Today was supposed to be comprised of beautiful Savoir-Faire outfit photos, but for the umpteenth time since I got the camera, the dadgum memory card won't transfer the pics to le computer. Stephen returns from NYC tonight though, so I'll be putting his magic fix-it skills to work. Here's hoping you'll click over here tomorrow and, instead of finding a rant about sweaty running shoes, will find a presh outfit pic or five.
We can hope, right?
So instead of SF, I'm talking about something about as anti-glamorous as I care to dish up on this blog - exercise and my love/hate relationship with it.
I'll give you a moment to absorb the excitement that I'm sure you're feeling about this topic.
For some reason, I feel it's my duty to eat everything from here to kingdom come during the summer. Seriously, I'm like a stinkin' bear preparing for winter hibernation. So to offset the eleventy thousand calories per day I've been consuming, I decided to start running regularly again.
In late July.
Because it's only 106 degrees outside.
Well last night's jog (or "yawg" if you're fancy and foreign) darn near killed me, so I had the bright idea to get up at 6:00 a.m. this morning and huff it down the street in my Asics.
In the scheme of good ideas, this ranks second-to-last, only less terrible than partaking in the poncho trend six years ago.
I assumed it would be comfy cool, but HEAVENS TO BRENDA. It was awful.
You see, first thing in the morning, here in the South, there's this exquisite humidity that seems to settle over everything. It wraps you up like a wet blanket and it actually makes the most minor of activities, (like stopping to re-tie one's shoe mid-run), quite brutal.
It makes you itchy and tired and immediately resentful of living in such a warm climate while others can complain about their piddly 80 degree "heat".
(I'm not bitter at all, you see.)
|I enjoyed my A.M. run as much as Ari enjoys his baths.|
And, oh yes! Random stray cats. Apparently they're quite the morning joggers, too. And we all know how I feel about felines. If not, read here.
(If I were in Noah's place, I'd probably have left them off the Ark. Just sayin'.)
They ran alongside me, which actually caused me to quicken my pace.
By the time I returned back to our house, I was soaked with sweat, irritable from the humidity and cursing myself for not enjoying an extra half-hour of sleep prior to going to work.
In summary: Jogging outdoors in Arkansas in July is impossible no matter how you spin it.
I'll just do some jumping jacks in front of our A/C vent until about mid-September.
Peace, love and humidity, y'all.
Be blessed, lovelies-