It was raining on Friday in Los Angeles. Unusual, wet, meaningful rain. Cleansing rain. Cool rain. Rain that makes all the colours saturated. Yummy rain. Rain that beckoned me to run in it. So, decked out in plastic clothes specially crafted (in China?) just for running, I ventured out.
It rarely rains in LA. I thought of the recent fires. I thought of home. I thought of my father. Once we’d seen a runner running while it was snowing, through slushy streets, and my father had commented, “Now that’s dedication.” While it was only rain, and it was a cool 59’F in the balmy California fall, I was still running in the rain. And I wondered if he’ll be proud of me, and say, “Now that’s dedication.”
I got slapped in the face several times by low-hanging, sopping-wet branches. Water ran down my neck and sloshed into my aerated shoes. And it was one of my best runs yet. Strong stride, good turnover, little bounce. And not too hot!
Club Fritch 
Daddy would say “That’s dedication.”
And I am very proud of you.
(Of course, Momma would say, “Now that’s just plain silly. Stay dry. Run inside”)
I have to say in my defense, that today Dad saw someone running, admittedly with shorts on, in slushy snow and misty drizzle, and said, “Now that’s crazy!” I think he was talking about the shorts, though. But still!!