Training in the Rain, Thinking About …

What most people do? It’s recreation. And to be honest, that’s what I call my training these days too — a return to consistent movement, to a state where the training volume is finally big enough to even consider pushing into more structured goals. Racing, improving performance in my age group, or simply getting to a place where the satisfaction comes not just from ticking boxes but from knowing that I’ve earned something.

There are so many trends flying around again. The same cycles keep repeating. People still obsess about diet, a bit of mobility here and there, biomechanics buzzwords, and of course — nutrition fads. Carbs for endurance, protein for hypertrophy. The basics stay the same but get dressed up in new hashtags.

What’s starting to hit harder now is this growing awareness that strength training — especially after a certain age — isn’t just about getting stronger. It’s prehab. It’s life maintenance. Two full-body strength sessions a week isn’t optional anymore if you want to function like a healthy, resilient man.

Without it? You sit all day in an office chair, barely move except to grab a coffee or some sugar-laced junk from a vending machine. You eat a heavy lunch, drag yourself home, pray your grown-up kids don’t call, flip on the TV, and wait for the day to end. That’s not living — that’s dissolving.

But if you’ve kept muscle on your frame, if your system is tuned, if your VO2 max hasn’t fallen off a cliff, then you’re still in the game. You can take long walks, move freely, keep up with your kids — or grandkids. You can do things. That’s the point.

So yeah, this post turned into a long one, but I prefer that. Better than forcing myself to post meaningless updates. If I’m going to be back on Instagram, it’s for a reason — to show up, day by day, to share moments that carry some kind of value. Not just workout screenshots.

This morning’s training gave me something to think about. First time back in a real rhythm after a two-week break. Alarm, movement, fresh air, a real breakfast — in the car before 8 a.m., while others are still waking up. But it was raining, the forest was muddy, and silent. No birds. No people. Even the usual dogs weren’t barking.

That’s when it hit me again — when everything’s easy, everyone shows up. When the sun is out, trails are full. But throw in a bit of discomfort — rain, mud, cold — and the crowd thins out fast. For those of us who enjoy the mud, the solitude, the hard stuff… this is where the real work happens. This is where boredom dies, and satisfaction builds. Because race day doesn’t care about the weather. The event will happen with or without you — your only choice is how prepared you’ll be.

And let me circle back to something my wife said. She’s out walking the Camino and said her favorite part was actually the start — the remote, wild parts where nature was raw and there were fewer people. The closer she got to Santiago, the more it turned into a crowded, noisy tourist path. Same story again: the easier and more commercial it gets, the more people show up.

So if you find yourself alone on the trail, in the gym before dawn, running through rain while others sleep — you’re in the right place. This isn’t for everyone. And that’s exactly the point.

Keep going.