April 29, 2007 | Filed under: I Run Therefore I Am
Did you know that running in 82 degree weather is different than running in 62 degree weather? I’m here to tell you that it is. It is different. And it is different in this way: 82 degrees? Is hot. Especially when you’re running on the sunny side of the street and the asphalt is blasting up at you the heat of a thousand furnaces that it’s been storing all day. Hot.
I recently bought new headphones for my iPod. They were recommended by Sundry, and, well, I do everything The Internet tells me to. I must have defective ears, or perhaps these weren’t designed with running in mind, because less than three minutes into my run, I gave up. Constantly sticking them back in my ears just to have them fall out again two steps later was not working for me. So I ran the damn five miles with no entertainment except what my brain could come up with. I thought about lots of things for this here blog, about 6% of which will ever actually be written and posted; ruminated on some of last week’s shit, which is always a frightening prospect; and, in the final coup de grace of randomness, around mile 4, my brain decided to sing My Sharona. A song whose lyrics I know fewer than half of, and which I have not owned, and perhaps haven’t heard, since Napster was my music download source of choice, back when downloading music from Napster was not yet illegal. (I have now looked at the lyrics. Oh my hell.)
All that to say, my run Thursday was hot. And music-deprived. And not very much fun. I was dehydrated most of the time (woo! let’s hear it for not carrying water with us when we run!). I walked more frequently and for longer than usual. I hurt more. Overall, it sucked. And given that this was only 9 days before Race Day, I did not need a workout that sucked. I needed a workout that said, “I can totally do this.” My Thursday workout said, “Why are we doing this, again?” Argh.
The good news is, the race starts at like 8 AM (8:30? I don’t know. Guess I should figure that out, huh?), so it should be relatively cool next Saturday. The bad news is, if I run anything like I did on Thursday, I’ll still be running at noon, by which time it will definitely be hot.
Saturday’s run, however, was much better. Primarily because I ran right around the time the sun was coming up, so it wasn’t 82 out yet. Also, I switched back to the iPod earbuds. No, they’re not the most comfortable things in the world, but at least they stay in place most of the time and I don’t have to sing songs to myself from the 1970s. Another factor that made Saturday’s run better — actually bringing water with me. In fact, I totally dorked out and bought a running belt thingy-jig.
Fun little side-story: the purchase of this water hydration system, coupled with my need for some delicious gels, took me to my local running store, where I was helped by someone who can only be described as hot. Or, perhaps, HOTT. (Why yes, he did have brown hair and brown eyes. Why do you ask?) Too bad I knew exactly what I was looking for. (”Um, some gel…anything that’s not gross? And, uh, a water thing.”)
While it’s lovely to have constant access to water, this thing still annoys the crap out of me. For starters, it requires one to carry any additional three pounds around one’s waist. People, I am already carrying an extra five pounds around my waist, which is part of why I run in the first place. I do not need any more! In addition, the belt nature of this hydration system serves to squish those five extra waist pounds up into an unsightly roll over the top of the belt. Really, I could do without that aesthetic. I mean, it’s one thing for me to know about those extra five pounds, but it’s quite another to show them off to everyone else on the trail. (Yes, I’m vain enough to care what I look like when I’m working out. Shut up.) But, I guess I will just deal with this. I kinda like being hydrated.
Apparently my legs enjoy this hydration thing, too, because I was running 11-minute miles for the entire 8 mile workout. The whole time I was thinking, “Too! Fast! Must! Slow! Down!” but each subsequent mile was still in the 11-minute range. This has me seriously concerned for Saturday. I need to set a personal best for distance, not for speed. 11-minute miles for better than 13 miles? I’m not sure I’m up for that. But that kind of pace guarantees I’d be done running before it’s 82 out.
Posted by Daily Tragedies @ 7:14 pm | Make a Comment
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Ma ma ma myyyy Sherona. Have to admit that I love that song, but never even thought to upload it to my MP3. It’s on the Reality Bites soundtrack, funny enough, which I happen to own. In case you want to rip it…
Girl, I know you can do it. You did 12, you can do the 13.1. Just try to start slow…
April 29th, 2007 at 7:35 pm…oh, and also? Because the internet told you so.
April 29th, 2007 at 7:37 pm