Chased By Lightning

I woke up at 5, wanting very much to sleep in and certainly not run. But Hal Higdon's marathon training schedule said otherwise.

In my own early morning fog, I checked Weather.com. Heavy rain was approaching from the south. Using plotting skills perfected through many watches on the bridge of a naval warship - and too much coffee-induced analysis with quartermasters and boatswain's mates - I deducted the storm would arrive around 6 sharp, enough time for a four-miler.

At Mile Two, the lightning looked too close for comfort. Naval plotter was now running faster. Prudently, I veered on a side street, cutting off a half mile. At Mile Three, the thunder started. Lightning was closer. I wasn't happy. My body wasn't either. Running fast at 5:35 with sore muscles from a 16-miler over the weekend wasn't the equation I needed.

I cruised into the house, perspiring heavily. It's still muggy here. It's rained eight straight days, too, in spots. After a muggy weekend, the long-term forecast calls for fall-like temps. Bout da**ed time.

A reminder of what this is all about: Cape Cod Marathon preview