Rain, Resilience, and the Road Ahead

I woke up this morning in my 'tuna can' feeling cold and honestly not overly eager to run. In some ways I was up for it, but in others... not so much. I kept listening for the sound of rain, wondering if I’d have to pack my things outside, soaking wet before I even started. You know those mornings where your mind makes everything seem worse than it probably is? Yep, one of those.

Since my 'tuna can' had no bathroom, I had to step outside anyway—and to my surprise, no rain! Already a plus. I grabbed a cold coffee, packed some extra shirts (options always help ease my mind), and started preparing my buggy. A light drizzle started falling, but nothing major. So I closed my tuna can door and set off into the misty morning, determined to make the most of it.

Staying on Highway 19 for nearly 30 miles, I relaxed my mind and made a plan: run straight through (except for pee stops) until I reached a service station around mile 16. Just run, think, and remind myself of the gift it is to run the world. Sure, some days are harder than others, but that's what makes this whole adventure meaningful.

By mile 4, the drizzle had settled in, just enough to keep me damp but not soaked. At mile 9, the real rain started — steady and hard. My socks, shoes, and everything else were soon drenched. Rain dripped off my hat’s brim and kept me in a constant state of wetness. But surprisingly, it wasn’t cold or windy, so not nearly as bad as I had imagined in my morning fog of worry.

The wet swamp lands on either side of the road looked beautiful in the rain, water weaving intricate patterns. Of course, my mind decided to entertain itself by imagining alligators slithering onto the road—just to spice things up!

At mile 16.5, I spotted the gas station on the other side of the road. Should I stop and change into a dry shirt or just keep running through? I chose to stop, figuring one reset would help me push through the final stretch. Inside, Toni, the store clerk, seemed surprised to see me dripping wet. After I explained my journey, he seemed genuinely interested and supportive. That brief conversation lifted my spirits.

With my shirt changed and my room for the night already booked, I headed out again. For a while, I stayed dry, but the rain soon returned. This time, I put on my rain jacket and settled into a comfortable rhythm, embracing the cool, refreshing rain. Perspective makes all the difference—and honestly, these moments are teaching me so much. Running isn't always easy, but even on tough days, I love it. The difficulty, the discomfort, the mental struggle—it's all part of the adventure.

Just before reaching my hotel, I stopped at a food market and then checked in. Unfortunately, I quickly realized my room wasn’t exactly worth the money. I’d planned to be productive, but the Wi-Fi was frustratingly weak. I debated heading to a fast-food place to work, which isn’t quite my vibe, but sometimes you just have to adapt.

For now, I’m sitting in a spot with just enough signal to get some work done. If things don’t upload, tomorrow is another day. I’ve got couscous in my room, which will do for dinner, and Tracy Chapman just started playing—I'll take that as a positive sign.

Be there or be square tomorrow. Take care!