I’ve always been a little OCD about my exercise. Maybe a lot, actually, but no judging.

It’s not that I care about how many calories I burn when I exercise. I just love the way I feel afterwards, and everyone around me tends to enjoy being around me more.

I’ve gone through every form of exercise: yoga, P90X, weight training, running, training for a marathon (which I never actually ran) and walking.

Lately, I’ve gotten into a yoga and walking groove, and it seems to be working well for me. Especially since we have a huge Golden Retriever, Winnie, who is also more enjoyable to be around after he exercises.

I had limited time to walk today, and really wanted to get it out of the way, but just as I was about to leave, it started raining. Telling Winnie we’re about to go for a walk is like taking a bunch of kids to a candy store and letting them go crazy. He goes crazy. You mention the word “walk” and he gets so excited, there’s even a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his doggy face.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him we weren’t going for our walk. Plus, it was just a little sprinkle. A relaxing gentle rain, than sounded lovely, and left a bit of mist on my face. No big deal. I was dressed well, and surly, it wouldn’t last.

I’m well aware there’s some sort of app I can download that will tell me the exact weather for my location within a thirty minute timeframe, but I don’t have this app. Jon has mentioned this to me no less than a thousand times, but where’s the fun in that?

We started walking, and I admit, I was feeling pretty good about things. Who cared if it was raining? I wouldn’t melt. Build a bridge and get over it, right? The birds were chirping, the flowers were vivid from the rain, and there was a trickle of lime green pollen in the street. I felt like a little kid, going to jump puddles.

We were having a great time.

Until we weren’t.

It started raining hard. Really hard. And I couldn’t run, because the street was so slippery, I didn’t want to risk falling. Cars drove by, and people looked at me with pity. They didn’t stop, because who would want to give some woman dumb enough to walk her huge dog a ride in their clean, dry car? I’ll tell you… NO ONE.

We picked up the speed a bit, and happily made it home. And it was like someone pushed a button. The second I opened the garage door the rain stopped.

I was drenched, the dog smelled like he’d been bathed in a lake, and my shoes had water pouring out of them. But it didn’t matter. We were done, it was fun, and the hot shower I took afterwards never felt so good.

I hate to admit it, but maybe Jon was right about that app after all.

Finding meaning every day,

Dara