There’s nothing like a fierce storm to inspire me. Katrina (that bitch) or the inner battle, you decide. At 5:20 last night I giggled to myself and the local news station as they warned of tornados and showed me a bunch of red blobs over nearby cities. Yes, this is exactly what I needed. I threw my shoes on and gave way to my anxious, willing legs, letting them usher me out the door for a solid, spirited run. This was going to be a good one.

The streets were silent with the exception of the rain and the cars blasting through it, I knew full well that in the safety of the houses lining the quaint neighborhood streets I was passing were people hunkering down in their tubs and basements. I rolled through their world and danced on the cusp of their nests in now ruined running shoes and thanked them silently as they peered from their windows for leaving me to it. Bits of the 1:20 trek had me lumbering rather than running (the extra weight of my soaked footwear) but hell yeah, it was all mine; every bit of it. Nobody was there with me in spirit, in mind or in person because nobody deserved to share it with me. Well, almost nobody.

Giant drops pelted me at a rate that wasn’t even worthy of lifting a hand to wipe my face, just squint and crinkle your nose and hope you push off a small deluge with the contortion, open your eyes, blink, try again.

Fair weather? Not me. I could have wussed out when it started really dumping 10 minutes in, I even asked the folks hiding in the gas station if they thought I should. They all said “yes” so I smiled, asked for a plastic bag, bundled up the iPod and kept on.

They obviously didn’t know me.

An hour plus of dancing between the drops wasn’t enough, so having changed into a dry set of clothes I invited Kim and Max over and we went for another hour. This time walking at a good clip, trying not to mind my now screaming knee, and simply soaking up the stillness and vacant streets.

Damn it, I love the rain.

Much later, the radar looked like this.

I recognize that the destruction and ravaging that took place during the night and continues today is not something to take lightly and I sincerely hope you, your family, your friends, the guy you met in the grocery store once, your sisters cousins plumber and the like are all safe. Even our wee Helen was hit over night by one of those tornados, while a levy broke in The Big Easy and my Doppler remains littered with red blobs. It’s ugly out there (but I still love it).

Donate now to offer some relief if you can: The Red Cross.