Raindrops Are Falling on My Head

Over the years, running in the rain has taught me more than I ever expected. It’s not just about braving the elements or checking off a workout on a soggy calendar. It’s about showing up when everything around you says, “maybe not today.” There’s a quiet kind of strength in lacing up when others stay home. Each rainy run has turned into its own little act of defiance—and a lesson in mental resilience I carry with me into races, tough training blocks, and even everyday life.

There’s also something uniquely peaceful about it. When the skies open up, the world slows down. Trails empty. Traffic thins. The usual city noise is replaced by the hush of rainfall, broken only by the rhythm of my own footsteps. It’s a kind of solitude that’s hard to find on sunny afternoons.

And on warm days? Rain can feel like a gift. The cooler air and the steady drizzle help regulate my body temperature. My pace, which is never particularly fast, feels smoother without the heat dragging me down. The drops tap against my cap in a steady rhythm, and before I know it, the miles start to blend together in the best way.

But rainy runs aren’t carefree. They come with their own set of rules—ones I’ve learned through soaked shoes, near slips, and the occasional miserable slog home.

1. Wear the right gear.

Not all running clothes are made for wet weather. Cotton is a mistake—it holds water and clings to your skin. I stick to moisture-wicking, quick-dry fabrics, and always add a lightweight, breathable rain jacket when it’s more than a drizzle. A cap with a brim is non-negotiable—it keeps the rain out of my eyes and helps me see where I’m going. If it’s cold, I add a thin base layer or gloves.

And then there’s visibility. Rain makes everything look gray and dull—even in daylight. I wear bright colors or reflective gear, especially if I’ll be near roads. Cars have a harder time seeing runners when visibility drops, and I’d rather look like a neon highlighter than blend into the background.

2. Take care of your shoes.

Running shoes don’t love the rain. Water breaks down the materials faster, and once soaked, they need time to dry properly. I keep a second pair in rotation and never leave wet shoes in a heap. I stuff them with newspaper and set them somewhere dry, never on a heater. Sometimes I’ll even use an old pair for rainy runs to preserve my good ones for race day.

And don’t overlook traction. If your soles are worn down, you’ll feel it on slick pavement. Wet leaves and painted crosswalks become little hazard zones.

3. Avoid risky conditions.

Rain is one thing. Thunderstorms are another. The moment I hear thunder or see lightning, the run is off. It’s just not worth it. Lightning is unpredictable and dangerous—especially if you’re out in the open or, worse, running near trees or tall poles. That quick shelter under a big branch? Not where you want to be in a storm.

Flooded streets, strong winds, and freezing rain also fall into the “no-go” category for me. I’ve learned to check the weather before I head out and not to convince myself it’ll be fine if it clearly isn’t. Safety always comes first—rainy day joy shouldn’t come with a trip to the ER.

4. Adjust your expectations.

Rainy runs are rarely about pace or precision. I treat them as effort runs. Sometimes I shorten the distance, slow things down, or even change my route to avoid hills or traffic. The focus shifts from performance to presence—just being out there and getting it done.

I also give myself permission to call it early if the conditions change. There’s no pride in gutting out a dangerous run.

5. Embrace the recovery.

Rain takes more out of me than I sometimes realize. Cold water, wet gear, and tighter muscles from bracing against the chill can all leave a mark. After a rainy run, I change into dry clothes immediately—even if I’m not that cold yet. A warm drink, a hot shower, and a little extra stretching go a long way toward staying healthy and avoiding post-run chills.

So yes, I love running in the rain. It’s not always comfortable, but it’s always memorable. With the right preparation, even a downpour becomes part of the experience—not something to avoid, but something to dance through. These runs have taught me to be prepared, to respect the elements, and to find joy in the unexpected.

Some days, when I hear the patter of rain against the window, I don’t groan—I smile. Because I know that out there, waiting for me, is a quieter road, a cooler breeze, and a little adventure that starts with the first wet step.