Common sense

"Common sense is the collection of prejudices acquired by age eighteen." - Albert Einstein

Earthquake

Around 2pm my two computer screens at work started shaking. The desk too. So did the floor. A shake. Then pause. Another shake. Another pause. Then more. I stood into the office doorframe, playing cool, but checking others and checking where the building structure is the sturdiest. Never thought of pulling the phone camera out. My photographer's instincts are dead!

There are concrete pillars throughout the floor. The building was still shaking beneath my feet, and I thought about taking a casual stroll and installing myself next to one of those carrying pillars. But then the fire alarm went on. So we evacuated the building, cramming into a claustrophobic concrete stairway to the exit.

Firefighters appeared in about 10 minutes, but were sent away by the security. There was no damage and no fire. And, sadly, we were asked to come back in and continue working.

According to the news, the earthquake's epicenter was somewhere in Virginia, 5.9 on the scale. No damage or casualties reported in Canada. Phew!

Running (and singing) in the rain

The post I wrote for my running blog, re-posted here on M's request.

- A message for wet runners -

Photo credit: brokenheartedrunner.wordpress.com

There was a drummer outside the bedroom window this morning. As I woke up, there was a constant drumroll of raindrops against the glass. I confess, I love to sleep in the pouring rain, as long as it's outside and I'm inside. But, sleep isn't what I was about to do. Running was!

Margaret, my wife, was surprisingly cheerful while we dressed for a run. She's the sleeper in the family, the one who has to be dragged out of bed, especially at 5 a.m. But not today! She hummed and sang the old cliche "I'm singing in the rain". And so we stepped out.

Huddled under the awning, we synced our RunKeepers and stepped into the shower. Here I must explain that Margaret is a fairly novice runner—she was a sprinter and a hurdler in high school, but joined me on my long distance plodding only recently, and has yet to run through the elements. It was pleasant 22 degrees Celsius (71 F) and the rain was more refreshing than hindering.

Margaret dashed out like a bullet, with a gasp and a little yelp when the drops hit her. I sprinted after her, calling her to slow down. She slowed a little, but was still going too fast. I had to explain that we are going to be out at least 20 - 30 minutes and we are going to be soaked, there's no outrunning the rain. The only difference is that she can relax and enjoy the run, or she can run as fast as she started and be miserable. That finally slowed her down to normal pace.

I watched her form and laughed. Her shoulders were hunched and arms were barely swinging, kept up high at her chest. She looked at me under the bill of her hat, rain dripping from it.

"You know," I said, "hunching shoulders will not keep you any drier. You'll get just as wet as if you're swinging your arms normally."

Then I witnessed the transformation. Margaret laughed, dropped her shoulders, swung her arms and splashed on. Like kids, we ran, wadding through the puddles, splashing, spouting the rain pouring down our faces, joking, laughing. Once we surrendered to it, the rain was amazingly liberating. It was such an unusual sense of freedom, we were like children finally allowed to play in the mud.

When we finished, still laughing and dripping water all over the floor, Margaret confessed that she really liked running in the rain. Once the first panic subsided, she said, she loved every step.

And that is our message for all you wet runners out there—there's nothing so liberating as summer rain. Don't fight it, leave the rain-coat at home. Instead, embrace it, surrender to it, and enjoy the run. It will cool you down, leave you feeling refreshed and make you feel alive, like a child you used to be.