Swimmin' in the Rain

I swam with friends today who told stories of hailstones on the ground the size of walnuts, of wind tearing branches off trees and the kinds of whoppers that bring dimension and thrill to the otherwise steady grind of getting along with the weather in the wintertime.

A friend has two dogs, both small, and one is young and silly, a puppy.  "She's only five pounds, a little Chihuahua mix, not a Husky. She's afraid to go outside, and I don't blame her. There were potted plants flying around the patio. Just think if she went out - she'd be flying around, too."  Except for certain damage to the dog, that idea has appeal to me.

It was in the mid 40s at swim time, no heater in the locker room and no one wanted to brave the dash from there to the pool much.  It's the only bad part about swimming on a day wrapped in cold wind, delivered with rain and overcast.  The strategy is to get your stuff ready, yell and complain about it with your friends, and then all of you burst out of the locker room at once, run for the pool and jump in, which is what we did. 

Our swim coach is a tough cookie:  "People always complain about having to swim in the rain.  What are they afraid of, getting wet?"  No.  That'd be a fear of lightning, I believe.  "I'll let you know if I see lightning.  If it looks like it's getting close, I'll make you get out."  I thought of all of us caught in the pool by a slamming jolt of lightning.  The only comfort -- and not one that I'd ever be able to relate to a friend later -- was that I would certainly die doing something I loved. 

We were in the middle of the workout, resting briefly at the wall when we heard a low rumble.  The Monterey Airport is nearby and a friend confidently stated the rumble was a jet taking off.  It's possible.  About a 50-50 chance of lightning vs jet, and the sound is easily confused.  I was thinking lightning, not jet, was making the sound, and I felt a bit uneasy, but not uneasy enough to stop and get out.   

Shortly after the rumble stopped, rain - big ice-cube-cold rain slanting down hard - was stabbing our arms and pinging off our swim caps.  We kept on and felt crazy, but swimmers pride themselves on things like that.  Most fringe-sport athletes do.  Rugby players, cross-country skiiers, that kind of athlete.  We are not a pampered and spoiled lot.  We do crazy things like swim in heavy downpours, hail, freezing cold.  Why just sit on the couch when the alternative was so strange and fun? 

Now the rain is coming straight down, stitching lines of water from the even, silver gray of heaven to the dark earth below.  Rivulets are flowing down the street and everywhere is gurgling, splatting, pattering rain.