After smugly posting that I'd run in the rain only twice last year here in
L.A. (and I only take a few days off all year), the Lord and universe has
had the last word.
Seems like we've had nothing but rain for the last couple of weeks. I guess
that's no big deal for Seattle, but LA was not made for this incessant
drenching. Sections of freeway are under water, streets flooded. The
people aren't prepared for this. We're a dusty desert breed out here. Now
I find myself wincing as I put on soggy shoes, just like the Scottish
contingent.
The National Weather Service has these encouraging words:
IN THE LAST 12 HOURS...OVER 4 INCHES OF RAIN HAS FALLEN AT BOTH
SAN MARCOS PASS IN THE SANTA YNEZ RANGE AND AT NORDHOFF RIDGE NEAR THE TOPA
TOPAS OF VENTURA COUNTY. BOTH RADAR AND SATELLITE DATA SHOW THAT EVEN MORE
HEAVY RAIN WILL INUNDATE THE REGION THIS AFTERNOON THROUGH THE EVENING
HOURS.
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Saturday I ran up and down the first couple thousand feet of Mt. Wilson, in
pouring rain, on a gravel fireroad blasted into the side of the mountain. I
was going to do 4 five mile out-and-backs, but couldn't get motivated. Even
a break chatting with the fireman in the shelter of the ranger station
didn't help. When a small landslide fell before me on the second trip up,
I decided it might be a bit dangerous. So for the umpteenth time, I cut
short my long run, and called it a day at 10 miles and 2800' of climb.
I tried out the hand warmers, although it was only 50-ish, and they worked
great -- until they got wet (my sugoi wind mits were soaked).
Today (Sunday), I looked at the sattelite pictures, and resigned myself to
another rain run. This time I went on paved roads running through Griffith
Park. The park has a mountainous 4100 acres (dwarfing Central Park's 843)
and sits atop the eastern beginnings of the Santa Monica mountains, which
bisect LA.
Inside the park it was Waterworld. Streets were rivers. Water was pouring
out of the mountains at every turn, from every little canyon, from every
fissure and cleft. Imagine a thousand Venetian fountains, with dolphins
gurgling, cherubs pissing, mermaids aiming the streams from their breasts.
The mountains were one giant fountain.
Swales were silted up, and rock and gravel covered sections of the pavement.
Soon after I started, the rain had retreated to a light mist, and a fog
engulfed the Hollywood hills, reducing visibility to a few hundred feet. A
40 foot pine sagged almost sideways, straining to hold on to the earth, to
keep from falling those last 10 feet into the road. The sounds: water
rushing downhill, my feet splashing, a million little waterfalls, and the
occasional breep from a happy frog. Why was I humming "singing in the rain"
in time with my strides?
I saw only one other person on my 2 hour run. I had a great time. I'm
going back there tomorrow.
-- Dan