It’s summer. And I know. This past winter was OFF THE CHAIN cold. I remember being in the throes of it, wishing for a sip of sunshine. That’s just it. I wanted the sunshine in sips. Small doses. I didn’t want to shotgun the sunshine. Or funnel it circa 1994 Spring Weekend Party at Brick House. I wanted to sip it. Casually. In moderation. You know, ease into summer. Like all runners should. Wouldn’t that have been nice?
What happened instead was a sufferfest that lasted all damn week, turned my runs into slop, and made me nauseous. Damn. Just when I felt I was really rolling. A Running Meltdown. I know. I’ll suck it up. I’ve got no choice. But man, that initial heat wave was BRUTAL. It just sucks every damn ounce of life out of me. I am horrible at running in temperatures over 80 degrees. At least initially. I totally suck at it. Camel, I am not. I am hoping and praying that with a little acclimation, I turn into Helios, and laugh right in the sun’s bright, hot, fat face. Until then, I’m running alongside the Stuggle Bus. Here’s how the week went:
Monday: 5+ mile run at lunch.The elusive run at lunch, or “runch” as all the cool kids say. Not incredibly hot, just incredibly wet. I got caught in a down pour. And in a
stupid stealth move, this happened:
Yup. I found a discarded plastic “baggie” in a super seedy section of town by my work, turned that bitch inside out, ignored suspicious residue and saved my phone. And I’d totally do it again.
Tuesday: 7 miles +. Intervals. Treadmill. 12 X 400m, 400m recovery. Plus warm up. Plus cool down. Plus exhaustion. But, I did them. Then almost blew it by eating gelato for breakfast.Wednesday: REST. I took my rest day seriously. Drunk Otis and I went for a walk. It was OPPRESSIVE. Thursday: 5 miles. Was supposed to be 6 miles. Bad Colby. Got nauseous and light headed. Cursed the heavens. Did manage to run at my prescribed pace, but nearly melted in the process. Ended run in a damn heap.
Note: I should have known I was going to spontaneously combust on Thursday. Especially since I started the day all fired up with the #TimHunt “girl-scientists-are-blubbering-temptresses-and-should-work-in-segregated-labs” bullshit.
Stop. Just stop.
Friday: 5 miles. Was supposed to be 6 miles. Bad Colby. Again. Packed black t-shirt, black shorts, black hat. Died 1,000 deaths. Did not get nauseous. Progress. Did however consume shaker of salt the moment I staggered in the door. Checked weather app before run and this is what I got. (P.S. The actual temp was 86. Liar.)
Saturday: 6.2 mile trail race. This was the second race in that Trail 2 Trail Series I ran a month ago. Such a great race series. If you’re in the Northeast- check ’em out. I ran. I sweated. I got lost. I had a goddamn blast. I love trail races! Although I am quite certain I left with malaria. And a tick borne disease. In a very happy twist, I managed to come in 2nd in my age group and consumed a small watermelon at the finish. YES!Sunday: 20 mile bike ride at break neck speed. I rode with My Other Half. Which means, I rode a Stage of the Tour. You pretty much know you are screwed when you look at your bike computer and think to yourself: Huh. Check me out! I’m riding well! 25mph. Lookit me go! Then you glance back up and realize you got dropped LIKE YOU WERE STANDING STILL by your Beloved. He turned the screws on my tired ass. And dropped me like a hot, sweaty potato. Agony. Total miles run: Just shy of 30.
Total miles biked: 20. They were a blur.
Gallons of sweat lost: 6.
How long does it take you to get accustomed to running in the heat? Hot weather runner or cold weather runner? How do you hydrate during long runs: hydration vest, hand held or plant water bottles?