About a mile into my jog tonight, when I had a view of the southwestern sky, I saw a thunderstorm approaching. Occasionally, lightning would flash, and the closer the storm came, the closer I hugged the tree-lined sides of the streets. The lighting won’t hit me, I reassured myself, it’s still miles away; besides, I’m not doing anything stupid such as holding a 9-iron above my head or crouching beside a lone tree on a hill. I did wonder if my shoes might make me build a positive charge and turn me into an attractor, but I put that worry out of mind. Do the right thing, I thought, and nobody gets hurt. Then, nearly home, a bolt flashed directly overhead. The thunder was instantaneous, loud, and rolling, and it surprised me so much I jumped. Suddenly, I laughed. Lightning doesn’t weed out the stupid from the smart; it is what it is, randomness made real. Everything I had been telling myself was absurd.

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