Puddle Stomping

Today I ran in a 10 mile race in Chapel Hill. It was a warm spring morning with 100% percent humidity. The course was very hilly — it is called Chapel Hill after all — including a mile long hill near that end of the race with its own timing pads. As I was finishing the race, I spotted a large puddle leftover from the night before’s rain. I was already drenched with sweat, including my shoes. The puddle was 10 yards from the finish line and I was pushing myself to finish strong. The child-like part of my brain took over and rather than avoid puddle, I jumped in the air and came down as hard as I could with both feet in the puddle. I didn’t even pay attention to who got splashed or what their reaction might have been. I just continued my sprint to the finish line.

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