Fear #275

In the months before Russ and I married in March 1995, I made the de rigueur visit to Dillard's to register for our China (note to brides-to-be: I registered and received 8 place settings of China that I have never ever, never ever, never ever used...).

It was a Saturday and they were busy, so I took a seat next to another bride-to-be, and we started a conversation. We talked about our grooms-to-be, how we met, the stress of planning a wedding, etc. She and her fiance were getting married the same weekend as Russ and me. It was a nice way to spend a fairly lengthy wait.

Fast-forward to May 1995, we ran a brief story in the newspaper about a man who had been mowing his lawn and died after being struck by lightning. I read it and moved on.

Then the next day, I read the obituary -- it was the husband of that bride.

That incident, which took place almost 17 years ago, instilled in me a healthy fear of lightning. Not that I ever was going to go outside in a severe storm, holding a stick of metal of anything, but until that happened, I didn't really think about lightning.

(Side note, while I"m thinking about it: Don't say "electrocuted to death." Electrocution by its very definition means "death by electric shock." Thank you.)

It was lightning this morning when I headed out for my run.

So I ditched the iPod.

And I ran like hell. I guess I thought if I finished my run in less time, then I wouldn't get struck by lightning. I guess I thought I could outrun it.

I told myself I had to do two miles. So I did that. Then I told myself I had to do two more. I had convinced myself that it would be OK to run my full six miles when the lightning got a little too close.

So I did five and called it a morning. I plan on going back out tonight and running three or so more.