The other day I saw one of those silly ecards on Facebook that was exactly perfect.  It read, “I don’t go crazy.  I am crazy.  I just go normal from time to time. Get it right.”  That pretty much describes every runner I know.  Otherwise, why would I have gladly gone out into a downpour this morning and run 17 miles?  I started at 9:34am. By 9:37, my braids were soaked, my shoes were squishy and there were streams of water pouring off both sides of my navy blue FLEET FEET hat.  By the time I finished I was reminiscent of the scene in the movie League of Their Own where the announcer says, “And then there’s Marla Hooch.  What a hitter.”  It wasn’t my most gloriously attractive moment, to say the least, but I got it done.

So, picture this: Linds J running 3 loops around Creve Coeur Lake in the driving rain.  Every once in a while I would tip my head toward the sky to let the rain fall on my face, I could feel myself smile, and I would close my eyes.  Lindsey quirk #5: Sometimes I try to run as long as I can with my eyes closed.  I find it a good form of release, and I especially like doing this on a long straight downhill.  I’m sure eventually I’m going to bite it.  Probably really hard.  But until the day comes when I go careening down the side of a hill, rolling through trees and brush, resulting in stitches and/or broken bones, I will likely continue this practice.  Anyway, I was out there to put in the miles all by my lonesome today, but weirdly, I was not the only one.  There were several other runners on the path and as we would pass each other, we exchanged that slight smile and knowing glance that says, “So you’re crazy too.”

And here’s the other thing, while I was out there getting after it, I had about 25 friends that were doing something even more ridiculous.  13 miles of trails in the rain at Cuivre River State Park for the race Quivering Quads.  From what I hear, it was a total muddy mess.  And I think that sounds absolutely, spectacularly awesome!  Like I said, as runners, we’re all crazy.

Runners, let’s face it, we’re a little bit cultish.  I mean that in a good way, of course.  Or as my non-runner friend, Ben, says, “Runners are all drinking the Kool-aid, but it’s more like a protein shake.”

Seriously, think about it.  Anytime a runner finds themself in a room full of mostly strangers, we still have a way of gravitating to other runners.  It starts out with an, “Oh, you run too? What’s your favorite flavor of Gu?”  Afterwards comes a brief assessment period to size each other up with questions like: How many marathons have you run?  Ever done an Ultra?  What’s your PR?

Eventually, you and your running acquaintance find yourselves huddled in the corner where the true bonding begins as you discuss things like stress fractures and where you were on the course the year they cancelled the Chicago marathon because it was so bloody hot and the water got lost.  By the time you’re being dragged out the door, you and your new bestie have become facebook friends, you’ve tweeted about this awesome kindred spirit you’ve just met and you have plans to run together next weekend.

But why do we do it?  Why do we willingly go out in weather worse than the postman would and put our bodies through such torture?  Well, we do it in the name of fun.  We do it for discipline. Sometimes we do it out of guilt, knowing how we’ll feel if we don’t.  We do it for bragging rights.  But we also do it for purpose.

At the end of my run today, I found a new friend hanging out in the pavilion at Creve Coeur.  As I stretched a very tight IT band, Ed and I started talking.  When he was younger his goal had been to break the 4 minute mile.  The closest he ever got was 4:08. Umm, yeah, he passed the sizing-up assessment with flying colors.  But not just because of his speed.  Now Ed has Stage 4 Colon Cancer with metastasis to the liver.  He’s had baseball sized tumors removed and ongoing chemo.  Just like my friend, Teri, who I’ve talked about before, he is continuing his athletic feats while fighting a battle for his life.  I have nothing but respect for these folks, especially as I think about how much easier it is for my healthy body to go run 17 miles.

And earlier this week, I made another new friend, who I fit with new running shoes at the store.  Douang recently lost her 22 month old child, who was diagnosed with Leukemia at only 6 weeks old.  I can’t imagine anything worse in life than the pain of that.  She said she took up running to find purpose and to just keep going.

We all have storms in life.  They all look different.  You never know what’s going to be thrown your way.  Running has been a constant in my life, but the storms have blown through.  Some were just a passing shower, and some have been more catastrophic.  Some have delivered me to a point where I wanted to just stop eating altogether; running gave me a reason to eat.  I knew I needed food to have enough energy.  If I didn’t eat, I couldn’t run.

Douang was right, running gives us purpose when we want to throw in the towel and quit.  Or when we don’t even know what we want or what the next step is.  Storms in life will come and go.  During the times that the rain falls hard we learn to appreciate, even more, the days when the sun is shining.

It’s funny.  As I sit here typing this, the sun is starting to come out after a LOT of rain.  Which is appropriate seeing as I am currently entering a season of life where it feels like the sun is shining after running at least 17 miles in the rain.  I know it’s going to storm again eventually, so in the meantime, I’ll keep running.  I’ll keep logging the miles in any kind of weather, just to stay prepared for whatever comes my way.  Running won’t save me, but it might just give me a reason to get out of bed on the rainy days.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, there is a pint of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch in my freezer that is calling my name.  I’m going to eat the whole flipping thing. And then lapse into a post 17-miler coma.

RRG after a very wet 17 miles. Shirt says Running on Faith…because sometimes that’s all you’ve got to go on.