F*CK THE WEATHER!

So I love weather. I love rain, thunder, lightening, snow, wind, hail, cats & dogs. Growing up in the northwest sort of prepares you for the most unpredictable weather you can image. I remember running in rain as it turned to hail, then snow, only to turn into 80 degree sunshine before I got home. Yeah, that sort of crazy shit makes me ecstatic. Why? Cause it prepares your mind and body for the brutal shit that’ll inevitably hit you on race day at some point.

Yesterday was the LA Marathon and Los Angeles suffered one of those unpredictably brutal storms. While I didn’t get to run the actual race (weeks of sickness ruined my training schedule) I DID have a scheduled 17 mile training run. Perfect! I’d get my miles in and push myself through some forecasted rainy weather. If the marathon runners could do 26.2 miles in this shit storm, I could do a measly 17.

Well, when I woke up to heavy rain & crazy wind, I knew I was gonna be in some shit. I prepped for my run as normal with a little breakfast, hydration, and tossed on some rainy run gear. The second I stepped outside I began to doubt my decision to run. It was THAT bad. I was drenched within the first 100 meters. Not just drenched, but freezing. Not just freezing, but downright miserable. Did it stop me? FUCK no! I was going to get that 17 miles in regardless of what Mother Nature could throw at me. The problem was Mother Nature had more up her sleeve: Flooding.

When it rains in LA, the city goes to shit. Why? Well, because people drive like asshats and the city streets turn to giant lakes of gutter water. The city of Los Angeles must have been built by some real shitty civil engineers who smoked crack because they seemed to have forgotten to put drains ANYWHERE. Consequences? EVERY intersection, EVER hole, EVERY sidewalk fills with water to the point that streets and roads become rivers.

How did this affect my run? Well, by mile 4, my route was completely blocked by flood water. In all directions. I was trapped in a 4 mile radius from my house. WTF? How was I going to get my miles in? Well, I decided that I would just keep running the same 4 mile loop as many times as I could stand. By the third loop, the brutal hills (this was the hardest section of my original 17 mile route), puddle jumping, and river crossing had exhausted me to the point that I knew it was safer to go home than risk hypothermia or injury. I wrapped up about 13 miles into my run. I was done.

While I got home in one piece, though a little disappointed I couldn’t finish my mileage, I couldn’t help by admire those who ran the LA Marathon that much more. It must have taken some serious balls and perseverance not to throw in the towel during that run. I hope those of you that did finish are wearing that damn medal around your neck for the next month. You earned the SHIT out of it!