I’ve got a confession: I don’t really love summer. Or more specifically, I don’t love summer where I live. It’s hot, ridiculously humid, and it’s one long mosquito fiesta from May (sometimes April) through October (sometimes November).
As a runner, I’m an odd bird because I’d much prefer to run in 20 degree weather than in 80s and higher – and trust me, there are a lot more days here that are above 80 than below 20. I know some runners who won’t even run outside in the winter but relish a warm July day to head out into the sun. Not me. There are only so many clothes a person can take off and still run outside.
I’m actually not running these days anyway. I’ve been sidelined with an injury for the last four weeks, and I’m looking at possibly two more weeks without running. If any of you are or know runners who have been sidelined, then you’ll know that climbing-the-walls feeling I’m fighting every day. And feel free to send my husband sympathy cards for having to deal with my general grumpiness at being among the walking wounded. He definitely deserves them. Just don’t send the kind with glitter – he’s not a fan. Continue reading