Rain didn’t stop play

It was chucking it down when I got up for parkrun this morning. I’d been expecting wind, not rain. I put my waterproof coat on and set off. It had stopped raining.

As we were milling about beforehand in the bike shed that serves as our volunteer HQ, the rain started stotting it down, getting heavier for the briefing, getting heavier while everyone was running or plodding round the course, stopping when it was all over. Then the wind whipped up even more than it already was.

Everyone that finished was wet through; the volunteers were wet through, except one, who had been in the only dry spot: under the roof of the school.

He told me all about how awful it had been with the wind whirling around in the corner, and seeing the rain coming towards him, yet not reaching him.

My feet were swimming; my jeans were soaked where the wind had driven the rain into them.

‘I’m not getting any sympathy, am I?’

‘Nope.’

It was good to get home into dry clothes. I’m still warming up. Mr Perkins is acting as a hot water bottle.