I believe I entered a new realm of hard-coreness this past weekend. No, I didn’t run any farther than usual, I didn’t PR in spectacular fashion, and I definitely didn’t wear compression socks. But I did run in possibly the worst weather I’ve ever encountered on a race. Just showing up for the P.R.o.N.E. 5K on Boston’s Castle Island was an accomplishment, if I don’t say so myself. Indeed, I can’t believe how many runners came out, given the conditions. But then again, there were a number of small, fluffy enticements …
P.R.o.N.E. stands for Pug Rescue of New England, an organization I was beyond thrilled to support. I am the most dog-obsessed person I know who doesn’t actually own a dog. (I’m terribly allergic, which is the tragedy of my life.) Surely, only a pug-fest could draw so many people out of doors in such weather.
I had been obsessively Googling the forecast all week, but sadly each time I checked, things looked more dire. It was raining only lightly when I left home, though, so I had some hope that things might improve.
I was especially unprepared for the wind. As I walked with a fellow runner along the water towards the start area, I was shocked at how blowy it was. Then I realized we were traveling along part of the course, and I started to get The Fear. I am terrible at running in the wind. In the annals of things that make me quake in my sneakers, it lies somewhere in between hills and compression socks.