Man, I was just reminded of my childhood neighborhood tackle (American) football experiences...
So I'm doing my morning hike and it's raining. I'm wet. Not miserable, but not happy. And it slowly starts to taper off. Then I climb over one of the hills in the park, and the ground just gives way from being wet. Everything is slick, so there's nothing to stop me, so I essentially luge down a mud hill all the way to the bottom while on my back and ass. I look down at my shorts and the leg holes are caked up with so much mud, I look like Andreas Isaksson's pants last night after having nightmares about Ronaldo coming at him.
But that's when you know you're in it, wallowing in the sludge, and things start to get fun. No resistance anymore. All self-respect and decorum?: out the window.
Great morning wake-up next to coffee.
