Welsh rain and the myth of perfect conditions
When I first moved to Cardiff, I checked the forecast before every run and postponed whenever it looked grim. After a few weeks I noticed I had postponed most of them. Wales is not a country that rewards waiting for the sky to cooperate.
The forecast is information, not permission.
Conditions are never ideal
Rain in Wales is less an event than a setting. Once I accepted that, a good waterproof and a slightly lower standard for comfort changed everything. The run I actually do in drizzle beats the perfect run I keep planning for Saturday.
Most of the projects I have left unfinished were waiting for similar conditions: more time, a clearer idea, a better week. They never arrived, because they are not the kind of thing that arrives.
Small, regular, slightly damp
The habits that stuck were the ones I made smaller than seemed worthwhile. Twenty minutes instead of an hour. One paragraph instead of an essay. One experiment instead of a whole study plan. Small enough that bad weather, literal or otherwise, wasn't an excuse.
And occasionally the rain stops halfway round, the light comes through over the Bristol Channel, and you get the reward that only people who started anyway get to see.