No, this isn't me, but...

Perhaps once a year I have perfection...or a slight taste of what it can be. My definition, of course, is odd, but it goes something like this.

I came home for work, and hungry, I chose to go for a run before I made dinner. The storm clouds were beginning, but I thought I could beat it. About mile one, they opened up and it was a downpour - hard - and abundant. I was drenched, but the air was cool and the oxygen was tasty. I kept running. I ran more. I ran even more.

What amused me about this is that it was in my new environment and I was running by these large homes and many people drove by me in their Volvos, Mercedes, BMWs and other status-cars, splashing me with puddles, making me more wet than I already was. I thought it was rather masochistic but enjoyed that these wealthy people drenched me and each time I had more in my kick. It felt great. I was free - at least for this moment - and enjoying every second of it.

Running in the rain - if caught in it - is simply the best.