Mother Nature Speaks with the Retarded Superhero

Have you ever tried to talk to nature? I don't often do that, but earlier this afternoon I found myself having a rather serious one-on-one with Mother Nature.

I've been wanting to run since last week, and finally this afternoon I was able to get out of the house to jog in UP. Half-past four found me walking towards the oblation, looking up at the heavy clouds rolling by. Without paying any heed to the onlookers, I tried to do a little sun dance, because crap, I really wanted to run.

I wasn't even ten paces away from the starting line when pain blossomed in my stomach like you wouldn't believe. It felt like something sucker-punched me in the gut. I swear I almost doubled over from the pain. The other joggers looked as if they wanted to demand for me to stop, while some just plain looked at me like I was stupid. Lesson learned: do not jog in the afternoon. Jog in the mornings, on an empty stomach.

Anyway, I was walking through my first lap when the sky opened up and washed away today's filth with the rain. I had to walk to the nearest shelter, and so late in the afternoon found me watching the rain while writing in my mini-laptop. I took the time to sit down and watch as Mother Nature did her thing.

It was beautiful. The sights and sounds are worth having my jog screwed over.

There's the thick smell of rain-drenched grass and wet earth,
the pitter-patter of the rain against the steel roof of the shed.
Lightning striking through the gray skies,
Thunder rolling across the heavy clouds.

In the distance I hear laughter coming from a group, as they too waited for the rain to stop.
I saw two men playing tennis in the rain, and wondered, for a short moment, how it would feel to run after a small green ball across the wet, slippery court.
There was an old car parked across the street, its driver talking in the phone with wild, angry gestures.
I hear the faint sound of my music through the dangling earphones of my iPod.

And the words kept flowing. Like the rain. Like the laughter. Like the gestures. Like the music.

And then slept came over me, and I had to lie down and heed its summons. Yes, right there in the shed.

I'd have played and walked in the rain, if it weren't for the iPod strapped to my arm and the phones lodged in the compartment of my supercargo pants. A little rain wouldn't hurt me, but it would damage my babies badly. So I wasn't able to run today, but I was able to at least appreciate things that I normally take for granted.

I was also able to talk with Mother Nature today.

Her message for me today: "Don't try to get out to run when you see dark clouds hovering in the sky. The power of your mind and your sun dance don't hold a candle to the power of my forces. Stop pushing your luck and go home."

And so, properly chastised, my sole reply was, "Ok."

And I went back home. Dripping wet, but a bit happier, nonetheless.