Shakespeare for the Soaked

It was an oddly warm 45 degrees Saturday morning when I left for my run, but except for the lack of snow which meant a lack of skiing, I didn't see any need to complain. I also didn't see the need to put on anything warm. By the time I got half way to the mouth of Provo Canyon, it was starting to drizzle a bit, but I love running in the rain so that was an added bonus. "What a glorious run!" I was thinking. "I pity every person who is inside!" The further I ran, the harder it rained, but my spirits were still high. The challenge against the elements united me to to the few fellow runners I saw along the Provo River trail. When one runner saw me wiping rain water out of my eyes so I could see, he said, "It's wet, hugh?" I felt like Henry V in his St. Crispain's day speech, lucky to be among one of the brave runners out that day, enjoying a crisp run..."We few, we happy few..." I reached my turn around point up the canyon and headed back, still thrilled to be out running and excited by the challenge of the elements. However, as the rain kept coming, and I kept getting wetter and wetter and colder and colder. Eventually, I started to feel less the valiant warrior, and more of a need to "Stiffen the sinews and summon up the blood." I was getting to the point of my run where you just grit your teeth and tell yourself you're not going to stop until you get home. I was getting to the point where the battle starts to get mental. But I just kept going. The more I stiffened my sinews the more I began to feel trapped, like Antonio in The Merchant of Venice. Like Antonio, a small gamble and a misjudgment of the circumstances had placed me in an uncomfortable position. I thought embarking on such a run with the clothing I had would be sufficient. The unforeseen storm put a literal damper on my run, similar to how the unforeseen the mishap with his ships put unexpected pressure on and almost cost the life of Antonio. We neither of us an obviously stupid move--Antonio was sure his ships would come back, and I was sure I would be clothed sufficiently. We both made what we assumed was a reasonable gamble, but because of an unexpected change in circumstance (him loosing his ships, me getting caught in a suddenly cold rain storm), we got stuck in rather uncomfortable positions. He was luckily saved from his oversight by friends. What happened to me? Well, the consequences of my poor decision were not as drastic as Antonio's--my life was not on the line. I couldn't stop running because then I really would have gotten cold, so I just gutted through it--by the time I had a mile left, I was miserable, but I knew I could make it through anything for a mile. When I staggered into my apartment, soaked through and exhausted, my motherly roommate exclaimed, "There you are! I've been worried about you!" Not taking my phone, water, or food, like I normally do on a run that long may have been another oversight that contributed to my misery, in addition to my freezing hands. After a painful shower while my hands un-thawed, I was back to normal and ready for the next adventure, none the worse for the wear.