When it was the deepest days of cold winter the only excuse I ever really gave for not running was the lack of a sidewalk for fresh snow. Those Saturday nights when we were graced with heavy white drifts measured in multiples of inches on the paths made a leisurely Sunday morning jog close to impossible, if not only for my improvised running attire, then for the sake of not being able to back out of the driveway with the car to get to the starting line.
It is first of July, Canada Day, and a Tuesday. That means, in respect to the fact of work tomorrow, we did our over-exertions yesterday. And not only did I weed the garden and take the family to Fort Edmonton Park for a couple hours in the blistering heat, but I faithfully attended my weekly running clinic and jogged a painful four kilometers in thirty-one degrees of Celsius-certified heat.
I was nourished and hydrated, but still…
I couldn’t help but comment to one of my running companions that it was the original purpose of my running adventures to sign up for the deep, dark days of winter clinic so that running in summer wouldn’t seem so bad. My logic ruled that, well, everyone ran in the summer so it must be easy, right? Ok. Easier. Unfortunately, on days such as yesterday, sweating with abundance in the humid heat, such logic fails miserably.