It's 8:39 on a calm, quiet Saturday. Outside, the sun is gently breaking through the trees to flood with warmth the cold, semi-frozen ground beneath. A car meanders down the street every once in a while, but most of the neighborhood seems to still be sleeping. Inside, our house is mostly motionless, save for the light tap-tapping of eager fingers on the keyboard of an overused MacBook. A husband slumbers upstairs, oblivious to his wife's oatmeal-eating and green tea-slurping downstairs.
Today is good. Tomorrow - the storm arrives. Tomorrow, Kevin and I will wake early, eat breakfast in a frenzy, throw on a few warm layers and a Garmin 305, and head out for The Twenty Miler. We will run for hours, stopping only to eat sugary gels and sip water. We will appreciate some of the miles, while hating others. We will train just as hard mentally as we will physically. In this storm, we have no umbrellas, no rain jackets, or waterproof boots. Going in headfirst, without shelter, is the only way to get it done.
What's the old saying? If you want the rainbow, you gotta get through the rain?
Well, we'll definitely go through the rain tomorrow. We won't get to see the rainbow until May 8, though, when we cross the finish line in Kalamazoo. That's a long time to wait to see a rainbow, but it's worth it.