Puddle Prance

Yesterday was one of those days. You know the ones I’m talking about…where you are cranky and bored and short-tempered so thank goodness you don’t want to be around anyone, where even a shining sun can’t motivate you…those days?

Knew you would.

No one likes those days, least of all when you’ve just had a good week with beautiful weather, so I decided to go for a run in the hope that some physical activity was all I was really craving. I love running, weird I know, but with how much training for dance I had these past 7 months I didn’t want to overdo anything or possibly injure myself, so I hadn’t run since the summer. I went for one about a week ago to a park up in my area and it was great. Dan went this weekend on a run to Port Meadow, that beautiful countryside path to Wolvercote. While I obviously am not in good enough running shape to run the whole thing, walking there with some intermittent sprints sounded like just the ticket. So with that decision made, I packed up my iPod and water, changed into running clothes, and sent off a quick “bye” text to Dan before going out.

I may have also ignored his responding text of “You know it’s going to rain, right?” Oops.

Now I may be weird, but we already knew that, in that I actually really enjoy running in the rain. It’s surprisingly fun and I highly recommend it to anyone who hasn’t tried it. You just have to be cautious of slippery surfaces, but what’s a run without a little risk? (Answer: A safe one). And I figured, it’s England, it never rains that much to be intolerable, particularly after this gorgeous sunshine.

Wrong!

I didn’t realize that by rain, he meant torrential rain accompanying a thunderstorm. But he did. Oh yeah he did. I wasn’t even to Jericho when a drizzle rapidly morphed into literal buckets being dumped on me. I can honestly say that I don’t know if I’ve ever seen that much rain at one time. Thankfully, it was warm rain so I wasn’t going to chill to my bones, but I soon realized that if I wanted to protect my iPod and cell phone from irreparable water damage, I was going to have to sacrifice my shirt to save them (oh c’mon guys I was wearing a sports bra!). I hid under a tree and quickly wrapped them in my shirt before braving the storm and continuing on my path. Figured I might as well since I was going to shower anyway.

Roads here are not the most even of surfaces and I was heading towards a dirt and rocky path; puddles and mud were going to be inevitable. I saw one, a quite wide one too, directly in my path, but I estimated that the puddle was only about an inch deep, totally manageable for my mesh running shoes. I never was skilled at estimating. I didn’t divert my path and ran straight through the puddle.

And immediately sunk mid calf in rainwater.

There was no hope after that. Soaked socks and squishy shoes combined with contact lenses freaking out because they were filling with rainwater, I ended up just standing there in this pond laughing at how much I looked like a drowned rat. A few guys in a van stopped to make sure I was ok/laughing at how stupid I had been not to watch where I was running/compliment me on my beautiful accent. I just shrugged and continued. Why not? After all I was already drenched and dirty and I really wanted to run. So I did end up running to Wolvercote via the deserted Port Meadow path, artfully leaping over and around further puddles. The only person I met on my trip was this Belgium named Roan who also loves running in the rain, so much so that he swam across the Thames spontaneously to get to the other side…because there is another reason to swim across the Thames? Anyways, he was really cool and we shared running-in-the-rain stories until we parted ways at The Trout.

I chose to walk the way back to my place because the sun was out and I had the time. Unfortunately by this point the rain had soaked into the ground and turned puddles into mud, but I had already run through a pond so did any of it really matter anymore? I hated getting back into town though. Apparently the Oxfordians aren’t used to seeing runners in sports bras and shorts especially not on Cornmarket or High Street, so I received a lot of weird looks from people of all ages. No one even would have noticed  in LA.

Back home a few hours later, I felt completely rejuvenated though utterly knackered. It was all completely worth it, even having to wash my shoes in the bathtub because they were caked with mud.

Running in the rain, especially through the stunning Port Meadow, totally my best experience in a thunderstorm 🙂

Port Meadow on a sunny day at twilight

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