Way back in January, it was easy to think about smokin' hot summer days. I'd imagine the sun, the heat, the humidity, in an attempt to make the bitter cold more bearable. "In August, you'll wish for a day like today", I'd tell myself, through chapped lips and shuttering teeth.
I like to think I have a pretty good imagination, but what I pictured during the winter didn't compare to what I'm running in this week.
For example, it didn't occur to me that just by stepping outside my head would feel like a Jiffy-Pop.
Doesn't help that I've got a low-grade fever, a little souvenir of the extended time The Duke and I spent together a couple weeks ago.
Faced with a Can't-miss-it meeting I knew I was going in to the office. The evening was kid-time. It wasn't going to get any cooler. So I went straight from bed to running gear, with a short side trip to the bathroom for a handful of ibuprofen.
I wasn't fully awake. My legs were stiff and sluggish. Still, at least it would be cool outside.
80+ degrees and somewhere around 120% humidity.
Did I mention I was running a fever?
Again... as miserable as it was, it wasn't going to get any better.
The first half mile was slow. Painfully slow.
Yet despite the conditions, and my condition, eventually, things loosened up, my stride opened up, and by the turn around, I was running smooth and steady.
The human body is pretty amazing. Virus and sauna be damned, it found it's groove.
Now if we can just get those antibodies to step up a bit.
And a Canadian front to move through.
Numbers: 1.4 miles on the usual emergency run route with grass and trail.