Walking In the Rain

Confession: about two or so months ago (let's see, that would be around Christmastime, yes? Okay, then that's my excuse), the walking habit that I had been so proud of started dwindling into... well, into a non-existent walking habit.

While normally this is something to regret, it's even a little worse in my case; see, "Little Brother" (as the child I'm carrying is typically referred to by his doting big sister) kinda did a number on mommy in the first trimester. I was plagued by a constant mild aversion to all food (nothing ever sounded good), accompanied by a terrible, ravenous need to eat constantly. For a good three months, a little monster in my tummy demanded nourishment.  Though that desperate need for food died down in trimester number two, I'm pretty sure the constant need for nice, big sandwiches at 9:30 PM over and over again had already done it's damage.

That said, in the past week or so, I've decided to jump back into walking again. And oh, I've needed it. Even setting health aside, I feel better when I have those minutes of solitude in the quiet, usually chilly mornings.

This morning, I was determined to get out. The only problem? The forecast. It was a wet, wet morning. My first attempt to get out ended with me turning the car around when hail started pounding the windshield and lightning flashed in the distance.

I love the gray and green of rainy days.

I waited a few hours, and when the bright green and orange on the weather map had mostly passed our little home by, I took advantage of a lull in the rain. I promise, it was barely drizzling as I parked in my surrogate neighborhood and began my walk. Two minutes later, the weather changed its mind.

A light drizzle started, and it gently grew into a steady rain. I wasn't going to turn around for that, though. At around 65 degrees, I was perfectly comfortable, except for the tiny drops the wind whipped into my face. I did wish I'd grabbed my hat before I left. But I kept walking.

More things to love about the rain--the steady pattering of the raindrops, and the glistening concrete or asphalt.

Though I felt fine sticking to my plan to walk, I felt more than a little awkward when I pictured how I must look. That seems to be a common position for me--I'm usually able to make a good, confident decision about the things I choose to do, but, though I rarely compromise that decision, I am often consumed with concern over how others view it, with a need to justify or defend what I do.

In any case, this was what I pictured: A sorry-looking girl with soaking hair and shirt, probably obviously pregnant by this point, walking down a lonely street in the pouring rain. Kind of pathetic. Every time a car passed, I gave myself instructions:

Okay, walk like it's on purpose, head up, ignore the water in your eyes, okay, once they get close enough, a little closer, okay, flash that small but friendly neighborhood smile! Hi! I'm your crazy pregnant pseudo-neighbor who is out for a leisurely walk in the pouring rain! On purpose!

I love the green of this moss, especially in the rain.

Luckily I had a good twenty-five minutes to get over myself. I'm glad I did. Soon I was able to (mostly) forget about how I looked, and really pay attention to the day. How often am I able to do that? To stop and listen and watch the world around me at a pace no faster than a walk? How often do I get to do that in the rain? To feel the rain in my hair, rolling down my cheeks, collecting on my eyelashes? To taste the water on my lips that is fresher than tap water and sweeter than tears?

I felt like I was sixteen years old again and acutely aware of all there was to experience. I felt again that I wanted to walk in the pouring rain--not just to accomplish a goal, and not just to get back to my car as quickly as possible, but to know what it was like.

While I walked, I watched the large and small rivers of rain cutting across the rise and fall of the road. I watched the leaves and branches bending under the heavy drops and the squirrels darting across the wet grass. I learned how drops of water feel different when they're falling from power lines overhead than when they're small and light and whipped by wind.

Watching the rain fall from a dry porch with Cambrie wouldn't have taught me that. Running from the house to the car and then from my car to another building on another errand wouldn't have taught me that.

When I finally got back to my car, I wished I'd had the forethought to bring a towel. But again, I didn't really mind. Not the rain dripping from my hair down my back, and not my wet fingers slipping the key into the ignition. It's been a while since I've experienced something small and simple in such a tactile way. No words. No music. No peer influence.

Cambrie (in her current favorite hat) watching the rain.

Just walking in the rain.