Rain

Went for a run on the parkway, mostly because I knew not many people would be there. There were the LARPers by the parking lot, the seniors playing bocce as I warmed up, the skateboarder I triumphantly passed before my knee went to shit, the one or two romantic couples walking closely in their early stages, the one or two not-so-romantic walking far away from each other in their later stages; the Middle Eastern lady and her daughter with their shawls, the one or two dog walkers. A storm was coming.


(Photo by Sheirel Mordaunt)


Huge dark grey clouds, like titans, loomed over the edge of the lake as I passed by the road markers I had flown over when I ran this for the Marines. I knew every bench, and the ones I had sat on with her.

Suddenly it came - all at once - like someone had opened a bay door in the raincloud above. There was no invitational sprinkle, it just dumped. In moments the road was a river that ran through my socks. I felt a rush of adrenaline from whatever song played next in my headphones and from the lightning I could see hit not so far behind me.

Visibility lowered to a few paces in front of me. Scared 20-something girl joggers hid hugging tree trunks. I stared at them as I passed by as if to say, “go- lightning is coming-“ which they heard, trailing behind me as I ran towards the finish. There was nothing more I could do for them.

I crossed the zero-mile mark, watched by the bocce players hiding under an awning, and I began to walk, unflinching as kids that had escaped the playground stared from their parents’ cars, as the water came down like a power hose.

It couldn’t phase me; because after all, I had been through so much worse.