Flashbacks and My Dad

Of all days of the week, the day I most hate to miss a run is Wednesday. The reason is situational: currently, on Thursdays, I'm working in a school from 7:30am - 3:00pm, then have class from 4:00-7:00pm. If I don't run on Wednesday, I have to go 2 days in a row without a run-- which I prefer not to do because of the training.

Yesterday, the weather Gods decided to try to stop me.

The day was ugly from start to finish, and though there were pockets of time without rain, none lasted. I decided to try to venture into the "drizzle" at 5:00pm. From 5:07-6:00pm, it rained the hardest it did all day. Sheets. The kind of rain your mother would say, don't go out or you'll get sick. I wore shorts, a T-shirt, a sweatshirt. I brought Bobo. We went swimming.

Bobo and I went all Lieutenant Dan on the run-- and it reminded me of my 12th birthday party. Laroux (my Dad) took me and a car full of my pock-faced, middle school friends to Six Flags Great Adventure. We got there, and sure enough, it starts raining so hard that they close down the Scream Machine. This is pre-Batman ride, so that meant there weren't that many crazy rides still open-- but we had the park to ourselves. No lines. Just us in our t-shirts and shorts-- form fitting in their wetness, pasted to our prune-skins.

Running yesterday gave me that first person flashback. I remembered being 12. I remembered the "thunder" ride. I remembered thinking I had the BEST DAD EVER for not turning the car around.

Thanks, Laroux.