Rain Check

At the last minute, my daughters and I made a unanimous executive decision to blow off the breast cancer walk. Not even the idea of an activity for our favorite charity could lure us out of the car and into the heavy rain for a three and a half mile soggy and cold trek.

Twenty minutes later, lying back in bed, still clad in layers of pink and my running shoes, I was feeling a little bit wimpy. Every day, women across the globe suffer the pain and emotional turmoil of breast cancer, and I couldn't handle a little precipitation. I certainly didn't deserve to be wearing the shirt with the image of a tough babe flashing her bulging bicep.

I beat myself up all day about it, particularly when the sun began to peek through and I realized the walk may have been quite bearable, at least halfway through. I rarely pass up an opportunity to beat myself up, and this seemed as good a reason as any. I did, however, hope my daughters were cutting themselves a bit of slack. Really, who in her right mind would want to walk at the crack of dawn in a deluge if she didn't really have to. I applauded their intelligence.

So much for working on self love and all that crap. Face it, sometimes you just need a little help from the outside. And, sometimes, when you most need it, it appears. In the middle of the night, I received a series of emails from a friend I had met this summer on my girls' weekend away, a fellow writer and yogi. Her insomnia had led her back to my blog (it was either that or laundry), and she was enjoying it, even feeling moved by some of the posts. Her compliments lifted my spirits, opened my eyes to the brighter side of things. And hearing about someone enjoying my writing because of insomnia certainly beats hearing that it's just a time killer for someone on the toilet. When I start looking at the bright side, there's no stopping me.

I had considered giving away the shirt with the tough broad on it, to someone more worthy. But I'm over that. Sure, into each life a little rain must fall, but that doesn't mean you have to walk three and a half miles in it.