I am a fan of rain walking. I never minded the water swirling in puddles or gutters. I didn’t mind the occasional splash from a car or truck speeding by. I was rivetted by the rivulets running from hairline to chin drop and the dampness at my t-shirt neckline where the water seeps beneath my jacket.
I remember as a child loving the splash and splatter when jumping two feet first into a puddle, red boots, white sneakers soaked through, the socks squishy around my toes and cold. I can recall doing the run and mud splat face first at the park and coming home covered in the soil of waterlogged baseball diamonds or gritty from roiling in softened sandboxes. I even recall escaping the house once in the middle of a torrent of rain and running hell bent around the tree in our backyard naked and not even shoes, tumbling on the slick grass pursued by my mother who was drenched, dripping, chiding and laughing all at the same time.
There is something freeing about the rain. It washes away so many of our mutual sins and cleanses our filth. It momentarily takes away the drowning heat of a summer day giving a newly smell; freshness even as the heat and sun thickens the air after the fall. It washes leaves from the trees and leaves them flattened on the yard covering grass and roots and sidewalks with a shiny brown and mottled surface with both sheen and texture.
An hour in it can be joyous or dreary. It is not emotionally confined to one sector. Look at a child’s face experiencing their first rain shower or the misery of the rat damp dog taking a crap on a lawn while the weather gods are peeing on him or the misery and cursing of the owner waiting impatiently for the dog to be done with no umbrella – the dog cowering from the curse and crapping at the same time, thinking “next time I’ll just poop in your shoes, you bastard. Jump in a puddle, have some fun, why don’t you.
Rain can bring us together. Have you ever seen a crowd at a bus stop in a rainstorm; huddled close though all strangers in hopes of warding off the wet. Everyone leaning back in unison as the bus pulls in to keep from getting soaked. The look they give one another once seated in the dry sanctuary of the bus, miserable and triumphant simultaneously – as if to say in unison “we weathered that together, didn’t we.” We know they carry just a touch of the camaraderie home with them as they exit individually and slough their way home – the shared deluge.
Rain can drive us apart, marching through jungle mud, losing sight of comrades in the pelt and patter. Dashing out the office door leaving others behind on the fast run to the car, believing the idiotic trueism you get less wet if you run through the rain, as if speed actually diminishes contact. It doesn’t matter, you’re drenched in your car and to hell with everyone else waiting in the doorway for it to let up before they slow walk, you will be well on your way home. You believe it until you hit the wall of traffic made worse by the huge puddle under the overpass causing an immense slow down. You can smell your own wet with the heater turned all the way up, hoping you’ll dry out.
I remember a 20-mile marathon training run down the American River Trail. The world was drizzling most of the morning. As I was nearing the California Fair Grounds about mile 18 the world opened up. I managed to get to the viaduct under highway 80 by the far parking lot and out of the worst of it, pouring is not accurate. Looking out wither end of the tunnel was like looking through a waterfall. I had the choice of remaining until it passed or running to the REI that was near for a dry off and warmth. I literally took the plunge and finished off the run in the torrent. I was cold and soaked, but I was triumphant. No one around to see, but I raised my arms in conquering gesture, water running off my body and sat for an hour waiting for my ride home – stuck in the rain, thwarted by a highway pond, frustrated by the insane traffic. I, thought, I am clean and new and baptized in a way unknown until that day.
Rain, the world is cleared and cleansed and I am a beneficiary. Soaked and Blessed.