In which I am inducted into the Secret Society of the Reckless Adventurer

So its been a bit rainy in California lately. Actually, that's something of an understatement. Its been pouring torrentially on and off since Sunday, and I've been going a little stir crazy.
Today I decided damn the weather, I'm going hiking. While it has been raining/hailing for three days, its fairly on and off, and I figured if I could time it right, I could dodge the downpour and make it, with little to no rain.
As I drove up it began to sprinkle and I noticed some ominous clouds on the horizon, but nothing seemed to be too bad, so I parked and walked through the gate. At the ranger station, a woman stopped me.
"Do you know if there's going to be thunder today?"
Now truthfully, I had no idea, and didn't even know how one would know such a thing without the weather section handy. But clearly, this woman had identified me as something of a wilderness expert, and I was not going to be the one to set her straight.
"Oh probably," I lied, looking at the sky in what I hoped was a knowing way.
"And you're still going to go?" She said, and I nodded, trying to come across as somewhat dangerous. "Well I think I'm going to turn back, I don't want to get caught at the top of the hill if there's going to be lightning." As a matter of fact, neither did I, and truthfully I hadn't thought of that possibility, but by this point I couldn't turn back and jeopardize my new-found reputation as a weather-reading adventurer, so I turned and headed up the hill.
It started to drizzle as I began my ascent, but I was still riding high on my new, albeit false credentials. Despite the weather, visibility was good, and when I reached the top of the first hill, I could see all the way across the bay. Also, apparently the possibility of being struck by lightning had frightened away other, less-hardy, hikers, and I had the trail almost to myself. Just before I hit the crest of the hill, I saw my first lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder. My joy at having my prediction justified was slightly dampened by my fear of being electrocuted, but I pressed on. The wind began to pick up, and soon it began to pour. I put up my hood just as it began to hail, stinging my legs and face. My nose began to run with a vengeance and I inadvertently snorted a hailstone which judging by the sensation, lodged somewhere in my brain. The wind blew the rain all over the trail and seemed to do its darndest to shove me into the brush. I was completely soaked, and watched my shoes fill completely with water.
Through the wind and rain, the occasional fellow adventurer would approach, coming the opposite direction on the loop trail. As we passed each other, we exchanged grim smiles, with our hands up an exaggerated "ohh well" gesture, or gave each other the thumbs up, shouting encouragement that was borne away by the wind the second it left our mouths. I only passed about four people, but every time there was some sort of interaction. My exposure-addled mind began to roam as I trudged along through the deluge. I saw myself and my fellow hikers as secret society of adventurers, who couldn't be penned in by silly things like "rain" or "driving hailstones." We would have our meetings in an underground bunker, or an abandoned boxcar, and speak exclusively about our extremeness.
Right about as I was mentally designing our crest and secret knock, an opening appeared in the clouds and the sun began to shine through, saving me from my deranged ramblings. The rain began to abate, and (I'm not kidding) a rainbow became visible. I'm not saying that God came down to give me a high five for being reckless adventurer, but if He did, it probably would have looked something like that.