Is there hope?

It’s lashing outside but I’m warm and dry. It’s raining big, fat, wet drops against the kitchen window, writes The Extra Miler.

From where I’m sitting, with a cup of coffee in hand, I can see my running gear in a bag and I’m wondering how on earth I could possibly get it out of the bag and onto me.

The kids are messing about in the kitchen and they want to know why Daddy is going out in the rain. I’m asking the same question. I could always do this tomorrow and it wouldn’t make that much difference. Would it? I won’t get finished before the match anyway.

What’s the forecast for tomorrow? We all know I won’t make the Olympic team at this stage anyway.

Ah feck it! Where’s the rainproof jacket? I’ll be grand once I get out there. I will. I hope I will anyway.

When I open the door it’s bloody freezing. Cold as well as wet – perfect. Shut-up, shut-up, shut-up – get out the door.

The first few strides are a bit of a shock to the system. I’m stiff and slow at the start. The first heavy drops of rain sink straight through the ‘rainproof’ jacket and meet shivering pink shoulders.

I splash away from my comfortable kitchen wondering whether I’m the only lunatic in the country that inflicts this sort of behaviour on themselves, and whether it’s possible to get trench foot from running through puddles.

Once I’m out of the house – almost despite myself – things start to improve a little. The legs begin to loosen, my head settles a bit and I relax into the run. I’m wet but I really can’t get a lot wetter. What harm can it do anyway? Hopefully, I won’t dissolve.

I’m away from the house now and going properly. I’m thinking about everything and anything, but mostly nothing. A car clips by and dumps a big dirty puddle all over my legs. I smile. Sure who cares at this stage? I have my shields up and I glide on.

A glance at the watch tells me I’m half done and I turn for home. I have to take the hat off and I’m amazed at how warm it is. The rain is soft and cool on my face and it makes me feel clean. There might be hope for me yet. If I got out today – in this muck – maybe I’m not a complete wimp. The last mile after the shops is beautiful. I’m acting like a kid and I looking for water to run through – the deeper the better.

I was grand once I got out.

Become a fan of the Run Direct Facebook Page – Run Direct Magazine, Ireland http://tinyurl.com/y8o4u7s – keep yourself up to speed on all running news in Ireland

Follow us on Twitter: RunDirectMag