Puddle Swimming

Yesterday morning it was pouring. It was pouring so hard that there were flash flood warnings. And, the flash flood warnings were actually serious because the puddles Shea and I were running through nearly came up to my knees in certain places.

To many, running at 5:30 in the morning in the 50 degree rain may sound  miserable. To me, it was heaven-sent. Almost as heaven-sent as cake batter ice cream from Cold Stone Creamery with Oreos smashed into it. It felt good. It was refreshing.

As I splashed through the high puddles, I couldn't help but hope another lay close ahead. I even ventured so much as to wish that I could find a puddle deep enough to actually dive into. For some reason, I wanted to swim in these amazingly refreshing puddles.

Odd, because I spent all summer pregnant and with a higher body temperature than I am used to, yet I did not go swimming once. Nor, did I have the desire to step foot in a pool. It could be because I was a fat load and did not want to be seen in a bathing suit. It could have been because the only available places to swim would be the highly polluted Lake Erie or a public pool. Public pools sketch me out, especially knowing how often I peed in the pool as a kid, a teenager, and a collegiate water polo player.

My desire to swim passed shortly after the rain stopped. But maybe, just maybe, this is a sign that I need to get myself signed up for a Tough Mudder very soon!