It's Not the Heat...

It's the humidity.  I forget, every year.  In the winter, when I'm out running in my hat, gloves, and many layers, humidity seems like a distant memory.  Then spring blossoms, and I enjoy 70 degree optimum running conditions that seem neverending.  But then, one day, it hits.  That day, temps soar up over 85 and the air is bulging with moisture that cannot be seen but definitely can be felt. 

Running in the heat and humidity is hard.  No two ways about it.  All energy is instantly zapped from you; your legs feel like lead, your lungs as shallow as the gene pool of one of those reality show families with 25 kids, and your muscles feel like you just may have been on a space shuttle for the last month.  Occasionally, when these days strike, I can run through it. The end may not be pretty, but I can get the job done. 

On the first hot and humid day this year, however, it was not to be.  I started out with such high expectations.  I was going to run hills, and I was going to run 6 miles.  That was the plan anyway.  I started out and immediately noticed that it was pretty windy. Okay, really windy.  Usually when it's humid, a wind is helpful.  But the rain hadn't been gone long enough for the wind to be a good thing. At the start of my run it was behind me, and as I turned to start mile 2, it became a sort of sideways annoyance.  I wasn't particularly concerned about it until I turned to start mile three.  Yes, mile three. The mile with the giant hill that goes all the way from one major intersection to the next major intersection about 3/4 of a mile up the street.  It turns out the wind was coming from the South.  I was running North.  That's when it hit me that the trifecta of hills, humidity, and wind wasn't a good combination.  My mind was filled with that Meatloaf song:  "Two out of Three Ain't Bad".  Wind and humidity, okay. Hills and humidity, okay.  Wind and hills and humidity, not okay.  I started to walk, knowing that once I started that nonsense it would be virtually impossible to start running again.  At the same time, I had faith that it would just take a bit of walking to the next light pole to freshen my resolve.  I had a cramp in my side, I was thirsty, and I was sweating up a storm. All too quickly, the next light pole approached.  I bargained with myself.  Maybe I'd just walk to the one after that, and then I'd feel better and finish strong.

I was walking up the hill, up and up.  The farther I got, the less my legs wanted to run again.  I finally made it to the top, and breathed a sigh of relief.  There was a friendly downhill slope I knew I could tackle.  And I did, with vigor.  But at the bottom of every hill is another uphill, and so it was that I couldn't make it up that one either. 

I ended up walking the majority of the second part of my route, and cutting my total short by about 1.5 miles.  I had failed in attaining that day's goal.  Even though I had gotten through part of it, it worried me that my 10k in early June is known for its hills, and I only have about 2 weeks to prepare. The weather at this time of year is extremely unpredictable, and I have no way of knowing how that race will play out. 

I do know one thing, though.  Hot and humid days are just beginning.  There will be many more like them, and my body will eventually learn to adapt to the changing seasons.  The good news is that by making it through a brutally hot morning run I have a great reason to spend the afternoon lounging by the pool.