August 10. Started running with the first raindrops, seconds later soaking wet. The rain slaps so hard it almost washes my contact lenses out of my eyes. The other bank of the Hudson is invisible. In San Diego, I used to run with bare ears because I wanted to hear the sounds: the waves and the creak of my soles on the boardwalk. Here I am at home, here I listen to music, for the running cadence. I’m a little worried, having learned on Reddit that the probability of being struck by lightning is a conditional probability that increases substantially when you’re outside in a thunderstorm. I pay attention to the time between lightning and thunder, wincing when it lights up with a sharp crack right in front of me. By the time I get to the West Harlem Piers, I’m in the center. I’d rather not run out onto the metal pier right now. I hear one of the flashes, even before the thunder, as a crackle in my Bluetooth earbuds. On my way back the lightning turns silent.