It's October. It's Jeremy Hellickson.
It's getting colder. The recent rains left puddles -- standing pools of water -- along my running path. The humidity is ebbing away. I ran around a few puddles, but eventually I reached a point where either I had to turn around or run through the pool.
It was black like tea. It was three inches deep. It was cold and it poured into my shoes. Three miles in soaking wet shoes, but you know what? Old blisters had already turned my feet to leather.
Sometimes you move forward no matter how bad it looks.