A 45-minute run through in the rain reminded me to pay attention to the finer points in life.

5. Flattery and human kindness. I noticed an SUV slowing down at an intersection in front of me, and figured the driver was probably lost. As I got closer, I heard his transmission clunk into park, and then the driver’s door opened. A fetching fellow wearing snazzy clothes stepped out and very cutely (and awkwardly) asked, “Do you, um, need, uh, a ride back or something?” He pointed at the sky. “Cause I mean, it’s raining…” I thanked him and refused his offer, briefly explaining that I was getting soaked on purpose. He drove away, and I smiled like a schoolgirl until the next steep hill. Sure, he could’ve been a serial killer, but the flattery felt good, especially since I’m still alive to write about it.

4. Freedom. Heavy rain and cloud-cover offered a break from sweltering summer heat. Being the only pedestrian in sight made me feel insane, but in a good, fun way. I embraced freedom because I chose to get out and run like I’d hoped to all day, even though the storm tried its best to convince me to stay on the couch. I did, however, wait until there was no lightning in sight. I like to feel free, not fried.

3. Indulgence. Waffle Cone Wednesday didn’t turn into gut rot after I ran off some of the calories. I had a scrumptious blend of peanut butter and vanilla in my cone, and running made me feel completely justified in my choice to gobble down the frozen yogurt and every speck of cone.

2. Trees. There’s no gentler, more beautiful tear than the one that rolled off a magnolia leaf and down my cheek. The water was cool and clean and earthy. A simple offering from a tree felt like a priceless gift from a wise old soul.

1. Appreciation. I saw more of the world around me than I could’ve ever seen had I peered through a window. As I flew through my favorite park—really, running felt like flying today—I couldn’t believe what a perfect rainbow arched across the landscape. Maybe people thought I was a slightly off-shade leprechaun in my high-vis shirt, but I didn’t care. The few cars around me drove through raindrops and away from what looked like an artist’s rendering of a classic rainbow. I knew that even if they looked out their windows and saw it, I had the better view. The rainbow seemed to drop one of its sides into the bayou, and I gleefully ran toward the bridge to see if it really did fall into the water. It didn’t, but as I crested the bridge, pelicans soared over my head in the multi-colored sky. Every bit of my slice of earth was in sharp, stunning focus. There’s something about rain that brings out the best details of life, and the resulting musty shoes are well worth a run in the rain.

Ready to ride

I thought I might chicken out as I clomped down the steep driveway in new cycling shoes. My loyal friend, who agreed to play human training wheels for the day, guided my bike down the hill so as to not complicate my descent. I remembered watching another friend fall awkwardly on the soccer field in high school and hearing her collarbone snap. By the time I got to the street, I was most certain my collarbone would be broken in at least three places from spilling off the bike.

The ride started out well, although the human training wheels routine—friend holding seat and top tube while I clipped in—was absolutely necessary. Once my feet were in, I felt a surprising oneness with the bike, and charged happily up the hill toward my first intersection. I don’t live in a high-traffic area, so I was pretty sure I’d be able to pull through a left turn without a full stop.

Not so. “The Cat Lady,” as she is affectionately known by many neighbors, had chosen that exact moment to come roaring up the hill in her ancient, spray-painted Mercury Marquis. I felt a moment of panic, remembered my intact collarbone, and concentrated on swinging a right turn instead of my intended left. I glided happily onto the open road, and could already tell the improved efficiency and comfort brought by switching to cycling shoes. I actually felt more stable on the bike, and buzzed around the block to return home to show off my skills.

The coolest part of the ride—it was only about a ten-minute jaunt, but I’ve learned to build up new things slowly and quit while I’m ahead—was being passed by a sleek, black Mercedes. The driver gave me a wide birth, and I could tell he had to press harder on the gas pedal than he originally intended to get around me, because I was almost doing the speed limit, and most people don’t expect that of a biker.

Getting off the bike might have been a bit of a problem without my dear training wheels, but the whole thing seemed dangerously effortless. I got off the bike feeling exhilarated and confident, and I can’t wait to clip in and ride again. I may fall next time, but the initial sting of fear is gone, and I’m sure glad to not have to attach to this post the picture I had in mind—a view of the emergency room ceiling.