I will definitely have to sleep in my car tonight. It’s pouring with rain now, positively pouring, and thundering. “Heavy rain and thunderstorms” had been in the forecast today around 2-3pm, so I guess here it is, about an hour earlier than expected. I just hope it gives some reprieve later, so I can cook myself some dinner and actually get my car set up for me to sleep in tonight…
I made it back to the campground after my long run & little swim in the lake just in time to have a hot shower and get myself lunch before the downpour started, forcing me to hunker down with my laptop and books.
We used to have thunderstorms like this in the summertime, at the beach, where I grew up in northern Italy. As kids, it always felt fun: adventurous and cozy. We used to have just enough shelter from the beach-hut to keep us dry and warm, and safe, while also allowing to make it exciting because all we had protecting us from the downpour and thunder was the thatched roof of little huts a few dozen yards from the water’s edge. We’d all huddle close and often just pass the time by playing cards together as we waited for the storms to subside.
I grew up learning to read the weather. I didn’t realize it at first, I didn’t realize it until I actually started sailing around the Mediterranean with my sailing buddy/boyfriend in college. But even before then, already in elementary school and then throughout middle school and high school, those summers spent partly at the beach and partly in the mountains, spending days on end out in nature, taught me to read the weather, to look at the sky, feel the wind, smell the air, and know what to expect, know when to turn back or seek shelter.
My parents taught me to be adventurous. As much as they later disapproved of “how far” I took “adventure”, how much I pushed boundaries, how much I did “against the/their rules” (i.e. how “non-normative” I’ve always been), they taught me to be this way. They taught me by example. While all the Italian mothers panicked about the summer storms, trying to rush their kids back home before even the first few drops of rain started, my American mother of English & German descent would delight in the downpours. She taught us not to go swimming or out on the empty beach lest we be hit by lightning, but other than that, what she taught us was to delight in the weather: to see it coming, to prepare for it, and then just enjoy it. I can remember the swims in the sea that we’d have as soon as the summer storms had cleared: almost nobody was left at the beach by then, usually, all having fled with approaching rain, so we had the whole beach to ourselves and the chilly water, coming in big, gray, frothy waves from the storm, was one of the most fun parts of the whole experience. And it was similar when we went hiking in the Austrian mountains in the summer: we checked the weather forecast as much as we could before leaving the house, but then it was up to us and our common sense on the trails. And we’d just pack our knapsacks — one each, even when my sister & I were very young — each one of us carrying the essentials for one self: food, water, extra layers, rain-jacket, hat. (Then my parents had some extras, like additional snacks & water and the first-aid kit, for everyone.) What I appreciate — and I can really only appreciate it now, having been unable to really see this before — is that my parents taught me to “just go and do it” or “just go and get it” — that “it” being what ones wants from life, be it a day at the beach, a hike, a new job, the place of their dreams. They taught me to not let the rain stop me: they taught me to bring a raincoat for the rain and to go anyway.
And that’s what I have been doing my entire life.
Last night I was able to sleep in my tent. It must have rained, or at least drizzled, because there were drops on my tent this morning and the grass was moist, and it felt colder and damper during the night. But I was OK. I didn’t know exactly what I’d be able to do today, so I left my plans flexible, telling myself I’d decide in the morning based on how the weather looked. I’m taking each day as it comes, one day at a time, fitting my coach’s training plan for me into the weather here, not the other way around. Since the sky was mostly clear this morning and the forecast was for storms in the afternoon, I decided to anticipate my long run from the weekend to today, since I knew I’d have 2-3 hours of decent weather. I brought my rain jacket on my long run and just went for it.
Tonight I’ll sleep in my car and tomorrow we’ll see.
It’s the same spirit I had with my sailing buddy/boyfriend when we sailed around the Mediterranean as youngsters: a plan, yes, but vague and flexible, adaptable to the weather, to the circumstances. There’s something very liberating in doing things this way. It makes me feel very attuned to my surroundings (& to myself), very much in the present moment.
The Little Prince and the Fox 