
In the beginning of October for the past four years, I've hopped on the
Victoria Clipper at the Seattle waterfront, and headed to the island capital of British Columbia. For the past four years, I've lined up in the early morning of that October weekend with several thousand other runners to enjoy 13.1 miles of a thoroughly pleasant half marathon. The weekend has become a very special ritual, which includes a stay at the funky
Ocean Island Hostel, a visit to
The Wine Barrel for my annual stock of the extremely rare Ice Merlot, and melancholy memories of the good times running the race with my ex-girlfriend (before she was my ex). Unlike previous years, I wear this year's race shirt and bib as a badge of shame, because I am a fair-weather runner. Although Saturday was a beautiful Autumn day, perfect for running, Sunday was cold, rainy and miserable. As much as I really, really wanted to add that metal to my collection, I couldn't get motivated to do the race in the rain. Having run a full marathon in a torrential downpour, I can do without another experience involving bloody socks and chafing. I can respect the people that run races in the rain, but I don't envy them.
I'll return for next year's race with my fingers crossed in hopes of good weather.