I got in my car yesterday afternoon after my run and this is what I saw:
No friends, you haven’t just spontaneously formed a severe case of dyslexia. That number is for reals eighty-two–NOT the twenty-eight that I have become all too accustomed to seeing this winter. (You’re not dyslexic, but you are hallucinating. The dust you see in the picture is just a figment of your imagination. My car is spotless. No dust or dog hair whatsoever. Not even a dirty paw print on the black leather seat.)
I almost forgot what it was like to run in the heat. The sweat-inducing, clothes-drenching, hair-kinking, lung-squeezing, pace-destroying heat.
I set out to do five miles, but at the 4.5-mile mark I was oh-so-conveniently about 100 yards from my car, and I could hear my Gatorade calling my name, sitting there in the driver’s seat waiting for me. Who am I to keep a cold plastic bottle waiting? So I cut the five miles just a tad short.
What???? It was just a half mile!!!! GET OFF MY ASS!!!
Aaaaaaaahhhh, spring. 🙂