Oh, the joys of going out when no one dares venture outside. See, if you run along a rural canal during the rain, in some parts of the country (Chicago's far-out suburbs, for instance), you simply WILL NOT encounter people. Are they made of tissue paper? Did they just whip out ol' Ouija and begin channeling M. Night Shyamalan's Signs-lings? Rhinofellow.
So, emboldened by the visibility afforded by consecutive miles without a single curve on a canal towpath run, and certain that you won't encounter a living being anyway, you might find yourself wondering what it's like to run naked. For an added adrenaline boost, you might just cast your shorts aside instead of carrying them in hand while you complete the out and back.
Before long, you would probably be amused at how much more bounce you have (in your step)—and how much more gritty the run has become once the limestone makes its presence known in ways it never has before. You would most definitely start eying with curiosity the deer you pass, wondering whether they notice anything different about this strangely pale figure.
And all the while you would likely be laughing giddily at the sheer joy of being free in more ways than you likely ever have been before. The rain brings forth a primal force from deep within us, and if you give in under the right circumstances, the result will be beautiful.