Sometimes I forget that the Mid-Atlantic likes to pretend it is Florida and experiences endless summers that make walking outside feel like scuba-diving. This morning was one of those times that I forgot, and paid for it dearly as I began what was supposed to be a 9-mile jaunt around town. Alas, it was not meant to be. The first two miles felt terrible, but as Quenton Cassidy states in "Again to Carthage" (read it if you haven't already), you should never judge how a run is going until two miles in. Sure enough, after 2 miles I settled in to a nice pace and managed to forget for about a mile and a half just how similar the outside temperature was to the average furnace.
However, at mile 3.5 I realized a few things.
1. I really wanted that Chipotle burrito I was thinking of buying for lunch.
2. I was almost out of water
3. The old track and field route I was running was way less hilly than I remember (aka I used to be a wimp) 4. This whole 9-miler thing was not going to happen if I wanted any chance at placing in my age group at my triathlon tomorrow.
So, I settled for 6 miles, and kept the pace easy since with each step the mercury was rising by a degree or two. The run conveniently ended right at my car, so I got to hop right in and
speed go the speed limit all the way to Chipotle and its delicious burrito salad bowls. Then it was off to a day of minimalist-shoe shopping, running-capri and yoga-pant buying, and a nice, long, afternoon nap followed by a short freakout of
"OHMAHGOD I AM DOING MY FIRST TRIATHLON TOMORROW WHAT IF I FALLOFFMYBIKE THESWIMCOURSEISCLOSED ITTHUNDERS ICANTFUELPROPERLY."
The freakout was quickly followed by a mad dash to make a packing list... which I haven't actually looked at yet. And I have to leave at 4:15 tomorrow. So I should probably get my a into g.
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