Rain, Resilience, and the Warmth of Arrival

I got up at 5am, packed my things, and brought everything upstairs into the garage so we could load the car before 6am and head back to Hutchinson. But before we hit the road, Kathy prepared an absolutely delicious breakfast—French toast with homemade syrup, scrambled eggs, and fruit salad. Honestly, I probably ate too much… but hey, I figure I need to store some joy and calories for the harder days ahead. I really enjoyed the calm of that breakfast moment, sitting around the table, sharing stories, before the journey called again.

It was still pitch dark outside when we loaded the van. As we reached my drop-off point in downtown Hutchinson, rain was already pouring down. Thankfully, Don and Kathy unloaded me and my gear under a sheltered roof structure so I could at least start out dry. We said our goodbyes, and off they went. I stood under that little haven, organizing everything as best as I could—knowing full well that the day ahead would be cold and wet, and that mid-run adjustments wouldn’t be easy.

Then I left the dryness behind and stepped out into the storm.

The rain was steady, the puddles already deep. I had about 3 miles to run out of town before merging onto Highway 14 north. At first, the rain eased and Easter morning felt beautifully still—no traffic, just soft daylight, and me moving. The temperature was cool but bearable… for a while.

Then came the wind. Then came the heavier rain.

Around mile 10, I had to stop. Cold to the core, I crouched behind a bridge post to pee, hands trembling, body soaked, every movement a challenge. Still, I kept telling myself to hold the mindset steady. "This is temporary. You're okay." But my gloves didn’t help much anymore, my feet hurt from the cold, and something felt off—I was moving so much slower than usual, and I couldn’t understand why. Were my legs that stiff from the cold? Was I pushing too hard or not enough?

I didn’t fight it. I adjusted. I kept going.

Another 10 miles later, I had to stop again. Same reason, same cold. Only colder. But I talked myself through it again: “Just 10 more miles, Andrea. Then hotel. Then warmth. Then shower.”

At some point a sheriff pulled up beside me and asked if I was okay. I told him I had to keep moving or I’d freeze. He smiled and wished me safe travels. That little moment lifted me.

After nearly 6 hours, I finally reached Lyons. I had tunnel vision for miles, just wanting to see that hotel sign. When I finally stepped inside, I was drenched—literally dripping water from every corner of my clothes and gear. I could barely use my fingers. I checked in over the phone, then stumbled into my room, turned the heater to full blast, and stood under a hot shower for 15 glorious minutes.

Sitting there afterward in dry clothes, warm again, sipping hot coffee—it felt like heaven.

Of course, the wifi wouldn’t reach the couch in my room (classic), so I rearranged the furniture and set up a little office by the door. I'm now working from there, cozy and content, with a smile on my face.

Today was hard. Cold. Wet. Mentally tough. But it also reminded me how deep resilience runs when you keep your head and heart aligned.

Thanks for checking in. I'm warm now. I'm safe. And I’m looking forward to a warmer, brighter run tomorrow.