Friday, September 4, 2009

How's the Weather?

I don't like to run when it's hot. I mean I reallyyyyy don't like to run when it's hot. This presents a problem from me since I live in Florida and it's almost always hot. And humid. I would rather run when it's 55 and overcast than when it's 80+ and sunny. I have lots of friends that think I'm crazy, but then that's nothing new.
A couple days ago, I was out on a short three mile run. It was 94 degrees, sunny, and I was sweating my ass off.

It's a good kind of sweat!
my friends say. I agree because it makes me feel good. When I'm done. But if I'm running farther than five miles, I start to complain.
I'm hot. Dude, it's hot. Holy cow it's hot!

So while out on my three mile jaunt I started to think about why I so detest running in the heat. I mean, I'm going to have to live with it unless I plan to move someplace like New York. Or Montana. Does anyone live there? (note: 2008 census says 967,440 wackos live in Montana)

I gave this much thought; at least as much thought as one can give during a 25 minute run. The following conclusions have been made:

1. I don't drink enough water. Anyone who knows me probably could've guessed that one. Therefore, I start every hot run already partially dehydrated. Throw in a good sweat and sun beating down, and it becomes a suck-fest.

2. Sports bras make me hot. The tight band around my rib cage bothers me and makes me feel like I'm over-heating. Honestly, I probably don't even need one anymore but modesty dictates I should wear it. Which is funny in itself because anyone who's ever trained for an endurance race knows all about peeing in the woods.

3. I've convinced myself I hate running in the heat. I am my own worst enemy. It's a mental thing that I need to get over. I know the power of thinking when it comes to this sport. If I tell myself I am uncomfortable, then of course I will be. If I tell myself it's not a big deal, then it won't be. End of story.

So if you see some chick running down the street with bouncing boobies, carrying water, and muttering, "It's not hot. It's not hot", that would be me. Give me a wave and shout of encouragement. Let me know it's a good kind of sweat.

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