Well, yes, I do sing in the rain– especially when listening to the right music!
However, as devoted as I was in the beginning to walking rain or shine, I’ve found the need to evolve the practical application of such devotion.
First off: the rain that keeps the Pacific Northwest so gleefully green is typically just a light, never-ending drizzle. Despite the fact that we get rained on the majority of the year, many of us who spend our lives in the PacNW don’t even own umbrellas.
These thunderstorms that I’ve been experiencing here in the South, however, are a much different story. They’re downright scary. On the 22-mile day in which I walked from Cross Plains to Lake Brownwood, Texas, I was so fortunate to receive some form of shelter, and to have timed the day’s walk when I did– for not too long after I finished walking for the day, we were receiving severe thunderstorm warnings from the National Weather Service: “be on the lookout for a tornado and tennis ball size hail.” As it turned out, golf-ball-size hail hammered the very path I walked to Lake Brownwood earlier in the day, and just three miles down the lake, softball-size hail dropped from the sky. The hail from this storm ended up crashing through skylights in a nearby mall, and shattering car windshields across a span of miles.
I’m told the hail doesn’t get that large here; however, I still have no interest in being out in even the dime-size hail that may fall around here.

To add to this, walking alongside major highways, while still doable, definitely becomes more hazardous in the rain.

Also, something I’ve learned from experience: when I walk for hours in the rain, my glasses steam up and I can no longer see through them!

The family-owned Wayfarer Hotel is awaiting my arrival in Monroe–20 miles from here– and has even contacted local schools for potential speaking appearance(s) from me. Given today’s soggy forecast, I don’t see myself making it to Monroe. Loganville is probably the furthest I’ll get– not even halfway to Monroe– but definitely some form of “progress,” provided I can find the right break between the storm cells.