It is hot as hell here in lovely Iowa today, and the summer is just beginning. Okay, it’s not actually hot as hell – it’s really quite perfect, if you ask anyone except for the cats who have the double misfortune of thick coats and an owner who will not turn on the AC until there is actual melting. It’s mid-80s but breezy, sunny, barely a cloud in the sky. GORGEOUS.
Gorgeous at least until I decided to go for a run. At 2PM in the afternoon. When, quite frankly, I’m really not in much shape for running. Anyway off I went and through willpower along managed to make the first mile without stopping. But then I stopped, see, because I thought that I was going to die, as a result of the combination of my running and the sun and heat. And then, I walked, somewhat briskly, mostly because I thought that if I didn’t find some shade I would pass out. Where I run (um, and in iowa generally, more or less) there are neither trees nor buildings, really, and it was another mile of walking before I found a cool spot…that wasn’t that cool actually. And after a mile of running* and another mile of walking my heartrate was still sky high.
And then I remembered the dog days in summer during high school and how my favorite thing in the world to do was go play tennis for hours on end during the hottest time of the day, and the fact that I am old and out of shape slapped me upside the head with quite some force.
It’s going to be a long, humid summer.
* By “running”, I mean jogging, only slower. I just think “running” sounds a little more bad-ass and optimistic.