join her on a half marathon in May. Things you should know about me, I am not a runner. I am not a jogger. I am barely a walker. But I like the idea of running. I think maybe this could be good for me. At least I feel glad to go for the walk because my dog needs the exercise anyway.

Then I remembered that I live in the Seattle weather zone. By that I mean, we share the exact same climate as Seattle. Famous for its rain, we get it too. Just not the fame. Nor the traffic. But I think I'm veering off course. I'm trying to stay true to my training schedule so this half marathon thing isn't as daunting a goal.

I wasn't totally unprepared.  Despite it being rainy and awful, I put on my running shoes and an allegedly waterproof coat. I even put a coat on the dog. (A note about clothes on the dog:  Holly barely tolerates wearing her collar. She is joyous when we take it off at night. So when I do put a harness on her, she's already sad. But when I reach for her coat she is positively stricken. She'll stand there, stock still, with her ears pinned so far back that they touch in the back of her head and her eyes look at me pleading. They seem to say, "What did I ever do to you? Why do you torment me so?" But it was raining pigs and cows today, so despite her protests, she wore the coat and was much drier for it.)

I had to pull Holly out of the car when we reached our destination. She knew better than me that this was no weather for walking. But out into it we went and she endured. I tried to do that thing that Susan told me to do, walk for 2 minutes then jog for 10 - 30 seconds, rinse, repeat. But Holly stopped me as soon as we got to the grass, quickly did her business and then looked at me with those pleading eyes again. "Did my thing. Let's go home. Can't you see that it is wet out here?"

But against my dog's better judgement, I started out with my walk/jog training regimen. 7 minutes into it, my feet soaked, my pants soaked, my allegedly waterproof jacket turning out to be a passable sponge, my fingers freezing and my job approval ratings from my dog reaching an all time low, I turned around and headed back.

Later that day I managed to go for a more leisurely walk with another friend. At least I got out. But this time I wore waterproof boots, woolen socks, ski pants, ski gloves, a touk, a properly waterproof coat, poly-pro long johns, and carried an umbrella.

I was still cold.

Days like this have me questioning the life choices I've made that led me to live here instead of where I was born:  Hawaii.

I heard a conversation on the radio today that while meant to be funny, kind of turned a knife in my gut. Some woman called in and asked, "Any idea what the weather will be like tomorrow?" The DJ said, "Well, considering that tomorrow will be a day between September and May in Seattle, I'm going to take a stab at it and say that it's going to be rainy."

I know, I moved here with eyes wide open. Who knew I was such an idiot when I was in my twenties?