I lived for seven years in a place where it rained nearly every day, 110 inches a year. Like anything else, I got used to it, forgetting somehow that there was anything but rain. When I first moved there, I used to go out for a run swathed in rain gear, but by the last year I was running in just a T and shorts. When I camped out, I was an expert at tarp setting and dry suit wearing. The darkness and cloudy days affected me more than I knew, and I was glad, in the end, to escape.
I've lost the desire to march in downpours for hours on end, and camping in it? No. Don't wanna. But since the deluge has not let up, I've had to embrace the brutality. And it's not all that bad. (Just please go away soon. Like by this weekend. Because I have a backpacking trip planned).
But nobody likes a Whiny McWhinerson, so some good things about the weather on my cross country travels the past few weeks...
When I left Sitka, a few fellow escapees and I told ourselves we wouldn't become soft. We wouldn't carry umbrellas. We would always stand in the rain in cotton sweatshirts talking instead of screaming and running inside! We would never have hairstyles that we had to blow dry! We would do our long runs even in horizontal rain and we would always go camping!
|Nobody wants to brave the muddy North Country Trail!|
|Waterfalls are huge!|
|and even bigger the more it rains...|
|A four mile slog, gaining 4000 feet in elevation with no views....well...|
|At least I have Girl Scout cookies!|
Well, I still do most of those things. But it took seven years of rain to really appreciate the sun. I will never take it for granted again.