Wet, Wet, Soaking Wet. Feeling Like the Wicked Witch of the West

Ok. I didn't melt. But I did cry a bit as I ran back on Eastern Parkway.

And I had been really excited for this run, too.

The train was rolling back down to NYC on Friday, so I only had time for a 2 1/2 mile walk. After sampling too many of the culinary delights on the train, followed by some very rich Mexican food, I was ready for some sweat and tears.

Just not this many.

Saturday. Group run day. Week #3 in a row of being able to go to the group run. With my new schedule, this is somewhat of a record. So I was psyched.
Heard the rain tat-tat-tatting like the change in the cup of the blind man who works the subway.
"It'll go away." Ever the optimist after a good night's sleep and not enough exercise, am I!

And it did, a bit. In running up to GAP with my water bottles and my old sneakers, there was only a light mist.
"It'll be clearing up soon!" I enthused.
The only right idea I had that day was to wear my old sneakers, as it turned out.
Because my feet got waterlogged, big time.
With only a few people showing up, Tour Guide took one of the new girls out to Manhattan. That left me with the Photographer, his friend and the Boston lawyer - very nice but too fast for me.
So I stuck with Ocean Avenue. Her knee had been acting up and she wanted to take it easy.
Apparently, I'm down to 8:45 + miles now. Sigh.
So off to Owl's Head we went.
And it started pouring.
Positive: there was little need for pedestrian dodging down the usually-packed 5th avenue leg of the run.
Negative: the few pedestrians we saw were blind to the world with their sharp and pointy umbrellas threatening to poke us in the eye as they walked blightly unaware of anyone else near them, hugging the death parachutes near their bodies and safely over all of their visual frame. Bah.
Positive: my arms are getting good at carrying the water bottles. And the faucets still weren't turned on, so we got some water when we crested the hill in the park.
Negative: on the way back, the rain started sheeting. And it was windy. Against us or cross-wise to us.
And don't forget the puddles, those tricky puddles. I don't know what the equivalent of black ice for puddles is, but these were that. You couldn't see them until you were right on them, your foot already arcing down inexorably into the middle of an ankle-high pool of sewer and street run-off.
Yum.
Tour Guide said today, when I ran into him, that he thinks that every mile done with your feet waterlogged ought to count for 1.5 miles. If that's true, then I really did 18 miles on Saturday.
I left Ocean Avenue at the park and 15th street and headed back down. I was supposed to meet Suave at Grand Army.
Called him when I got there.
"Oh, I'm in the middle of something. And it's raining. Why don't I just meet you at the house?"
Spending that little time on the phone was enough to get me cold again. My clothes weighed about 4 pounds more than when I started, due to the rainwater I collected along the way.
And my shirt and jacket were clinging prettily to my (ahem) currently less-than-6-pack-abs stomach.
But taking the subway would have meant getting even colder before having to get back out in the rain.
So off I went, down Eastern Parkway.
Cue the superwind that lives on Eastern Parkway. And the sheets of rain.
Including those that fell from my eyes. I tried to wipe them away but my hands wouldn't open and close: they were too cold and tingly/numb.

Booh. Though it's better than not going at all, I suppose.
And my hands turned a really interesting shade of plum in the shower.