...has been broken!
With Philadelphia going through its 5th heat wave of the summer, I have to admit that running has been a disastrous chore lately. It seemed no matter how much water I drank, how much wine I didn't drink, how early I woke up during a work week or the amount of shade I sought, the runs were miserable bordering upon straight up painful.
However, while the runners thinned, we were still out there the last 19 days, breathing heavy, soaked and sprinkler hungry (if you run early enough, you'll catch a few of these in Rittenhouse Square and on the lead-up to the art museum loop).
I'm pretty sure I came in contact with a bit of dehydration and it's partner exhaustion. When 6 miles has you couch-bound for an entire afternoon, you have to admit you may not have been prepared for the heat.
Over the last few weeks, I've questioned everything: Whether I'm actually in shape; how much I've slipped; Where my motivation went; Whether I actually enjoy running in the summer; How I'll make it through Marathon training in August; Whether I'm strong enough mentally to actually do this in November?
And then yesterday happened. Nine 9 minute miles - just like that, out of nowhere. And my questions were all answered: Yes, at 30 I could kick the 16-year-old-me's ass; I haven't slipped - in fact, mentally, I'm tough; The humidity hid my motivation - but it found its way out of the dark; I don't enjoy running and I don't dislike it either - it's who I am and as much a part of me as my heart or my feet; I'll make it through August because I have no other choice; November is my game day.
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