A trot through Hell …

There comes a morning every year, usually on a Saturday, when I leave on my long run and realize … it is summer. When the cool mornings of Spring are no more. And getting that extra hour of sleep is no longer an option. Well … unless you want to melt.

This morning my intention was to leave at 6 a.m. to run my 10-miler. But according to my weather app our city would remain pretty cool and overcast until at least 9. So I figured if I left at 7 a.m. I would be done in plenty of time to beat the heat.

Ummmm, no that didn’t happen.

The second I walked outside I realized my app was wrong. Very. Very. Wrong. It was hot and muggy and the sun was already breaking through the clouds. In runner terms. I was screwed. HA!

Of course I could have gone to the gym but I didn’t want to run 10 miles on the treadmill. And I thought, really, how bad could it be? I have suffered through longer runs in worse heat. And so. I ran.

And it was … hideous.

There is something about that first HOT summer run that just sucks the life out of you. You feel like your skin is sizzling. And you are sure that the rubber on your running shoes is melting. And sweat! It’s that time of year when sweat becomes sweaty-ER. Your socks feel squishy, wet and really, REALLY gross with every step. Beads of sweat stream down from your spine all the way to your butt. Ew. You can’t avoid boob sweat … even if you are a man. You glisten in the sun and stink to new levels that probably should require a hazmat suit when others approach. You are sure every toxin you have ever eaten or inhaled is being violently expelled through your skin! You want to throw up. You question if your heart is strong enough for this crap! You curse running, running shoes and feet for that matter. You wonder why oh why is THIS what you love?!?! This is dysfunctional love at best! You realize that if running were a person a therapist would tell you to walk away!

And then … it’s over.

Your run is complete. You survived. And although you look and feel a little (a lot) war torn, you are left satisfied. You OWN that what didn’t kill you made you stronger. You wear it proud like a medal … as you drag yourself home and tell yourself that next week, you AREN’T sleeping in.

Well, I hope you all have a day where you have a nice little trot through hell!!!


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