Training when it's raining

. . . . and blowing a gale. Well, I couldn't wimp out on the second day, could I? Especially as Teresa said, ". . . you're not going to let a spot of rain stop you, are you?"
I ventured out at 5.45pm and drove to my allotted running strip, the Preston beach wall promenade at Overcombe. Stepping out of the car, I was immediately assailed by gale force winds and lashing rain. The top part of my new running shoes is made of a sort of nylon mesh, intended to keep your feet cool. The wind was blowing through this mesh and across my feet in a weird kind of way. I decided to retain the ski jacket, woolly hat and added gloves to the athletic ensemble. I had (foolishly?) discarded the second pair of socks before leaving home though.
Still, I thought, there won't be many others around this evening.
Now, for anyone who may be interested, there are several good reasons for not training when it's raining (and blowing a gale). First, you get seriously wet. Second, it's not so bad when the wind is behind you, because you get blown along, but when you are running into it, the effect is quite dramatic. And, third, the benches are all wet so you can't sit down for a rest without getting your bottom wet.
I set off into the head wind. I didn't realise that it made such a difference but before long, I was gasping for breath. I slowed to a walk just before reaching the edge of delirium. I also noticed that my legs were complaining from not being given a proper recuperation period from the previous 25 minutes of abuse, just 24 hours earlier.
Two brief walking spells later and I reached the end of the promenade, 0.7 miles. So far, I had seen not a soul. I turned around and started the run back. The same two guys that I saw on the first night were effortlessly loping towards me, dressed in shorts and running tops, chattering away to each other, oblivious to the monsoon conditions.
The change was dramatic with the wind behind me. I almost had to stop myself from being blown along too fast. Just one brief walking spell on this stretch. I've worked out roughly where the halfway mark is now, and so I pushed myself to get there before giving in to the rapidly approaching blackout. I could see the lights of Overcombe corner and pounded onwards, rain dripping from, well, just about everywhere. 20 minutes in total. That is probably pretty rubbish for about 1.4 miles. Still, every journey begins with the first step.
I had to walk up the gradient to the car this time, legs feeling pretty shaky. I stripped off the saturated ski jacket, hat and gloves in pouring rain and scrambled back into the car to set off for home, warmth, comfort and food.
Mark warned me about the pain. After the first run, I thought, "it's not that bad." This morning, every muscle screamed from the thighs downward. I am hobbling around like some old man. OK, I am an old man, but there's a juvenile trying to get out!