The Chapter Wherein I Decide My 30's Are Going To Be One Moxy-Filled, Delightful Run In The Rain

This is me in my 30's. And this is the river where I run.

I woke up on my 30th birthday to a tremendous rain storm. Lying in bed with my legs bent into a figure four, I engaged in the usual "do I brave the weather to go for a run" brain debate.

Opening statement: "No, the bed is warm! You will get wet! The rain will cause your breasts to shrivel and your grammar to revert to 1984."
The counter argument: "Don't be a pansy! Breasts are overrated and the 80s were fabulous. Rain will give you luxurious hair and sound financial investment advice."
The counter counter argument: "But the bed is warm and maternal and cocoon like. And according to the Bush administration, there is solid evidence that rain played a foundational and insidious role in 9-11."
Closing statement: "Your mom."

Ultimately, I decided that despite potential raisin breasts and 5-year-old articulation, I was going out for a six miler. Because. Well. Thirty-year-old Krisanne has moxy. She doesn't let a little precipitation stand in the way of cardiovascular bliss (I use the term 'bliss' loosely--an accurate translation is something between utter torture and mild contentment). Unexpectedly, the whole experience from toe to nose was delightful. Delight was the smell of outdoor school--that damp dirt smell mingled with wet canvas and tree bark. Delight was the velvety wet petals (still hanging around from spring) stuck to the sides of my shoes and ankles. Delight was drinking in the bird sounds and earth sounds and rushing, rushing water sounds for a solid 60 minutes. Delight was also being a little bit famous on a 6 mile stretch. A woman runner is an anomaly in Korea. A woman running in the rain is just plain cuckoo. I wasn't surprised to encounter raised eyebrows, amused hellos, giggles peeking out from under umbrellas, horn honks, and a zealous good-morning-shout-out from another runner clear across the river.

Back at my apartment, reeling in post-run "bliss", I sat on the floor and peeled off my wet socks. Rubbing the salt from my eyes, I could think of no better way to celebrate my parents' good sense in conceiving me than a long run in the rain. And really, I could think of no better way to embrace a new and hopeful decade to come.