Running in the Rain

Autumn weekends mean a chance not to have to use a headtorch whilst running. There is something almost Zorb ball like when running with a white bubble of light around you; best of all are the clear, moonlit nights, almost as bright as day but monochrome.  However, Sunday saw me setting off into the most unremitting clag from just next to Kendal’s name’s derivation, the River Kent.  Sheltered by the houses, and in the lee of the westerly wind, it did not seem too bad at first, but once above the town and onto the more open scar, the point of wearing a waterproof seemed redundant, so thoroughly wetting was the rain.  I splooshed and slid through mud, squeezed through the odd stile, and on up to the top, head down, almost like being in my previously mentioned bubble I moaned about earlier. 

And then gradually, but quickly enough to make it magic, the darkness became brighter, the clouds thinner, and within 5 minutes, patches of blue emerged, with altocumulus freshly polished and defined. By the time I reached the second summit, the sun was out, there were shadows and the reward of a run down Kendal’s outdoor play ground  in unusual isolation was to be had, everyone else seemingly still in bed and avoiding the disappeared rain.