Saturdays in March include an early morning walk with the run/walk group.
Please. Not too early. I skimmed the email. Took note of the where. Missed the when. I was still snug in my bed when a few brave souls gathered and began to run the trail. The rain started with the runners, light at first but enough to dampen them well by the end of the run.
Later, at the time of previous runs, I drove in the rain to the meeting place. I waited in rain of varying intensity for others from our group. Traffic on the trail was light. As I waited I remembered a time on vacation when my companions and I became as soaked as sponges.
It was my first visit to Niagara Falls. The autumn day was cold, raw, and misty when we left the house. By the time we arrived at the falls the mist turned to rain. One member brought umbrellas. They were useless in the wind. We viewed the falls. The mist came up from the bottom. The rain descended from the sky. The wind blew moisture into all the spaces between. I clicked photos. We went to different areas of the viewing platforms.
By the time we walked into the souvenir shop our sneakers squeaked.