Unbearable Wetness of Being 4/22/10

Mother Earth celebrated Earth Day in Kansas City by pouring rain on us all day. She did not allow a respite for my twelve-mile run, in spite of my pleas.

I enjoy running in a light rain- for a little while. This was one hundred minutes of sloshing through moderately heavy precipitation. In fact, I was already soaked before my Garmin acquired its satellites. I guess you could say it was somewhat fortunate that the temperatures were in the 50s, and not the 30s, and you would be right: the cold would certainly have made things more miserable. But, hey, look at the freakin' calendar: April 22nd, not February 22nd! But, the bitchy blogger doth protest too much, methinks. Onward.

I had a romantic notion that for today's hydroplaning, I would wear some old Nikes in the University of Oregon colorway: grass-green, with golden yellow. I had retired them a couple of years ago due to failing performance, but since the missus and I are heading out to The Beaver State next week, and we're going to be doing races in Eugene that weekend, I wanted to see if the Duck shoes had enough bounce to do a half-marathon. And if they did, I would leave them at Pre's Rock afterwards.

Well, they weren't so ducky today. I wouldn't say the discomfort was excruciating, but it was enough to tell me that if I ran the half in them one week hence, I would be spending the majority of our Oregon vacation waddling around like a lame duck. Thus did patella tendinitis trump romance.

Upon finishing today, I set about the task of removing my saturated clothing, and wringing it out. Let me just say that I am an ardent believer in wearing wicking clothing. But even those wonderful synthetics get overwhelmed when exposed to the kind of wetness I was dealing with today. Not only were my clothes and my skin completely soaked, my pores, which are supposed to block incoming substances, failed during the downpour. They went completely open, allowing the deluge to pour in to my gutty-wutts. My spleen was swimming. My liver was liquefied. My islands of Langerhans were turned into actual islands.

Feeling waterlogged, I wrung myself out by setting the washing machine on the spin cycle and jumping in. Upon completion, my wife pulled me out, and even though I was a bit shaken up, I was not agitated with her.

I learned a couple of things today. First, even though I'm an aqueous creature, but that doesn't mean I would enjoy living in a watery world full time. Evolution has made me a lover of the terra firma, so "Viva La Asfalta!" And, second, like The Who, retired shoes should stay that way, even if they died before they got old.

I won't get fooled again.

Thanks for reading.