Heat, Humidity and Other Hellish Tales
The other day I was talking to a friend of mine in Michigan, who used to live in Florida. She was asking how the weather has been here, so I started regaling her with the horrific details of record breaking temps and suffocating humidity, when I stopped short and said - you know, it's been like Florida. Except, you know, not. Indeed, there's no Siesta Key here, no South Beach, and definitely no Disney World. All the pain, none of the perks.
Yeah, yeah...what am I griping about really? I have a cushy desk job, and AC conditioning me almost everywhere I go. The catch has been this marathon training that, somehow, I signed up for. The past six weeks have been some of the most brutal temps I've experienced living in Kentucky. It has ominously coincided with the most fierce and intense part of my training. Lucky me.
The number one thing that's gotten me thru is the constant reassurance from myself to me that the worse it is now, the better/easier/less hellish it'll be at the actual race in October. I've been running at odd times - early in the morning and after sunset - in an attempt to miss the sun's brute force. It really hasn't mattered, however, and I've become accustomed to returning home as wet as if I'd been running thru sprinklers. If only that was really the case. I've also started to listen to audio books and podcasts while I run, rather than just music, in an effort to keep my mind more distracted from how miserable I am. I haven't even changed any of the music on my Shuffle most of the summer. Of course, why I should I? On there are some of my favorite running songs of all time. Not always for being upbeat and loud, but oftentimes for their sheer likeability or lyrics which always manage to inspire.
I read an article once, probably in Runner's World, and the author talked about there being two days of the year that runners absolutely love. One is in early spring, and it's that first perfectly warm day, when you can't wait to put your shoes on and go out for run. It's all you think about at work. The sun is shining, and you know you won't have to worry about being cold - or hot - you'll just run with the mild breeze at your back, hope springing forth for all the lovely days to come. The second day is similar, but takes place on the reverse end of the calendar. There's a point when summer's infernal grip, which has remained steadfast and secure, starts to slip just a little bit, and you know there's an end in sight.
I realized as I drove home today with the windows down, not already sweating through my work clothes, that today was that day. It's hardly fall out there. It's only August 31st and as I've been reminding people who keep asking how my summer was, we've still got almost a month of it left. And yet, the breeze felt cool and the humidity seemed non-existent. I definitely didn't have to run today. I have 17 miles scheduled for 6 AM tomorrow morning - a feat which will take me no less than 3 hours to complete. Any normal Friday, and this called for a night off to rest up. But not today. Today beckoned. Figuring that 3 easy miles couldn't hurt, I headed out the door to a welcomed 70 degrees and low humidity. It wasn't a perfect run, by any stretch. I had a nagging dull pain in my left shin, that had me wondering and worrying a bit about tomorrow morning. But for all intents and purposes, I didn't care. For the first time in a long time, people were out walking their dogs and happily waving to me as if they'd just be released from their own personal prison. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't meticulously picking off the miles like some laborious to do list, thinking about how quickly I could drive the same distance. For the first time in a long time, I could have run for a good long while longer than what I set out to do.
But, for the first time in a long time, it was nice not to have to.
The other day I was talking to a friend of mine in Michigan, who used to live in Florida. She was asking how the weather has been here, so I started regaling her with the horrific details of record breaking temps and suffocating humidity, when I stopped short and said - you know, it's been like Florida. Except, you know, not. Indeed, there's no Siesta Key here, no South Beach, and definitely no Disney World. All the pain, none of the perks.
Yeah, yeah...what am I griping about really? I have a cushy desk job, and AC conditioning me almost everywhere I go. The catch has been this marathon training that, somehow, I signed up for. The past six weeks have been some of the most brutal temps I've experienced living in Kentucky. It has ominously coincided with the most fierce and intense part of my training. Lucky me.
The number one thing that's gotten me thru is the constant reassurance from myself to me that the worse it is now, the better/easier/less hellish it'll be at the actual race in October. I've been running at odd times - early in the morning and after sunset - in an attempt to miss the sun's brute force. It really hasn't mattered, however, and I've become accustomed to returning home as wet as if I'd been running thru sprinklers. If only that was really the case. I've also started to listen to audio books and podcasts while I run, rather than just music, in an effort to keep my mind more distracted from how miserable I am. I haven't even changed any of the music on my Shuffle most of the summer. Of course, why I should I? On there are some of my favorite running songs of all time. Not always for being upbeat and loud, but oftentimes for their sheer likeability or lyrics which always manage to inspire.
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo
- Lose Yourself, Eminem
If I just breathe, let it fill the space in between,
I'll know everything is alright
Breathe, every little piece of me
You'll see everything is alright, if I just breathe
- Breathe, Michelle Branch
Into marvelous light I'm running,
Out of darkness, out of shame.
My dead heart now is beating,
My deepest stains now clean.
Your breath fills up my lungs.
Now I'm free. now I'm free!
- Marvelous Light, Charlie Hall
Move along, move along like I know you do
And even when your hope is gone
Move along, move along just to make it through
- Move Along, All-American Rejects
I read an article once, probably in Runner's World, and the author talked about there being two days of the year that runners absolutely love. One is in early spring, and it's that first perfectly warm day, when you can't wait to put your shoes on and go out for run. It's all you think about at work. The sun is shining, and you know you won't have to worry about being cold - or hot - you'll just run with the mild breeze at your back, hope springing forth for all the lovely days to come. The second day is similar, but takes place on the reverse end of the calendar. There's a point when summer's infernal grip, which has remained steadfast and secure, starts to slip just a little bit, and you know there's an end in sight.
I realized as I drove home today with the windows down, not already sweating through my work clothes, that today was that day. It's hardly fall out there. It's only August 31st and as I've been reminding people who keep asking how my summer was, we've still got almost a month of it left. And yet, the breeze felt cool and the humidity seemed non-existent. I definitely didn't have to run today. I have 17 miles scheduled for 6 AM tomorrow morning - a feat which will take me no less than 3 hours to complete. Any normal Friday, and this called for a night off to rest up. But not today. Today beckoned. Figuring that 3 easy miles couldn't hurt, I headed out the door to a welcomed 70 degrees and low humidity. It wasn't a perfect run, by any stretch. I had a nagging dull pain in my left shin, that had me wondering and worrying a bit about tomorrow morning. But for all intents and purposes, I didn't care. For the first time in a long time, people were out walking their dogs and happily waving to me as if they'd just be released from their own personal prison. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't meticulously picking off the miles like some laborious to do list, thinking about how quickly I could drive the same distance. For the first time in a long time, I could have run for a good long while longer than what I set out to do.
But, for the first time in a long time, it was nice not to have to.
