Photo by Jeff Finley on Unsplash

“…I don’t just wish you rain, Beloved — I wish you the beauty of storms…”
― John Geddes

About a mile and a half from the trailhead where my car was, I got caught in a storm. It was cloudy all day, but the weather wasn’t calling for rain for a few more hours. As many runners often mistakenly do, I thought I had plenty of time to get in my run. Unfortunately, Mother Nature didn’t pay attention to the forecast and decided she needed to show up a couple of hours early.

It was one of those cold, sideways, between sleet and hail type of storms, and windy in the way that blows over semi-trucks on those flat, open plains. I was soaked within a minute, my shoes and socks sloshing as I tried to not trip on the rocky downhill.

With about a mile left, I took a quick break in the snake tunnel, a pedestrian passageway under Interstate 10. The rain was coming down hard, and I had to decide to go for it or wait it out. I had no idea about the forecast and whether it would worsen or let up, but it didn’t matter. The rain was there — no need to check if something was already happening.

Years ago, I would’ve waited. I would’ve stayed in that tunnel until the rain and wind stopped or slowed down enough that I felt it was safer. And maybe I should’ve stayed this time.

But I went for it. I ran into the pouring, windy, sideways, chilly rain. If only briefly, I was a child again. I was on an adventure, soaked to the bone, and loving every single minute of it.

The snake tunnel that passes under Interstate 10 — part of the Arizona Trail. Photo by author.

I live in the Sonoran Desert where the average rainfall per year is only 12 inches. The majority of rain (40–50%) comes during monsoon season, which officially runs from mid-June until the end of September.

The Sonoran Desert covers 120,000 square miles (310,800 sq km) spanning Mexico, California, and Arizona. It’s diverse and is “home to at least 60 species of mammals, more than 350 bird…