Shelter from the Storm

Waking up this morning felt strange. After hours of relentless thunder and heavy rain, the air seemed quieter, yet uncertainty still lingered. I had set my alarm for 5a.m., intending to decide then whether to continue running. But even as it rang, I knew deep down that heading out wouldn’t feel right. Something told me to stay put.

A severe tornado storm had swept through Mississippi, Alabama, and Louisiana overnight, leaving behind destruction, injuries, and even fatalities. Not knowing what conditions awaited me outside made the decision harder, but my gut feeling was clear. After going back and forth in my mind, I finally accepted it: today would be a zero-mile day. I booked another night at the hotel to stay safe.

It's not the most comforting place to be, and stepping outside my room doesn’t exactly feel secure. But that’s part of the reality some people live with every day. For me, this is temporary; for others, this kind of environment is an ongoing struggle. Despite that discomfort, I appreciated the receptionist’s kindness when I extended my stay. Those small gestures can mean so much, especially in unsettling moments.

After two days here, I’m amazed at how quickly I’ve adjusted. It’s incredible how fast we adapt when circumstances require it. Later in the morning, I walked 1.5 miles along the highway to the nearest supermarket to pick up supplies. By then, the sun had broken through, and the air was thick with heat and humidity. The area around the hotel tells its own story—many buildings bear scars from past tornadoes, a stark reminder of how unpredictable and unforgiving these storms can be.

I bought yogurt, salad, couscous, cereal, cereal bars, apples, and water before heading back. It wasn’t much of an outing, but enough to leave me feeling both overwhelmed and humbled. Experiencing something so unfamiliar—a powerful storm and its aftermath—reminded me how small we can feel in the face of forces beyond our control.

The rest of the day was spent quietly indoors, catching up on tasks I'd been putting off. Now evening has arrived, and I’m grateful for the chance to rest before continuing my run tomorrow. The uncertainty of the weather still weighs on my mind, but I know I made the right choice today by listening to my instincts.

I may not fully understand these storms or their dangers, but trusting myself to pause felt like an important lesson in itself.

Thank you for being with me. Let’s continue tomorrow.